Epic Memorial Day Weekend

But not in a good way, unfortunately!  I could also title this "The Curse of the Daycare Germs Continues".

Here are the nitty, gritty, DIRTY details (saddle up, this one's gonna be a doozy):

Thursday morning when I woke up to pump I felt... funny.  I hooked myself up and got everything going, and then about halfway through had to stop to RUN to the bathroom.  Thought maybe I had a stomach bug, so decided to skip my morning workout and nap for a bit longer before work.

When Preston's alarm went off, I felt really funny.  Kind of dizzy, fuzzy headed, and definitely like I was going to puke.  Which I did.  And as is common, I almost immediately felt better.  I called in to work (I have a cancer patient who works in my department who I wouldn't want to expose to anything) and told them I'd work some from home.

Very soon after that I started feeling bad.  Then I puked again.  And again.  And went to the bathroom.  And puked.  And bathroomed.  You get the idea.  It was bad.  Really, really bad.

I tried to sleep it off.  No dice.  I tried a sip of Gatorade.  No dice.  I tried EVERYTHING.  When the doctor opened I called and she called in a Phinergan (anti-nausea) prescription in for me.  Preston went to fill it while I puked my guts out.  He got back, I swallowed the pill, puked 5 minutes later, and twice more in the hour.  I called the doc back and they told me to go to the ER.

So I went to the ER, got all my paperwork filled out and got triaged, and then helped myself to a bench to sleep on until they called me.  Preston said it was only about an hour.  They called me back (I dry heaved all the way from the bench to my spot) and put me into a curtain bay with one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs that reclines.  I went back to sleep.  Eventually the doc came to see me and they started IV saline to rehydrate me and gave me Zofran for the nausea.  Zofran works, y'all.  Very soon after that I was sure I could hold liquids and I started asking for Gatorade.  Which of course took forever because the doc had to order it.  But eventually it came and I held it down.  So they decided to load me up with one more liter of saline and send me home to sort out my bathroom problems on my own.  (I should note here that while we were in the ER we called my mom to come down and help with Z.  Daycare called and said she had diahrrea and we needed to get her.  And Preston threw up also.)

In the ER. It was freezing!

And I thought the worst was over.

I continued having bathroom issues all night and the next morning, but I continued to hold my Gatorade down.  I didn't feel like I could eat anything solid, so I just kept pounding the Gatorade.  At some point mid-morning I took a nap, and when I woke up I felt AWFUL.  I was shivering violently.  I had to actually call for help and mom and Preston bundled me up, but I kept shivering for a long time.  I drifted in and out of sleep.  When I woke up again, I had stopped shivering, but I felt even worse.  I took my temperature and it was 104.4!  104.4!!!  I called the doc and asked if I needed to go to the ER again.  They said yes, take Tylenol and head over.

Once again I got there, got my paperwork filled out, got triaged, and found a bench for my waiting nap(s).  I was obviously even sicker than the day before, so I assumed the wait wouldn't be that bad.  Boy was I wrong!  I eventually saw a doctor in a little cubby in the waiting room.  He ordered a ton of tests (x-rays, blood, urine, stool), and they actually started my IV to rehydrate me IN the waiting room.  They wouldn't give me a blanket because of my fever, but they had also given me motrin, so I shivered and groaned my way through a massive fever-break in the waiting room.  Awesome.  Those other people must have throught I had the plague, because you have to also picture that I was running to the bathroom every 10-15 minutes whenever I was awake.  After I had been there about 6 hours, the x-ray tech that took me back for my abdominal x-ray told me that there were over 20 people waiting, they were closed to trauma because they were so full but ambulances came anyways, and I was probably looking at at least a few more hours.  I thanked him for his honesty.  About 7 hours into the thing I decided I had to pump.  I asked the triage nurse where I could go, and he told me the bathroom.  The single bathroom with a locking door that was serving the 50 sick people in the waiting room.  I told him I'd tie it up for probably 30 minutes and he just shrugged (asshole).  So I took my pump and went in there and was trying to figure out how to make it work (remember that I can barely stand.  And there is no lid on the toilet to sit on.) and the bathroom was just so dirty and filthy and I just broke.  I started crying and came back out and there was a nurse calling my name for another test.  When that was over I told Preston I was going to the car to pump.  So I went out, IV port (bag was already in me) and all, and got set up in the car.  Right as I started the suction, Preston knocks on the window and tells me they've called me and they're admitting me.  UGH! 

So I disconnect and go back in and Nurse Twitchy takes me back into what looks like an office where they've parked a hospital bed.  I ask him what's wrong with me and he says he doesn't know, he thinks I'm the patient with gallstones, but I'm being admitted.  I'll just be held here until a room is ready.  And they're going to start antibiotics through my IV.  He tosses a gown on my legs and leaves.  Ok... odd.  So I go find a restroom and then come back and he's like, "Oh, you aren't ready, I'll come back."  And I tell him I'm not sure what I need to do to get ready?  And he tells me to put on the gown, and oh-by-the-way-you-don't-have-gallstones, you have diarrhea-presumed-infectious.  Nice.  Quality care, there.

Anyways, they finally get my IV started.  Then the ER doc and my PC doc's rep come by on rounds and tell me what they're doing to me, which is basically pumping me full of broad spectrum antibiotics to kill off anything and everything bacterial that ever thought of living inside of me, in hopes that a bacteria was causing my distress and not a virus.  Brilliant.  Then I got a new nurse, who we'll call Nurse Tattoo.  I tell him that I'm gonna pump, and I finally get that process started.  He manages to forget and walk in and freak out a few times (not that I care - the guy is supposed to be a trained healthcare professional, and I'm performing a necessarily bodily function).  The holding of the pump up causes my IV to get ticked off and beep very loudly and obnoxiously.  I call for someone multiple times.  30 minutes later, the thing is still beeping, and I have to go to the bathroom again.  Remember that I'm still in someone's office, or something.  So I go down the hall with my beeping machine and the bathroom is in use.  So I stop outside and just close my eyes and try to rest while I stand there and wait.  With my beeping machine.  Right by the nurses' station.  Where there are 3 nurses talking to each other.  Eventually, apparently, my beeping became so annoying TO THEM that one came over and made it stop.  Then the bathroom opened up, and by the time I got back to my "room", Nurse Tattoo was there to take me to my real room.

Which was quite nice, actually.  It was a single with a nice big bench thing for Preston to sleep on.  We got settled in around midnight and crashed for the rest of the night.

The next morning when they hung my second bag of Cipro, I started having an allergic reaction to... something.  So that was fun.  Add Benadryl to my list of awesome drugs.  And the doc switched me from Cipro to Bactrim.

My "spots".

My diet was defined as "Clears", so a tray containing chicken broth, cranberry juice, apple juice, and NOT-red jello appeared for breakfast.

Orange.

For lunch I was given the culinary delight of beef broth, cranberry juice, apple juice, and NO, STILL NOT-red jello.

Green.

When my doc made his rounds I told him I thought maybe I could try something soft but solid, like mashed potatoes.  He said that if I could hold that down, they'd let me go.  Eventually a menu worked its way to my room, but I couldn't order "Room Service" because I had no phone.  My nurse ordered for me: biscuits, chicken noodle soup, mashed potatoes, apple sauce, jello (nope, still not red).  I ate a little of everything, so they let me go at 10pm, but not without one more bit of insanity: I'm all signed out, packed, and ready to go, so the nurse goes to call for a wheelchair.  I seriously think that that is the dumbest hospital policy ever - I'm well enough for you to let me go, but I'm not *allowed* to walk out under my own power?  What is that?  Anyways, I wait and wait and wait and Preston is waiting in the car outside with the baby because she isn't allowed inside.... for 45 minutes!!  I finally call and say, SERIOUSLY???  And someone comes and tells me that they can't FIND a wheelchair.  A HOSPITAL.  Can't FIND a WHEELCHAIR.  Ugh!!  So they let me walk out.

My Quarantine sign.

The rest of the weekend was rest and recovery and helping my sick baby, husband, and mom as much as I could.  The (Epic) End. :-)