After my week long hospital stay in Orlando I managed to stay out of the hospital for a whole three days before checking back into my local ER with excruciating abdominal pain. I was admitted for a few more days and was able to get the Gastric Emptying Study completed while I was there.
I left the hospital and went right to my GI who prescribed me a shot called Relestor–which was supposed to help with motility, but shock–surprise and awe! It didn’t help me.
I have more tests scheduled for next week (along with make-up appointments for my Botox treatments I missed while in the hospital.)
Yesterday I went to get my weekly IV at the hospital’s infusion center and left in panic and tears. Three attempts to dig around for a good vein threw me into a little bit of trauma. I ended up outside in the cold, my arms covered in tape and cotton absolutely losing my shit on the phone with my mom.
“I need to be sedated, I just need to be sedated. I can’t take people shoving needles in me anymore. I can’t think–I can’t handle it!”
My mom managed to get me to stop hyperventilating long enough to excuse myself from the center, grab my shit and drive out of the parking lot without totally falling apart.
My veins are just not what they used to be. Too many lines. Too many corrosive medications. And I’ve just lost my patience for the acute pain you have to deal with every time someone thinks they’ve “just about” “almost” or are “pretty sure” they’ve got it.
I’m back on liquids and just trying to get through the next few days of testing and treatments. One day at a time. One lead at a time. I’m trying to just get myself back to work and into my normal schedule. But I’m still pretty depressed and displaced about what’s happening next in my treatment. This has all been a little too intense for me to cope with in my usual way.
Which is generally telling myself to stop being such a pussy because there are people sitting across the room from me getting chemo or kids up the hall from me recovering from heart surgeries and is a little motility catastrophe any measurement up against the suffering of others?
Probably not, but it’s hard to tell yourself its NBD when people start seriously talking about chopping up your intestines or exiling your colon.
Maybe I just need more Oprah in my life. Or more online shopping. Or maybe I’m just cold. Or hungry. Or maybe the weather is getting to me.
I think maybe more online shopping. Yeah.
On a separate note, check out this baller necklace that my mom actually MADE for me. Spoons for days.
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