Here’s hoping 2016 is your most fabulous year yet!
I know there are those who had a fabulous xmas season. Then, there are those who had an unmemorable vacation and others who drank it all away, or some other form of mind-altering substance had a hand in the festivities. To those, I say, “Glad you had **” being whatever form their celebration took.
Then, there are those who had one similar to the misfortune I experienced. Or worse.
No, no one close to me passed on (to my knowledge). I still have a place to stay, out of the temperamental weather. There is food to eat, and I can access a little money from either my brother or Ma if an emergency came up.
Here is the reason for my heading:
Some minor recent history:
My brother works in a lumber yard. He’s a Grader, so he isn’t actually in the yard. He works in a windowed room, checking the boards as they go by on a conveyor. Scan one side to check quality and damages, mark it, then flip it and check the other side. One after the other. There are several people, so he doesn’t have to check every board, unless one of the others isn’t doing what they’re supposed to.
He started having issues (again) in early December, but kept working. Needless to say, he gave something of it to Ma. She’s 78, and needs no real help getting under the weather.
So, I’m trying to take care of the house stuff, per usual, and trying to will myself to not come down with anything. At least not until one or both of them are over it.
Tom went to the clinic on his work insurance and got some prescriptions to help. We finally convinced Ma to go to another clinic, and they said she had an upper respiratory infection and gave her meds and a follow-up appointment for the 30th.
I accepted they were well enough, and succumbed to the variation that decided to victimize me. This is where the NOT fun began
December 23, 2015
I decided to take a short nap late morning. I figured if I had to be sick, I’d at least try to stay a bit rested so I could still do some of the stuff I need to do around here. I covered up so I could also start the process of sweating out the yuck I knew had been building up inside me. Toxins, you know?
I didn’t so much wake up, but rather my eyes popped open and I had to make my way fast to put my face in the toilet. When I felt the first lurch, a lower feeling told me my face is not what I wanted in the seat. I needed my seat there, and NOW. But I still had the upper lurching, so grabbed the trash can and all my insides let go.
I’ll leave it at that. Most people can fill in the next 18 hours.
On December 24, before sunrise, I rushed for the umpteenth time into the other room. When that session ended, I shakily stepped on the scale. I felt weak, I know diarrhea causes dehydration. I had tried nibbling on some crackers through the night, and had already started sipping some water.
Let me say now; I have never really liked water. No flavor, no taste. No sugar. (What can I say, huh?) Most especially, no carbonation. For me to have picked up a bottle of water without having to be forced says a lot as to how I felt.
The scale showed I dropped 10 pounds. I no longer have ten pounds to spare. I’m pretty sure I weighed in the week before, and it showed 145-ish. That morning, I had 133. One week, ten pounds. Time to go to the ER.
I despise Hospitals more than drinking water.
No one else sat in the waiting room. I checked in, speaking out of breath and trying to keep all spasms at bay. They said they would call me soon. Famous last words. Ma and I sat… well, she sat and I fidgeted and went in and out of the restroom several times, pulling the waste basket over just in case. I think the waiting time turned into about half an hour. Not long, if everything is hunky-dory. But things were anything but.
They finally took me back into a room, and I waited for the RN. I had taken my current prescriptions so they knew what to work around. I tried hard to keep my attention on words, trying to hold back on the actions that I described.
He left, and we waited some more. The Doc came in and began doing what Doctors excel at; triggering whatever pain you tell them you feel.
A little after he finished, another lady escorted me to x-ray. I guess they had to make sure to check for pneumonia. When I got back, still another RN waited to begin the needle part. We had a little dialogue about my history with 18 gauge needles- I had donated plasma many, many times in my history, so had the scars for her to aim for.
She started a saline drip before she left, and she also put some kind of liquid medication in the line, I think she said for either the belly problems or the lower ones, I’m not exactly sure. She had drawn 3 or 4 vials of my red stuff before opening the drain valve. (I made sure to tell her to leave enough for me.) That bag took about 20, 30 minutes. Thank goodness I didn’t get the urge then.
It took a little while for them to acknowledge the bag had emptied, and the Nurse said she had to find out what came next. She came back and plugged in another saline bag, but smaller. A bit. I guess a result of one of the tests showed I needed more than just the one bag.
They didn’t really tell me anything. Not about the reason for the second bag, not the results of the x-rays.Finally, the needle came out, paperwork handed over with new prescriptions, and we were on the way home.
I still felt weak, but the purging had stopped for the most part. I rested the rest of the day, and still felt somewhat horrible on the gift giving morning. I attended anyway, gave the appropriate thank you’s and you’re welcome’s, and when we completed, I went back to bed.
That afternoon, I did feel better, and even consumed some soup, which fortunately stayed where it needed to be. I had not eaten more than a dozen crackers in the previous 48 hours, and had begun drinking more water, no Pepsi (wah) and no coffee. Gladness filled my being that I actually got some sustenance.
The next day, I woke up and hurled again. I feared a relapse. I mean, I feared it. No way I wanted to experience any part of that again. No other symptoms appeared, and I didn’t have an upset stomach. No idea why I unswallowed.
Today, I feel almost back to… what passes for normal for me. My sinuses are still leaking no end, and a slight rattle in my chest makes me cough, but I can eat. I have decided not to return to drinking as much Pepsi and coffee, and I’m doing my best to stay hydrated with water. Who’d-a thunked it?
I know full well that things could have been a whole lot worse. I know that way too many people did have it worse, and still do. I’m not saying I had the worst experience, just that I can bring to mind no other time that would have made this not be the absolute worst Winter Holiday Season in my history.
I have been locked up during them, and would rather be again instead of that sickness. It could be kind of sad that one who does not wish to check into another “Graybar Hotel” would take that option over being a little under the weather.
So, if anyone is still reading- indeed if anyone even read a little of it- I am better now. Mostly. I intend to do my best to not live quite as toxic a lifestyle as I have been. Not a resolution, mind you, but a decision intended to keep me away from feeling this Holiday Season over again.
Have you ever felt anything so bad, you never want to experience it again? Did it happen anywhere near a festive, family-oriented holiday? Can you have just a little Sympathy for this devil?