One week in Hell

I’ll jump in right here. And hope you brought your floatation devices, we’ll be in here for a bit.

Whew, been a long week. So I think last time we spoke we just arrived home from the hospital. Well, a few days passed, maybe a week. It was Friday, it had been a pretty good week. So looking forward to the weekend right? In the words of one Lee Corso, not so fast my friend. Elizabeth went to bed with a fever, that progressed to terrible chills. She also had stomach pains which caused her to go to the bathroom. After checking on her I helped her stand up, she went down. After a few minutes I helped her up again, she fell again. Thankfully I was able to grab her. She was completely out of it. Hannah (god bless her) actually made the call (literally and figuratively) to emergency to get an ambulance. Haley went out to make sure they found the house. Once they arrived they wheeled her out and off to the mayo ER. I’ll tell you this, that moment right there took a lot out of me. I know it was tough on Ham and Cheese. About a month ago a customer and I were discussing our situation. He told me you will be surprised at the strength and resolve your kids show. He couldn’t have been more right. To step into action when everything was going to hell then watch as their mom is wheeled off, man that was tough but I couldn’t be more proud of them and thankful they are who they are.

Anyway we got into the ER and admitted around 6 in the morning. Between doctors coming in and getting things handled everywhere else, after 40 hours of being awake (with a two hour “nap’ mixed in. And when I say nap, sleep was hard to come by) the torture rack of a fold out bed felt like a sack of feathers held up by angels. It was magnificent. However the law of diminishing effects would take over and each subsequent night was less and less awesome. The doctors however were stumped. Was it just effects of the new chemo or were other forces at work here. So finally after four days of tests and blood work, we finally got a diagnosis. I got back to the room and Elizabeth pointed at the board and said, this is what I have. Peptostreptococcus.

I’ll repeat that because you probably have the same reaction as I did, Peptostreptococcus.

I laughed because it sounded made up. It apparently is a pretty rare thing to get. Of course it is, why wouldn’t it just follow the M.O. of this whole ordeal. It’s so rare the doctors at this Mayo didn’t know what to do with it so they had to send the samples to Rochester. Awesome. The whole while our heroine kept getting fevers and chills due to the white blood cells rebuilding due to the chemo and fighting it off. After talking to infectious diseases they suggested she take Flagyl for her antibiotic. You may say to yourself, why does that sound familiar. It’s because thats the medicine that sent her to the ER last time looking and feeling like someone going through heroin withdrawal. So naturally we said, no. What else you got. Well there was a pump they could give us and it would be a little bit of work. Whatever it takes, thats fine, we’ll figure it out. So now armed with a diagnosis and treatment we just were waiting for the fevers to subside then we could go home after a solid week at the temple of doom.

Oh, also quick story, on about day five she felt gross from laying in the bed and all so she wanted to take a shower. Now we weren’t expecting resort style accommodations, but damn, at least the shower could work right? Well again, not so fast my friend. The water either was on full blast, skin melting hot, or off. Nothing in between. So I had to fill up a bucket halfway with cold water, grab this nozzle shooting out boiling water, fill it the rest of the way, then pour it over my bride like back in the days of yore before there was indoor plumbing. The nozzle kept flying around so every now and again you’d get blasted by something close to the temperature of molten lava. After the “shower” I told the front desk that somebody should be receiving a strongly worded letter and they may want to send in housekeeping because the bathroom looks like San Marco in Jacksonville after a good rain, flooded and a mess.

So while we were waiting to be released I decided a colonoscopy would be a fine idea (I had it scheduled in advanced). I was actually looking forward to it as that anesthesia is really great stuff and I really could use a good nap. So I do the prep (no problem) and head in the next day to get the pipes cleaned out. They wheel me back, I lay on my side and they shoot me with the goods. I go out like a light.

Fast forward to recovery where I wake up feeling almost hungover. My throat was on fire and I could barely talk. What the hell happened here. The perky blond nurse (whom I’m assuming they bring in because, who is gonna yell at a perky blond) said “oh good, you’re awake. Well we had to cut your procedure a little short. You threw up” OK, and? “Yeah he found a couple of polyps, they’re small and he’ll remove them when you come back to complete the procedure. Oh yeah, you stopped breathing for a bit, so we stopped the procedure”

Uh, good call?

It was weird and Hannah felt the same way, it was like talking to kids who had a party at their parents house and downplayed the size, the cops getting called, the mess that was made, you know. You will only get the information in bits and pieces. I was coming out of an hour and a half surgery that usually takes twenty minutes. So I was in no condition to ask. And my throat was still on fire. After discussing it with a friend we are guessing they jammed a tube down my throat. My jaw on both sides felt like I took a shot from Mike Tyson. Also guessing that I have sleep apnea that caused this. I have had an appointment with a sleep study clinic that has been blown off due to other things but something I really need to get done now I suppose. But not breathing, damn. They sent me home with some antibiotics to ward off pneumonia so it will all work out but still, not breathing huh? Wow.

So we’re all back home. Elizabeth is hurting a little bit and still trying to recover from her hospital visits. They say it takes a week to recover for every day you’re in there. So by my math she should be fine around March. The doctor came in and said she could push back the chemo a few days, so thats nice. Because while the doctors and nurses are fine people, we really don’t like the joint and would rather not be there. But we gotta go so we will suck it up and roll with it. Anyway, I’m gonna go. Keep us in your thoughts, say a prayer, whatever you do. Love you guys and blog at you later. MUAHHHH!!!!

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2 thoughts on “One week in Hell

  1. Oh, Bob. My heart breaks for all but also recognizes a strong, loving family. So blessed. We are here for the asking….even to sit quietly in the house. Much love!

    Liked by 1 person

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