My eyes feel like they're glued Literally, every time I blink, there's a good chance they'll stay shut. Maybe this is how celebs feel when they get "hospitalized" for exhaustion. Because if that were an option right now I might consider it just for a night...
Wednesday night I was having flank pain and blood in my catheters. That's normally a sure sign of infection.
I called my primary and he arranged an ultrasound; unfortunately the only place that was open was the ER- but it was fine; they were expecting me and I was in and out pretty quick.
The ultrasound tech checked for blockage and back up. I had neither. Just two, itty bitty stones (less than 4mm -again if you've passed a stone, less than 4mm doesn't feel too "itty bitty.") that were passing; thus the reason for pain and bleeding.
Was sent home Wednesday night with a foley bag (when I get stones, its easier to put a bag on and literally drink myself silly (with water of course lol!) and let the urine collect in a bag, versus me catheterizing myself every five minutes and funneling it through a sifter, etc. Just a huge pain. So I agreed on the bag, and left the ER determined to flush these stones out.
Thursday I woke up with my bag and spend the day drinking water, flushing my kidneys. But Thursday night I was feeling pretty bad. I think I emailed a few nursing friends, soliciting free advice, because that's how I do.
In the end, (early Friday morning) I was beyond sick. Like felt as though I could die. For real. I was one of those dorks that had to be wheeled into the ER by her husband- I couldn't even stand.
They gave me that magic dilauded, which knocked the pain out immediately. I fell asleep and woke up a couple of hours later, realizing I was in a huge trauma room- like the kinds you see on TV. And I had doctors and nurses surrounding me. Somewhere during my nap my blood pressure had dropped to 67/43 and my heart rate was in the high 100's. I had a temperature and was totally out of it. Which was probably a good thing; because had I been with it, I would have been scared out of my mind.
I had a doctor (not a nurse- but doctor) above me squeezing fluids into me and a nurse taking my vitals. I was like a blob. Couldn't even try and move. I suppose things stabilized (though my BP never got over 100) and the next thing I knew I was in the ICU. How. DID. THIS. HAPPEN?!?!
As they gave me more fluids, meds, etc. I became more "with" it and was able to remember what had happened. I mean, most of it. There were a lot of empty pieces but I knew I was really sick and I was on the ICU floor. I knew my vitals weren't good and that I was being admitted.
The first doctor I talked to thought I had some horrible disease; like TB or something. (pros and cons of having a private room- you're alone and its private, but that usually means you're pretty sick) For the first 24 hours I had over 7 antibiotics; apparently I was close to becoming septic; they couldn't' identify the exact bacteria or virus I had. So they were using wide spectrum antibiotics. This sucked for a million reasons. Each med gave me some new reaction; I itched, I puked, I felt heavy in my chest; it was AWFUL.
After 48 hours my culture finally grew something; enterococcus faecalis. A serious bacterium, linked to a whole host of scary problems, often associated with use of catheters.
Once they identified it, they put me on three antibiotics to kill the sucka. Yesterday I couldn't take the hospital for another second and braved the question, "Can I go home?" One doctor (infectious disease doc) said "NO." My other two doctors (my floor doc and my urologist) said "yes." So my dad and I ran with those "yesses" and some how I got myself out of there. I've questioned it a few times; did I leave too early? Should I have stayed to be monitored longer? My vitals had improved- totally normal- except for right before we left. My BP was 134/90 and my heart rate was 55. Like complete opposite of when I came in.
Anxiety is playing a good part in all of this; telling me "GO BACK! Run back to the doctors!" And then theres another part of me hat's saying "Stay with your kids. You need to be with your kids."
All in all its bee a trying 5 days. My grandma is here to help me today, and I appreciate her help SO much. But all I really want is Ryan.
We'll get through this; I'm determined. My love for the kids is so great- that I have a will to get 100% better and become that energetic, fun mom they so deserve.
Right now... I'm just tired. Anxious. Full of fear and thoughts.
PS- nursing friends feel free to PM me a message about why my BP and heart rate were so funky before I left!
I'm also a human slug. No really; like can barely get around. I am crazy tired. CRAZY TIRED. I'm assuming this is just from everything that's happened?
I miss my old doctor (Dr. Bigelow) so badly. I need someone o tell me "You are not going to quit breathing. You are not going to die from this. You just need to take your medicine ad rest."
what a few days, huh?
Seriously though; if you have any kind words of encouragement about me being "okay"- like "hey Ashley I dealt with this same thing last year and I am totally fine now! Took my meds and all is well!" I'd LOVE to hear it! :D
thanks for all the prayers and love!