Drawn in the infinity symbol, this line echoes what circulates through my life.
Yes, love begets life begets love begets life...
Yes, that is circulation.
Ironically, this kind of circulation (pictured above, and for ME - lack thereof) almost killed me. I didn't know that I had developed blood clots that moved to my lungs. These were pulmonary embolisms. I was more concerned with how AWFUL I felt - and I had no awareness that my lungs were a problem. I was too sick with what I thought was a stomach bug.
I didn't get the best care at short term rehab. (DETAILS WILL NOT BE DOCUMENTED HERE), and when I came home, I was weak, short of breath and had no interest for food. UNBEKNOWNST to me, circulating in my intestines was a deadly infection called C-diff... contracted in medical facilities or after certain kinds of antibiotics after being in a medical facility. To say the least, people end up losing parts of their intestines and even get "poop transplants" (YA. It's a real thing,) because what is circulating in their system is destructive.
One week home, and my over the counter meds were not really touching this "stomach bug", then, I had 5 days of violent, gut ripping, explosive diarrhea that left me very, very weak and dehydrated. (Couple this with me having a throat infection (THRUSH) where everything tasted metallic, or like paper.) I was dehydrated, under nourished, under rested and miserable. I was unaware of the other life threatening things going on.
My friend called to the Urgent Care on March 1 (a Saturday) and spoke to the advice nurse. It was recommended that I go in. IMMEDIATELY, the Dr. saw what a state I was in, and ran as many tests as their clinic had, and then sent me by ambulance to get more tests at the hospital.
I had no idea how SICK I was. I had no idea how SICK I sounded; how SICK I looked! The doctor confided to my friend (after I'd left with paramedics, and headed to the hospital/ER...): "I hope she'll survive the ambulance ride. She may not be alive to make it to the ER." (This severe description was withheld from me for two months.) My sister (who had gone to the ER later, too), RECENTLY told me: "When it all happened, I called people to tell them about you. I said: "I have NEVER seen anyone look so sick that wasn't almost dead."
I think I am grateful it took a while to be told. It would have over-stressed me, when what I needed was to focus on recovery, I guess.
At the ER and after hours of tests (and a resting heart rate of 127), they ran me through a CAT SCAN, and found multiple blood clots in my left lung, Pulmonary Embolisms. If the embolisms (blood clots) move - it is fatal. The risk of heart attack and/or stroke will take you down. They immediately said I had to be admitted.
It was March 1; it was a grueling Saturday. They stabilized me immediately with meds to prevent a stroke or heart attack with blood thinners and injections. I had asked my doctor why I wasn't released after I was stable on those drugs. He let me know that - more serious - was this intestinal infection. I was still writhing in pain with every frequent bathroom trip and they were collecting constant samples. I had a lot of visitors (many more than my surgery and re-hab), but (again), I was too sick to have awareness of the severity. I was miserable and hospitalized, drugged and battling. I still had Thrush and was barely eating (or keeping anything down.) For five days, I had intense treatment. I was on IVs, injections, meds (and I was in the infectious ward; everyone who came in or out had to wash, gown, glove, leave the gowns and gloves in the room and wash again...) - I began to improve. I was released on March 5th, and finally home by 6 pm. I was still unable to get around on my own. I was half using a wheelchair and half using a walker.
In those days at the hospital, I had SO GREATLY improved. I was eating. sleeping, had energy and on meds to kill this infection and to "manage" by blood thinned levels on Coumadin. (This medication is so unique and specific, that the hospital has a clinic devoted solely to Coumadin management.)
I went for regular blood level tests, checking my "INR" which is a number to see how the blood was clotting. If the number was too low, then the stroke/heart attack risk is high. If the number was too high, a person could bleed too much (if something happened to them.) The goal is for the INR number to be between 2 and 3.
After my second test, it was dangerously too low, so I had to start injecting myself with LOVANOX. (It's a fast acting medication), and it keeps you out of the danger zone as it supplements the Coumadin. The first day, after the Coumadin clinic, and a Rx for Lovanox at home (self inject), I wigged out. As I awaited (all day- the Rx was called in to the wrong place), I stayed in bed, trying to not over do it and or have a stroke. My numbers had tested WAY too low.
Unaware that I was stressing and had LOW blood sugar, I began to feel odd. I couldn't put my finger on it, so I called 911. I swear I had a dozen firemen and paramedics in my bedroom in under 10 minutes. They tested me out (I hadn't been home even 24 hours) and they said I was fine. I got someone to pick up my prescription ( which wasn't ready until about 6 pm) and I learned from my neighbor (with paramedic training) how to inject myself. It became "old hat", the injections, but I hated them.
I am not a person who has needed medications. I have had no high blood pressure, no cholesterol problems... healthy and a "unremarkable" history. This shakes me. Shakes me to my core. It shakes me with fear - rage - outrage - and also with respect. I am seeing over and over and over and over the:
"love begets life begets love begets life..."
I have volunteers: THE ANNIE BRIGADE - of people who have driven me to appointments, called, shopped/brought me food, brought me meals, come in and done house-cleaning... The circle of love, life, love, life --- is blessing my socks off.
This is my response to all the love:
Ear-To-Ear!
