More Adventures in Medicine

Friday while I was driving Mal around, I was feeling a bit of stomach unease, and I could tell that a cold sore was trying to crop up. I take acyclovir daily to prevent cold sores, so when one sneaks by, it's a big deal. In the entire year I've taken acyclovir, I haven't had a cold sore make it that far yet. I took a couple of extra doses, then some Lysine, and put Abreva on a few times, and ended up stopping it before it got all the way to the point of no return. And Saturday, I felt mostly normal.

Sunday afternoon, I was starting to think that I wasn't going to escape cedar fever this year, after all. By 8:30, I was beat. I went to bed by 9:30, and James mostly distracted Mal until he was wound down and "ready for bed."

One cool thing that James has been trying to tell you as he's worked on his blog entry about his and Mal's trip to San Antonio -- AT THE BEGINNING OF NOVEMBER -- is that, since they returned, James has been Mal's go-to for the nighttime tooth-brushing routine. It's super sweet, and, of course, I love being out of that loop.

However, after Mal brushes his teeth, he often watches videos for a while before he goes to sleep for the night. Usually, that's okay. But Sunday night, I felt like garbage. Mal kept saying, "I'm going to watch one more video, then I'm going to go to bed." "Okay." After the third round of this, I said, "Mal, you can watch as many videos as you want; I'm trying to sleep so you don't have to tell me."

When he DID go to bed, he managed to plug his iPad in himself, but when he laid down, he was frustrated because I had pulled back both of his blankets and his sheet, and he prefers just the top blanket. He was fussing about it, and kicking the superfluous sheet and blanket down to the foot of the bed, which he often does, even when it's absolutely freezing outside (and super cold inside because we live in a 13-year-old house with crappy insulation and crappier windows).

After he did THAT, he was still fussing, "Next time, the top blanket only! I'm so uncomfortable!" I asked how he was uncomfortable. He said, "I don't know," kick, kick, kick, "I'm just UNCOMFORTABLE!" And I LOST. IT. I sat up and started pulling his other blankets into the floor with way more force than was necessary. I said, "I JUST WANTED TO GO TO SLEEP EARLY BECAUSE I AM SO TIRED!" Then I announced that I was going to pee and left the room.

I guess I "said" this louder than I maybe meant, but probably about as intensely as I felt, because James was in Mal's room when I got back from the bathroom. He'd come in to see if Mal was okay, and I have to tell you... it feels like crap when your baby daddy has to check up on his kid because he's afraid you might have upset or hurt him. This has happened a couple of times since Mal was born, mostly when he was a baby and I was chronically sleep-deprived and on the edge.

Then, also, D asked me the next day, "What happened last night?" So I had to tell her that I had a temper tantrum because I was so exhausted and kept being awakened. By then, I had apologized to both James and Mal. But still. Geez.

Monday, I got up and took a shower with some eucalyptus sinus soothers. After that, I felt like I just needed to spend the day in bed. James is in his last week on his current team at work, and I didn't think asking him to stay home was a great idea (it looks like "senioritis"), so I decided I could make it. Mal got up, and fortunately was an absolute gem.

First, when he woke up, he called to me. I said, "I'm right here." He said, "It's not really you." I asked, "If it's not me, then who am I?" He said, "You just lost control, and then you got sick." I asked James if they'd talked about this, and he said they had not. I told Mal, "Aww, you're so sweet to me." He said, "You're sweet to me, too... And I'm a party blower so I can do anything." Kind AND weird. That's my kid.

I spent most of Monday in the master bedroom, because they were jack-hammering rock to try to make room for the septic tank across the street. In all, it's taken them about two weeks to dig that hole. I'm over it.

As I mentioned, Mal was amazing. He played Number Blocks and with his Sonic characters. I think he was just happy to have me not up and running around, but lying there with him, listening and interacting as much as I could all day. Then he'd run off to watch videos or play a game. I made him some food and tried to sit at the table with him, but needed to get back into bed after a few minutes.

I kept using my albuterol inhaler. Like a lot. And it wasn't working for more than 15 minutes. I have a nebulizer and used that once, also to little avail. I decided to make use of Teladoc, and after an hour or so had a prescription for several things: Tamiflu, an antibiotic, a steroid, and an inhaler than I learned would have cost $600 if I didn't have insurance.

Having kicked around in a stupor most of the day, I tried to get it together to take D to banjo lessons and to pick up my medicine. I was obviously not operating at full capacity, and D said, "We can stay home if you need to." But D missed a lot of classes after surgery, and then during the holidays, so I wanted to make sure we kept the routine up. And I neeeeeded meds.

We successfully made that trip, and I got the kids food from Sonic. I told James he'd need to pick up something on the way home, because I knew I couldn't cook dinner. As it got later, a couple of hours after I'd taken the first doses of everything, I started feeling worse. The uber-expensive inhaler was not helping me breathe. My head was killing me. I was exhausted. I was worried that I'd not be able to breathe during the night, and one thing the Teladoc had told me was that the flu wasn't likely to kill me, but that if I was gasping for air, I needed to get to the E/R.

I texted James and told him that when he got home, I wanted him to take me to the hospital, but within half an hour, I was on the verge of a panic attack, so D agreed to hang out with Mal while they waited for James to come home, and then I drove -- in James's car, which was recently pulled over for having a headlight out, which is why James had driven my car to work -- to the hospital.

I'd checked in online, but they were busy. It was quiet, but they didn't have any rooms, so kept sending me back to the waiting room after triage and then an EKG. When I arrived, my pulse/ox was 95, which isn't optimal, but not bad enough that I was going to beat anyone else out for a room. My pulse was 132, and my blood pressure was like 134/72, which is WAY HIGH for me. My temperature was 99.7, and my norm is around 97.5.

I guess the EKG was fine. I didn't see or hear anything about that.

Oh... when I was initially waiting, I felt so nauseated, I sped off to find a restroom. I got into the stall just in time... for a dry heave. I'd eaten a bag of chips, a box of Yoo-Hoo, an apple, and half a corn dog earlier in the day, but had nothing in my stomach at that time. I knew I was supposed to have taken the antibiotic with food, but was feeling so yucky that I could not. So I went to the vending machine and picked the only thing I felt my body could handle: a Snickers bar. Protein and chocolate and some calories. It's better than nothing, right?

Yes, I have a run in my sweats. But I LOVE these sweats and can't find them new anywhere.

So there I was, being triaged while putting away a candy bar. I'm sure the nurse was impressed with my overall health and wellness plan.

By the time I got into a room, my pulse/ox was shifting from as high as 98 to as low as 92. My pulse began to slow, and eventually dipped below 100. And my blood pressure was 168/64 by the time I was released.

The doctor was critical of the Teladoc who had both prescribed Tamiflu without a positive swab for influenza, and also prescribed antibiotics, as well, as they treat the same things. He also told me that Tamiflu reduces flu symptoms by approximately 18 hours, which is the kid of crap that is exactly why I stopped taking antibiotics for my chronic (and now absent for nearly 13 years) tonsillitis. He said that the reason I'd gotten sick in the waiting room is that, ya know, meds you don't need make you sick.

I did test negative for the flu, and I have to tell you: If I had the choice to get another flu swab OR go through the birthing process from when I had Mal but not end up with anything to show for it, I'd rather do birth. That flu "swab" (which would more rightly be called a "painful sinus stab") was easily the most painful medical thing I've ever had done to me. I mean, I will NEVER consent to one again, and I will NEVER EVER consent to Mal's having one. He would never leave the house again. We can just operate under the assumption that we do not have the flu because even if we do, I'm not taking useless meds when we'll just get over it anyway.

After three hours, a couple of chest x-rays, some blood work the results to which I guess I'll get later, spilling my Route 44 Diet Coke all under the E/R private room bed, and who knows how much out-of-pocket expenses, I was discharged with an "unspecified bug" (disappointingly referred to as an upper respiratory infection, AKA "the common cold" in my paperwork), and instructions to ditch the Tamiflu and antibiotic, but stick with the steroid.

I tried to clean up, but I was attached to machines, and throwing paper towels on the floor spiked my heart rate to 123!

I drove home with the hazard lights on the whole way, and kept the hospital bracelet on so that, if I got pulled over, I could tell the police, "I KNOW, but it was an emergency, and we're getting it fixed ASAP." It was also foggy and eerie, and I tend to turn on my hazards when visibility is that low sometimes.

By the time I got home, I felt a little better, but could still feel my heartbeat so noticeably for the next 16 hours or so. I slept mostly sitting up, and slept better than I had the night before.

I don't know what that was, but I have never felt as terrible as I did on Monday. Maybe the colitis or whatever I had as a teenager was worse, but then I had people to take care of me. I could stay home from school. I could pass out and someone would help me up.

I almost never get sick, and even when I do, it tends to be some low-grade mehh sickness that passes in a couple of days. Getting really sick made me feel, honestly, very alone. And resentful of that, even though there's really no one to be resentful of. But it just makes me aware that there's no back-up plan for me. Like, I don't "get" sick days. I guess most moms feel this way? Or I'm just a really bad patient.

Anyway, yesterday morning, my parents came down to play with Mal so I could get some more rest. I knew something was up when Dad offered to take Mal to McDonald's, and Mal said he didn't want to go.

About an hour into their visit, I called Mal back into the bedroom with me. I held him, and he was burning up. Five minutes later...

I sent my parents home (after they'd had some of the cheeseburger macaroni lunch I'd promised them), but they left me Lysol wipes and a loaf of fresh bread my dad had made.

Mal woke up after a bit, absolutely baking and inconsolable. He wanted to go sit at the table, drink some soda, and watch videos. He sat there for a minute, then said he needed to use the restroom. Half way there, he "threw up" in the floor, but he hadn't eaten anything so it was just stomach acid and caramel coloring. Sorry, folks. This is real life. Also the ugly part where one of the first things that ran through my head was, "Welp, glad I'm at 85% because someone has to clean this up and nurse Malcolm."

He immediately went back to sleep in the back bedroom, I got things cleaned up, and I was especially grateful that my mom had given me a pair of house shoes for Christmas because the ones I had been wearing needed to be washed, as well.

I followed Mal around with a barf bag all day, and he hated it, swearing he'd never throw up again. He was highly disappointed that this was "The first time I ever barfed when I was 5!"

Custom blanket by Grandma!

After Mal woke up from this nap, he was ready for a bath. He had refused one earlier, because he said, "I don't want to have the problem again!" His problem is when he is finished taking a bath, but doesn't want to get out. I told him that if he lets the water drain out of the tub, it's easier because you cool off gradually, and then there's nothing left to do but get a towel and get out when it's over. Since he'd been using a damp rag on his face all day to cool his "cheek burn," he decided that trying a bath to cool his fever might be okay.

He successfully bathed, we washed his hair, and I noticed that even in the water, he was covered in goose-bumps. He went straight from the bath back to bed.

Yes, this is the mermaid towel from D's childhood. They've both loved it.

James got home pretty early last night and, wouldn't you know it, looked like an absolute train wreck. James gets sick more often than I do (he's around more people more often, so this makes sense), but here's the deal: EVERY time I get sick, he follows me within a day or so. And this, of course, plays into my whole, "I'm the only hope" mentality, of which I am not proud.

James went straight to bed (Mal's bed, since Mal was in his), and except for moving back into his room because Aish both wanted to be in Mal's room with James, and out of Mal's room when I shut the door because who knows why cats want to do anything, but I guess 5 repetitions of this was plenty. He slept basically 12 hours and looked a lot better this morning. He's working from home today, though, as he scared himself driving home last night (I know the feeling!), and he doesn't want to taint his cow-orkers.

I washed Mal's bedding while he watched videos and napped on the trundle bed. Then he got into his bed and I brushed his teeth with training toothpaste, so he didn't have to spit it out. He did want to rinse with water, but didn't feel up to standing at the sink, so I finally got to use that barf bag!

I laid down with Mal at about 9:30 and then finally discovered something that stupid $600 inhaler is good for!

Often, I wheeze when I lie down. There's something in the back of my throat, or down my windpipe, that, even when my lungs feel open and clear, it makes cat sounds. After half an hour of that regardless of my sleep position, I decided to do my final dose of that otherwise useless inhaler... and there was silence! YAY!

I'm going to stop taking it four times a day, as prescribed, and use it instead only when I'm wheezy at bedtime. It worked all night, and I don't think I snored, either. There appear to be about 180 doses left, so it's conceivable that it could last me a year. Fingers crossed!

Mal had a restless night, waking up and saying things like, "Where's the lava?" and going to the restroom a couple of times, always burning with fever. He woke up at around 6 AM, asking, "Mommy, tomorrow can I have some canned oranges?" I figured he was starving after his Tuesday diet, which consisted of half a bowl of cereal, and apple, and one bag of fruit snacks, so asked if he wanted some right then. He ate about 1/4 of the can very ravenously, declared himself stuffed, and dropped right back off to sleep.

He woke up a little bit later and asked, "Why can I see things in here?" I told him it was because the sun was coming up. "But I'm still tired!" I assured him he could continue to sleep.

It's almost 2 PM on Wednesday. I'm pretty much 100%; I managed to vacuum today and that was something I could not have done yesterday. Mal has slept on and off, eating most of the rest of the oranges. He asked for some milk and an apple and is working on that. He keeps watching these LEGO Star Wars play-through videos, and dozing off. He's less hot than he was a few hours ago.

James is working and still coughing, but we kind of all are. Hopefully D missed out on it. I did go around and wipe down all of the appliance handles, light switches, door knobs, toilet handles, faucets, etc. with the Lysol wipes my parents left. Oh, and last night I managed to make dinner for D and me with the bread my dad made.

Sautéed mushroom, spinach, and garlic with Alfredo sauce and mozzarella cheese. Very good. D especially approved.

Looks like we're all on the mend.

I'm operating under a working theory that Mal is actually "teething." He had a hard time teething as a baby, and yesterday I noticed that his front top right tooth is visibly longer than the left tooth. The dentist who did the fillings did a very poor job, but the teeth were at least even. I think that one is trying to come out. This news, of course, upsets Mal, who does not desire change, especially one that is evocative of aging, which predicts eventual independence. He refuses to wiggle it around to see if it is loose. So I guess we just wait.