I’ve Got To Find A Better Way To Use My Vacation Time

For one reason or another, my body is rebelling against me. It has a grudge, and it is taking its revenge – very effectively.

Maybe I didn’t give myself sufficient time to recover from the miscarriage; I don’t know. Maybe it had some unknown effect on my immune system. What I do know is that I’m sick.

Last week was a roller coaster of emotions. At first it felt good to be back at work and distracted, and there were times when I could almost convince myself that I was fine. Only I couldn’t shake the sadness that was underlying it all, and I realized I had become extremely sensitive. The smallest thing could set me off into a crying fit, and this became extremely embarrassing when it happened on Saturday at work in front of everyone. That night I kind of lost it, and I was dreading going back to work the next day.

Well, as they say, be careful what you wish for.

On Saturday night around 11 p.m. I woke up suddenly and all I could think was, something doesn’t feel right. It didn’t take me long to realize that my stomach was unsettled. I felt like I might need to throw up, but couldn’t. After a very uncomfortable hour (or two; I didn’t exactly keep track) whatever had upset my GI tract finally started to come out – both ways. Let me just say that I used to wonder how my patients ended up with diarrhea on the walls and in their hair. I don’t anymore.

I spent the remainder of that night either huddled on the toilet or embracing it, all the while expelling every last ounce of fluid from my body. I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t keep anything down. When I started getting muscle cramps and my condition seemed to only be worsening, I got worried. Around 4:30 a.m. I had David drive me to the ER. For the first time, I was the patient.

I think I was there for about six hours, during which time they did tests, gave me lots of fluid, and some precious IV Zofran. Everything came back normal, and the doctor told me I just caught a bad bug which could take a few days to resolve. Once I felt stable enough, I was discharged with a prescription for oral Zofran and went straight to my bed.

For the rest of the day Sunday I didn’t move off my back. Even turning to the side made my stomach revolt. I got a few hours of sleep and woke up with a fever of 101.3, but two Tylenol brought it down. David forced me to drink some water and Powerade, but it wasn’t easy. We watched the Oscars from bed, and then went to sleep – me propped up on pillows because I was scared to lie down flat.

I just want to interject here to tell you how amazing David has been to me. I know he is grieving too, but he has focused all his energy on taking care of me. He stayed with me the entire time in the hospital, getting no sleep himself. When we came home he actually cleaned the house, because he knows how much that means to me. Then that night he went on several different errands for me when I decided I needed something, and all the while taking care of our crazy dogs too. I can’t imagine going through all this without him.

Today I feel much better, just because I haven’t felt any nausea. I’m on the BRAT diet (bananas, rice, applesauce, toast) now, although a toasted bagel, banana, and applesauce cup was enough to fill me up for the day. I’ve only gotten out of bed twice, and each time I do I feel a rushing headache. And all those crazy hormones and emotions? They’re still there.

I’m not very happy with my body right now. I’m not very happy in general, although I suppose that’s normal. I will be again, one day. Hopefully soon.