Archive for the ‘illness’ Category
- In: children | family history | health | illness | Women
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She was incontinent – hadn’t been in weeks.
The next morning, she had trouble breathing.
I told her if she continued to have issues, we should see the doctor.
She said she’d see how she felt as the day went on.
Later that day, she said she was fine.
Well, she wasn’t.
She was up all night, and kept Dad up for the next few nights.
She couldn’t breathe, wasn’t feeling well at all, but never said a word.
I asked Mom repeatedly if she felt OK, and she kept saying she was fine.
On her fifth day home, the phone rang.
“Hello. This is ADT Home Health Alert. We’ve received an alert, and an ambulance is on its way.”
Here we go again.
Back to the hospital…where we learned it was a very severe congestive heart failure.
Mom had it before, but not this bad. 
Later, the doctor said it was so bad, we almost lost her.
My grandmother used to go to the hospital a lot for this, and would spend a few weeks in the hospital.
But that was 20 years ago, and things have changed.
Now, after 3 days, the hospital was ready to send Mom home, with a very intensive follow up treatment.
Each day, my father would need to:
- Weigh her and log it: any gain of more than a couple of pounds would indicate she was filling up with fluid
- Take her blood pressure and log it
- Check her ankles several times a day for swelling
- Measure and monitor her fluid intake very precisely: too much would put her over the edge, too little would dehydrate her
- Provide a very strict diet: absolutely no salt
- Get her to take her meds—all her meds—at the prescribed time and in the prescribed amount, every single day, no exception
We had been struggling for more than a year to get her to take her meds as directed.
There was no way Dad would be able to handle this.
He’d tell Mom to do something and she’d bark at him and he would give up and not mention it again.
It was just easier to do what she wanted than to try to fight her.
So we elected to send her back to rehab.
If she had the strength, she probably would have kicked my ass.
But there was just no way.
The doctor told us that the CHF would not improve, we only try to keep it from getting worse.
Enter a nephrologist – she hadn’t seen one previously but the CHF put considerable stress on her already stressed kidneys.
Another doctor we’d have to visit.
This doctor concurred with the decision to leave the mass alone.
He would continue to monitor her kidney levels, and we’d need to see him every 2-3 months.
This was becoming truly overwhelming – taking her to all her doctors for follow ups was getting to be a full-time job.
And no one else will take the time, advocate for her, ask the needed questions or do any research.
My children began to see their grandmother as the one who took Mom away.
It seemed like I’d make plans with them—even something like watching a movie—then my mother would have an emergency and I’d have to leave.
They would cry like I just took away their favorite lovey.
I don’t want them to remember their grandmother that way.
The sad truth is, they probably will, because she has never really engaged them or tried to do anything with them.
Anyway, Mom went back to rehab.
We checked her in that night at 9 pm.
Yes, 9 pm!
We started to wonder why this couldn’t wait until morning – there had been a bad snowstorm, and it was so late.
Apparently, they couldn’t wait to get rid of her. She was driving everyone crazy.
Well, it’s what she does best!
It took 1 hour to get home from the rehab center.
It was normally a 15 minute trip.
Before I even got home, Mom called.
“Why did you leave me here? They don’t do nothing for me! Get me out!”
This lament would be repeated over and over.
Mom prefers to be waited on hand and foot, and rehab is not like the hospital.
There are less nurses and aides for more patients.
The calls came every hour.
“I could have gone home. Get me out!”
She got meaner and meaner, but by the next day had settled in.
What she missed the most was not having anyone to be her personal slave.
My dad had taken on that role.
Someone she could yell at any moment to do something—and he would do it, even if it meant foregoing something important for himself, like sleep.
Mom would wake Dad up at night if she couldn’t sleep, which was often.
She’d wake him to help her to the bathroom.
She was capable of going alone but why should Dad sleep if she wasn’t?
I’m not exaggerating.
She’d wake up hungry and bully him until he got up to make her something to eat.
And I’m not talking a sandwich or warming up leftovers.
She’d want a fresh meal—she’d demand it.
And Dad would get up to do it.
Of course, he never said a word to us.
He just did it.
Later, we’d learn that Mom had always treated him so poorly.
Even more so than we had witnessed.
And he did what she wanted, because he loved her so much.
And wanted to make her happy.
It’s been more than 50 years, and he’s still trying to make her happy, but unfortunately, she has never allowed herself to be.
But that’s another story.
Where Have You Been? Part II
Posted on: August 26, 2013
- In: 4 year-old | adjustment | children | complete molar pregancy | health | illness | kids | mom guilt | Mommyhood | Moms | parenthood | parenting | Uncategorized | Women
- 2 Comments
So where did we leave off before I got consumed by moving?
That’s a whole other story.
Oh yes.
STROKE ALERT!
A quick trip to the CT room and back, revealed there was no stroke.
Thank God.
But…
Yes, there was a “but.”
Something on the scan didn’t look right, so the doctor ordered a series of MRIs and MRAs.
The doctor gave no clue as to what he was looking for nor did he share any of his suspicions.
I didn’t even know how many tests I was about to receive until later.
Meanwhile, the vertigo was still an issue, especially with all the tests.
Another doctor came in and told me in order for him to figure out what this vertigo was, he had to do a test that would probably make it worse.
He raised me up quickly and turned my head really fast.
Holy cow!
Talk about speeding up the spin!
“A typical case of Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo.”
Say that 10 times fast.
“Or BPPV for short.”
Apparently, we have crystals in our ears that regulate our balance.
When one comes out of place, it creates the vertigo.
The doctor explained that this was treatable.
He said there was a therapy I could do to gently move the crystals back into place, and then it should go away.
OK! So set me up!
Not so fast.
“We have to get the results from your other tests first.”
Meanwhile, Peter left to be at home when the girls woke up.
It would be several hours before I got any answers—or any relief for that matter.
I was given a pill and an injection to help stop the vertigo.
They helped, but didn’t relieve it 100%.
The ER began to fill up – there was a flu epidemic and people were flocking to the emergency rooms.
Eventually, this ER would be shut down.
I had been in the ER for more than 12 hours before I received more information.
What’s a vertebral artery?
The explanation I recall from the ER is not 100% correct, so I’m not sure if I didn’t hear it right or it wasn’t explained well.
We have two vertebral arteries—one on the left side of the neck, the other on the right. They are major arteries of the neck.
The one on my left side was torn.
Wait—there’s more.
I was told there was an aneurysm blocking the entry point.
VAD happens typically when there is an injury, or in many cases, a chiropractic adjustment gone bad.
I had neither.
The doctor asked me think back to what has been going on in my life.
We discussed the molar pregnancy, the chemo, the neurological issues I have had since.
It could all be related. They just weren’t sure yet.
This is a rare malady.
And for now, they would pronounce the cause as “spontaneous,” though we would revisit this again later.
So tell me, how did I get two “rare maladies” in a little more than two years?
Lightning struck me twice!
Then came more news.
I was going to stay in the hospital.
And my children?
The nurse said, “Let your husband take care of it. You can’t stress yourself out.”
Well, stress is part of this game we call Motherhood, no?
NOW WHAT?!
A chest x-ray, a discussion about therapies, and a four-hour wait in the hallway for a room.
Yes, you read correctly.
The ER was so jammed, I was moved from my room and had to wait in the hallway of the ER until I could get the x-ray and a room became available.
I was offered the choice of several drug therapies—all involving blood thinners with varying side effects, as well as follow up methods.
I chose Xarelto, which was a relatively new blood thinner, since I wouldn’t need weekly blood work, and my diet would not be restricted.
Then came the rules for this game.
“There are several things you will no longer be able to do, and some for now, let’s put on hold,” the neurologist explained.
“You have to take it easy, and no stress. You need to heal.”
I told him I was a mother, and that was an impossible task.
“Well, you have to try,” he insisted.
Then came the litany of activity restrictions:
No running, no jumping.
No prolonged movements of the neck.
“You know when you go to the hair salon and they put your head in the shampoo bowl?” the doctor asked.
“Don’t do that. It can give you a stroke.”
WHAT?!!!
“No quick movements of the head either. Use extra care when you drive.”
There was more.
“No neck massages, no yoga.”
How was I supposed to relax?
“No aerobic activity. Walk on the treadmill, but at a slow pace and only for a short time. Listen to your body. If you get dizzy doing anything, stop.”
“Take your meds once a day with dinner. Do not forget or you will be an increased risk of stroke.”
I asked how likely it was that I could have a stroke.
The doctor said it was VERY likely if I didn’t follow the rules, and somewhat likely even if I did.
He told me that I was lucky.
Lucky? How do you think this is lucky?
It seems that most people do not know they have VAD until they have a stroke.
If you hear of people under 50 having a stroke—this is most likely why.
So I was a walking time bomb.
“Oh yes,” the doctor said. “You might want to not play with the kids. No horsing around whatsoever. Do not lift them. Do not lift anything heavier than 10 lbs.”
“Are you kidding me?” I asked.
“I wish I were,” he replied.
17 hours after I arrived at the ER, I was finally on my way to a room.
Somebody wake me up from this nightmare.
This cannot be happening!
————————————————————————————————————————
Check back soon to learn what happened next.
Where have you been?
Posted on: July 26, 2013
- In: health | illness | parenthood | Uncategorized | Women
- 2 Comments
That night, I woke up and rolled over to the right. I got dizzy. Hmmm. I hadn’t consumed any alcohol that night.
I settled back down and in a few moments the dizziness stopped. I drifted back asleep.
Sometime later I woke up and rolled over to the left. The room began to spin uncontrollably. What was happening?
No alcohol, I didn’t have a migraine, I ate…what was going on?
It wouldn’t stop. I tried to settle myself, but to no avail. I got scared and let out a scream.
“Oh my God! What’s happening?”
My husband ran up the stairs so fast, it’s amazing he didn’t fall and break a leg.
I explained the situation. The room wouldn’t stop spinning.
“HELP!”
Finally, after a few moments, sitting up, the spinning stopped. It was the weirdest thing I had ever experienced.
You know the head spins after a night of consuming too much alcohol…this was worse.
It was January. Almost one week into the New Year. This had happened to me once before, in August 2012.
My cousin came over.
We drank a bottle of wine, ordered some take out, and talked until the wee hours.
The next morning, I felt hung over. OK.
A while later, I got up from the couch and the room was spinning uncontrollably.
I’d sit back down, and feet on the floor, it would finally stop. This went on the entire day.
Every time I got up it was worse. I got sick.
I crawled around, because standing up made the room spin and started the chain of events again.
I was either on the couch or in the bathroom.
The girls stayed with me on the couch all day. They watched cartoons while I tried to sleep it off.
Just when I thought it was getting better, it got worse.
I was so sick, we decided that I probably had some kind of food poisoning. I couldn’t function.
By the next morning, I was fine.
I never thought twice about it because it didn’t happen again—until that January night.
Except, there was no alcohol involved this time. Hmmm…
So hubs ran up the stairs in record time and I explained the situation. He got me a drink of water.
As I sat there, various parts of my left side began to tingle and then go numb—one after another.
This was not normal.
My husband called and had my doctor paged. He immediately called back with a dire tone:
“GET HER TO THE HOSPITAL NOW! SHE COULD BE HAVING A STROKE!”
A what? Get out! I’m in my early 40s. People my age don’t have strokes.
Well, some do, but lightning already struck me once with a rare malady. What in the world?!
It was after midnight.
I didn’t want to wake the girls and drag them to the ER in the middle of the night, to stay for an untold amount of time.
We called our next door neighbors, who graciously came over right away so we could go to the hospital.
If it was indeed a stroke, there was only so much time to spare before there would be permanent damage.
This was all happening so fast and all I could think about was my kids waking up and wondering where I was.
I didn’t even think about the ratty old, stained t-shirt I was wearing—one kept more for nostalgia than looks.
So in that 25 year old t-shirt that really belonged in the garbage, and my pajama pants, I put on sneakers (yes, believe it or not, I left the house in sneakers!) and my husband and I set off for the hospital.
What was happening to me?
I was still dizzy on and off, and at varying degrees.
It was kinda like being outside yourself.
Who was this person and what was happening?
Why was I on my way to the hospital?
Why did I have something else going on?
What if I did have a stroke?
Who would care for my kids?
It was hard enough to find someone to watch my kids when I was going through chemo.
What would we do if I needed extensive rehab?
What?
What?
What?
Why?
Why?
Why?
At the ER, they were expecting me. The doctor called ahead.
I was quickly put in a wheel chair and taken to triage.
Then came the announcement:
“STROKE ALERT!”
It didn’t seem possible that the alert was for me.
Me, in my early 40s? Isn’t this something that happened to old people?
—-
Unfortunately this is not the opening of a novel or a short story. This is my real life story–the story about why I haven’t been around, why you haven’t heard much from me this year. Check back soon to read more.
From the Mommy Files... 