I thought I had broken the chain. I got my port flushed and didn’t end up in the hospital within days. Instead it took a week. So aggravating. I managed to stay out of the hospital for 2 months, then bam I’m back in. I didn’t wait until I was so sick I was in ICU, and I only had to stay a day and a half. The Er doctor did have an ICU bed for me but my labs kept improving while I was in Emergency so I was booked for a 23 hour observation instead. I do think that was good news. It’s only 10 miles from my house to the hospital, but it seems like such a long drive when I’m vomiting every couple of minutes. I’m grateful that they get my port accessed and get phenergan on board within minutes of my arrival. The dilaudid doesn’t hurt either.
I go back and forth between gratitude that I’m so well taken care of and anger that this is what has become of my life. I really do try to put a positive spin on everything, but when my pancreatitis flares up I’m just completely consumed by the pain. It comes in waves and leaves me breathless and praying for the sweet relief of unconsciousness. It never comes. The only relief I get is what comes in a needle. It’s ridiculous, I have dilaudid and morphine at home, but it doesn’t even come close to relieving my pain when I have a flare-up. I throw up a couple of times and that’s all it takes for me to be in sever dehydration.
I guess I am lucky, the hospitalist does let me go home as soon as I start feeling better, I have a wonderful primary care doctor, and a wonderful pain management doctor that all support me in maximizing my level of functioning and minimizing my time in the hospital. So, when I go to bed in a few minutes I’m going to take the time to thank God that I have what I do, and know that I can always come here to write about it and feel better. Thanks for listening.