The Rest of the Story

hospital staff member clothed in protective cl...

Image via Wikipedia

     I got to the hospital in Indy at around  7am.  I managed to get there just in time for shift change, so by the time a doctor made rounds and got me on some pain meds it was around noon.  Mental note:  Never get to a hospital during shift change.  I was not a happy camper at that point and I’m sure I made my feelings known.  The hospital I started out in did blood cultures before I left.

     The next morning when Dr. Whomever came in he said I needed to be transferred to ICU immediately as in yesterday.  Ironically the first thing they did to prep me for ICU was put in a foley per their protocol.  It seems I had a life threatening infection in my bloodstream, go figure.  I had a yeast infection in my bloodstream called fungemia.  How fun!  If it’s rare or unusual apparently I’m going to get it.  I didn’t understand how serious it was at that moment.  I’m a girl and a diabetic therefore no stranger to yeast infections.  All I’m thinking is give me some diflucan and I’ll be on my way home.  It was after all, the week before Thanksgiving where I was planning to cook an elegant dinner for my family and friends.

     I hate being in a hospital so far from home.  It’s hard for my family to visit and I get lonely.  Once I got into a regular room my best friend decided to come see me and stay for the duration, very cool because she brought my laptop.  Most hospitals now have internet access for patients.  I was getting very frustrated and told the doctors I wanted to go home on Sunday and on Sunday I was prepared to leave AMA (against medical advice)  Something happened that never happened before.  Not one but two Infectious Disease doctors sat on my girlfriends roll away bed and very bluntly told me that if I left I would probably die.  I was in tears at that point I wanted to go home so badly.  Instead I told them I needed to talk to my husband before I made any decision, totally ruining my plan to not mention the AMA part and just tell him I was discharged.  It was a bad plan anyway, I can never get away with lying to him.  He always knows.

     The dear man told me he would rather miss having me home for one holiday and have me alive for all the other ones and to please stay in the hospital, also I forgot to mention the doctors had me scheduled for surgery in the morning.  I had to have my port removed as they believed that was the source of the infection.  I’ve had my port for 2 and half years and I loved it.  My veins are so scarred from IV’s that it’s very difficult to get vein access and it saved me from countless central lines.  In fact it took the anesthesiologist 4 sticks to get a vein to remove the port.  I also decided since I have my laptop to google this new oddly named infection.  Turns out that it has a 40 to 70% mortality rate.  Okay then, you convinced me to stay.   Now I don’t know whether to get it replaced or not.  It would be great to think maybe I don’t need another one I just don’t know how realistic that is.  On the other hand this one almost killed me.  I’m open to suggestions.

     The end of the story is that I did get home 2 days before Thanksgiving and I owe a big thank you to my sister who with the kids did all the cooking and cleaning for day and I didn’t have to lift a finger, so I still consider myself a pretty lucky girl.  I did land myself back in ICU one time since then, but that’s for another post, another story.  Thanks for listening to me I know this was a long one.  Since I started blogging this is the best way for me to vent.


Sick to my Stomach

     Pancreatitis, it would become a word I got very used to hearing.  My type 1 diabetes put me at risk for it and oh boy did I get it.  Of course there were still doctors and nurses that assured me it was my alcoholism, that I had to convince otherwise.  Now I don’t drink at all, but before pancreatitis it was still a rare event.  That’s really when I first started encountering cycnicism from some on the medical team.

     It’s really impotant to me that I be listened to and not assumed I’m a liar.  I could never figure out how they planned on helping me when on a very basic level I wasn’t believed.

     I was vomiting constantly, losing more and more weight, and my veins were so bad that evertime I would go into the hospital, no matter the reason I would have to get a central line.  My ct scans would show a psuedocyst on my pancreas, and I had a gallbladder scan.  So now my gallbladder needed to come out.  I did feel better for a short time after that, but sure enough about 6 weeks later I was back in the hospital with pancreatits.  I also had an endoscopy done and had a port a cath put in.  All of this without insurance.  Everytime I got pancreatitis my blood sugars would go out of control.  The same thing would happen when I got a mrsa infection.  My sugars would spin so out of control I would end up in ICU with DKA.  I would struggle so hard with testing and insulin and it felt like to no avail.  It was a very frustrating time for me.

     My pain was increasing, neuropathy was setting in.  My stomach never not hurts, and soon enough I was about to experience some of my worst pain ever.