Another Hospitalization for 2015

I haven't written this month, like I promised I would--and I'm sorry about that.

Honestly this month, it's been one thing after another.

Remember how I told you that I would have these days where I'd stand or walk and then I'd see all black?

Well that's what started happening again Halloween weekend. I honestly wore myself out from Halloween--and the stress of getting the kids' costumes ready--so much so, that the next day I was too sore and weak to get out of bed.

All of these fatigue and vision problems fell right before this random Monday where I had to watch the kids alone. Perfect timing, right?

 I was really scared to keep the boys all alone all day with how I felt.

That day, I'd stand up to get something for the kids and I would black out and desperately reach out for the nearest sturdy object so I wouldn't pass out or fall.

Besides the vision issues, I couldn't walk a straight line to save my life. My balance was completely off that when I would try to walk one direction, my body would go in another.

Now these things have happened off and on for a while. But this particular symptom--didn't happen until Monday, Nov. 2--the day I was alone with kids. I starting hearing my heartbeat in my ears.

I spoke to the doctor's office and they said come in immediately, or if it kept happening I'd need to call 911. The problem was I had the kids.

Klay was nearly two hours away working. And all my immediate caregivers happened to be tied up (vacations, picking up kids from school, etc).

Klay made it home about 4 p.m. and we needed to get to the hospital and fast. We arrived at my doctor's office who were waiting for me, because my doctor wanted to check on me personally.

They thought I was having some vertigo issues (where you sit and your BP is fine and then you stand and it drops) making the room spin or get dizzy, which I did have some of.

I'd already had CT scan of both my brain and sinuses the week prior, but they definitely wanted me to stay to do some more testing.

So I was in the hospital the first week of November, and the MRI revealed that my sinuses were terribly blocked and full.

Apparently there was a lot of gunk stuck up there that needed to be sucked out. And if you're grossed out by that sentence, at least you didn't have to have the sinus surgery to remove it. Yes, I said sinus surgery.

I was in pretty bad pain after the surgery. I was hurting so bad and they couldn't keep me comfortable. I had a bitch  rude recovery nurse, who would just ignore me when I spoke or tried to ask questions. I was in recovery for nearly two hours, and I was not happy about it.

Then, they moved my bed out by the nurses' station and I was trying to wave or get my nurse's attention--who was apparently done with me--and then a nurse saw I was about to yak and she handed me a nice blue barf bag. I'd swallowed a lot of blood because of the type of surgery, so you can imagine what was in the bag. Scariest thing ever. Am I dying over here? Scary movie-type shit. 

With me every moment...

Laughable Hospital Moments

That Familiar Place...

When I was first admitted, I was wheeled up to the floor I was going to live, I mean stay in, for however long. It was an oncology floor, of course, so I expected to know a lot of the nurses.

All of the nurses were waving to me as I get wheeled to my room seemingly happy to see me. I waved back as I'm pushed in the wheelchair to my room like a pageant girl in a parade--unknowingly of where I was going. I was focusing on the attention clearly.

Then I hear the nurses holler "aww, you get your old room back!" Yes, the one I stayed in for more than a month.

OMG, I never wanted to see that room again. I'd done my time in that prison. But that's just my luck.

Noticing Things I Should Have Noticed Before

After having stayed in the room for 30+ days in April and staring at the walls of the room for hours on-end, you'd think I would have noticed "it" before. The portrait was there, I remembered starting at it; this I know.

I bet I looked that painting more than a million times, yet I never seemed to notice the penis rock on the left-side of it.

Yeah it's that big rock that looks like a penis. I'm determined the artist did that purposefully or maybe this place really exists. If so, I'm visiting!

I self-titled this portrait, "This Penis Rocks."

My revelation was a hit with the nurses.

When I Thought I Saw...

I was wheeled down to get a MRI, when I see the MRI Tech guy. I'm asking myself 'who does this guy look like?' He was adorable. I finally realized he looked exactly like Morgan (Lenny James) from "The Walking Dead."

I arrived back at my room and squealed to Klay with excitement "guess who I just saw?"

He replied, "Who?"

"Lenny James!" I hollered.

"WHO?" Klay said to me with an I've-never-heard-that-name-in-my-life look.

"Morgan!"

He stared at me.

"Morgan from 'The Walking Dead'. You know that show we watch every Sunday and yesterday's episode was all about him?"

"Ohhhh. That's cool. He's here?"

"No it was a guy that looked exactly like him though."

END SCENE

I guess it's the littlest things that excite you in a hospital.

==

I spent a total of five days in the hospital, but my readers weren't far from my mind.

Y'all, I have eight posts written and saved in my drafts folder that aren't finished yet or need some major editing.

It doesn't help that I need glasses and I'm on drugs--pharmaceutical ones--so literally I've fallen asleep typing--totally face to key board.

I'm trying to get posts out as often as I can without looking like a complete fool, which means I won't publish it unless I think someone else may want to read it.

Since my brain is so clogged up, please feel free to message me or comment and let me know I missed a word, wrote it twice, etc. I need you little editors to help me out there! #writerswithcancerstruggles

Let's just pray that I get through these holiday months with no more hospital stays!

2+ Weeks Hospitalized + Wishing For Better Days

There were so many times I've wanted to write and tell everyone what's been going on. I just haven't had it in me to sit and write.

Technically that's a lie; I've had some time, especially since I was hospitalized on the 9th--and it's now the 24th of September and I'm still here. Ugh.

I guess I just didn't have the energy to "go there" with my feelings and let it all out because I knew it would break me. Plus, pneumonia and computers don't really mix well. Apparently that's what I have, some kind of pneumonia. For a while no one could quite figure out what was happening--my oxygen levels were dropping into the low 70s and 80s and nurses freak with anything below 90. I couldn't get all the sinus shit out of my head.  

So I was wearing oxygen all the time, and all of my countless nurses kept telling me they were all worried and trying to figure out different meds to see if I would get any better. I was there for more than five days and nothing had really improved. My oxygen levels were worse. I couldn't breathe long enough on my own to go the bathroom, so yes, I had to use a bed-side commode like an ole lady. But I was OK with that. Didn't want to have local headlines

reading "Walking to the hospital bathroom in patient's room kills 27 year old all because she had to take a shit."

So I opted bed-side was the best. I was hooked up to too many wires and what not anyway, it would take me 10 minutes to finally get to the bathroom and by that time my oxygen sats were going down.
And then I'd have a coughing fit. 

From what I'm told about the pneumonia I had really put me in pretty rough shape, though mentally I didn't feel that way... I just kept thinking I'd be here for a few days. "Just a few days," they'd say and I'd believe them.

But after many days, lots of antibiotics and fluids running through me, doing breathing treatments (or scary smokey eyes), I wasn't improving much.

Obviously I'm still here that's why it's 12:32 am and I'm telling this white screen how I feel. Over the past few days, I started to feel better and today was the day, I knew it was a stretch but it was my first real shot to go home. It's been two weeks since I've seen my babies a few times on FaceTime. It's been too long since I've witnessed Brody's little giggle when Daddy tickles him, I've missed seeing Bex's first tooth make its grand debut, I've missed waking up and cuddling Bex back to sleep, I missed my snuggles from Brody and all of the funny things that he said since I've been in the hospital.

Over the past year I've missed too much. Bex is halfway crawling across the floor (and making pretty good time, I might add), and I am missing it. I'm here away from them, sitting, doing nothing, not being anyone to my babies. I hate it so much.

I just lost my shit earlier. Like patient cw can't get it together.  

I couldn't deal. Klay left to go take care of the boys, Mom had scheduled a concert months in advance with her friends, so it's just me up at the hospital alone. I thought I could deal. I thought I could handle it. But I went looking through photos of Bex and Bro and I lost it. I want to be home with them. I can't do this crap any more. It's time for me to go home.

My nurses then came in to deliver some even more devastating news--I probably won't leave tomorrow either. 

But, screw that,  I'm going to give it my best shot. I can't do it any more with out seeing my kids. I just can't. I just want to be home.

So many times I wake and think this is a bad dream, but I open my eyes and see hospital walls, feel my head of hair that's growing back, sit up and look at all of the machines attached to me. It's all real. All of it.

I can't shake it.

Apparently people on the floor were really worried about me and I found out why. The whole first week to me was a blur. I had a procedure done, but I don't remember it. They said I slept all of the time. Meanwhile, a man in the room next to me was experiencing the same symptoms I had. He was older than me, much older, but he died this week.

How many times have I heard of people with cancer dying of some sort of infections? One too many and too many times too close to my rooms. I don't know how these nurses and doctors do it. One day a file is there with new updates from the patient, the next there is nothing to report. And that breaks my heart.

Someone I've known since, gosh, since I can remember, passed away this week after a long fight with breast cancer and many other health issues. I'm not going to pretend like I know exactly what they were, because I don't. What I do know is that Amy was a sweet, fun girl who I knew but never really hung out with, except when her brother and my sister dated in like third grade.

And when I hear of her death, I can't help feel guilty. I feel guilty she didn't get to experience some things that I did like--motherhood.

She had a long battle, but all I heard was how strong she was through it all. Everyone said she just kept moving forward like it was part of life, like it was her job to keep going to keep fighting. It was just like an obstacle to overcome. Even though she may not of made it to the end of our lives, we got to watch the end of hers--and from everyone I've spoken to she lived life having fun doing and trying new things.

I hope I can harvest some of that power and strength and use it in times of need, like now. I'm just not finding that strength, Amy, and I hope that you can help us from up there. I need some of your strength and attitude and it seems so selfish of me to ask for it. We haven't talked in years.

It all seems so unfair how someone just a few more years older than me is already gone. How is that fair? Why does one beautiful soul leave us and I'm still here? I don't understand. And for her family who have been through so so so much, I just wish I could take an ounce of pain away from you and this struggle. It seems so unfair that I'm here and she's not.

And I feel guilty because of it.

My eyes are swollen, red and causing all kinds of blurriness as my tear drops stream down onto my arms and roll to the keyboard. I lay in this hospital bed in tears thinking about Amy, the man next door, the people who passed when I was in the hospital for transplant, people who passed away before I could meet them and I feel guilty. To my great aunt Ann, who was a beautiful soul, and showed that through her love for her family, I miss her. This life is not fair. Why am I here? Does my family all get to make it to the end of this life in one piece?

It's terrible I ask such questions when these past two months, because I've experienced some of the purist happiness I've ever experienced. I totally rocked my bald head down an aisle at my best friend's wedding and felt beautiful all the way down the aisle. I spent the whole night dancing with Brody all night because he kept asking me to dance and telling me how pretty I was. I wrapped up the last song for me and my love to take a moment alone together. We just swayed back and forth, back and forth and he didn't let go even after the music stopped. We kissed. And just from his kisses and touch l'm overpowered by it. I can see it in his eyes and I know this man truly loves me with every fiber of his being. I smile and I'm genuinely in the moment, no worries, no fears, and he sees it too "she's happy," he thinks. And his eyes light up, his smile breaks free and he's kisses me once more.

And that was an amazing night, one for the books.

And now I'm back in this negative hole and I can't come up for air. I'm reaching and grasping to hold on to that feeling to the happiness but something comes up that pulls me away from what makes me happy--my family.

This hospital is long and unexpected, I just want to be the caretaker of my family again. And what if I get sick again and wind up in the hospital for the holiday season? I missed out on all of it last year. I can't do that again. It will be Bex's first Christmas home with us. He was stuck at the hospital last year.

Tonight has been rough. My nerves are shot, I'm just a mess. I talked to the boys earlier on FaceTime and they were happy to see me. Brody heard me talking to Klay and I was crying.

Brody said, "Don't cry Mama. You have to get better so you can come home. I'm coming up there to see you. But you have to get better so you can come home and snuggle."

Well that only made my waterworks pump out faster. And then my eyes act like they have tsunamis coming out of them, just wave after wave, they come and they come and nothing stops it.

The Next Day...

After finally falling asleep at 5 am, my nurses rush in to tell me at 8 am that I'm going home! So I should pack. I was so excited my my nerves were shot from being so upset the night before my eyes, were swollen, my face still red, and I needed to put myself back together.

I called Klay and gave him the news and headed up to the hospital to be there for my latest escape from Med City.

I got my med and med list and headed home. We stopped my Michael's Craft store on the way because I saw some cute little crafts for us and the kids to do. But as soon as we pulled up, I opened the door and puked. Good times.

Klay asked if I still wanted to go in and I said yes. So we got some crafts, and then headed to mom's house to get the boys.They were happy to see me. Bex weighed so much more it seemed.

We left and stared building this foam pirate ship with halloween characters on it. Brody really loves it. Daddy did most of the work of course and I did what I could. It ended turning out great.

I don't remember if it was the first night, but every day since we got home, I've puked every morning and stayed very nauseated, sometimes making more than one appearance to the commode or trash a day. And then I had a migraine Saturday and Sunday that were plain awful. I was out of my migraine med so I had to call my DR to get a prescription. I was in bed all day, getting sick, ice packs all over my face. It was terrible. Last night was the first night I slept and had a slight headache and I didn't get sick either. No toilet visits for me, at least not for on end.

Apparently I was supposed to go home on steroids and they didn't give me any or put it on my med list. And, we had been tapering me off of Program (the anti-rejection medication) for a month or so... I was on .5 mg a day. They bumped me up in the hospital to 6 mg a day. Prograf is prone to give you headaches and especially bad headaches for people who already get headaches quite a lot. So pretty much Prograf and I were going to be off to a rocky start no matter what.

So they think that's why I've been so sick. I was on such a heavy dose of steroids and then I didn't have any over the weekend and also because my high prograf level.

EFF this SHIT.

Now it's Wednesday, Sept. 30 and I'm feeling OK. Mostly tired and hungry cause I haven't eaten for the past week. I'm down to 145 lbs with clothes on. I haven't been this tiny since high school. Now I'm gonna need a new wardrobe. I've lost like 40lbs since the cancer stuff and like 55 lbs since the pregnancy. I look awful, plus I have a lesbians' hairstyle now. Not that have anything against lesbians' and super short hair, but I really never thought I would have the look myself. Maybe it's time for a trim. I don't know. Lez be honest here, I do love having short hair and not having to dry it and fix it. That takes way too much time out of my day. Maybe I just need a new wardrobe. Nothing fits any more.

I'll try not to be so damn depressing in the next post, and I'll try to post more often.

See what I mean about the hair? I kinda like it though. No worries, no cares, screw you if you think I'm lesbian. That just means Klay might have some competition if I decide keep this look... #lesbiansbeware #cancercassisonthemove #stupidstereotypes

Ready to feel better,