The Progeny
They Were Wrong - Part 3
Oh BOY were they wrong. About the colonoscopy prep drink being the worst part.
[Right now I'm going to stop and thank God for my husband, Loren. He's been to hospitals numerous times and has developed a well-deserved aversion to medical incarceration. Loren was a real trooper to take me to my procedure and sit through all the "wretched" excitement.]
I don't remember much about our reception upon arriving home, but the children could no doubt tell I wasn't feeling well.
My first goal was getting from doorway to bedroom. Hopefully without gagging in front of the kids.
Loren must have pulled them aside after I went past, for they were exceptionally quiet, courteous and helpful the rest of the afternoon and evening. And he also installed a baby monitor in the bedroom with dual listening posts downstairs. Nice to know I could just give a yell if I needed help.
After trudging up the steps and positioning my bucket, I was about to climb into bed when I noticed a disconcerting cardiac reaction: ....bup.....bup.....bup.....bupbupbupbupbup.....
.....bup......bup.....bup......bupbupbupbupbup....
(Ah...that's probably the exertion from climbing the stairs....wowee...I'm a mess....gotta lie down....)
Bed was not much comfort. Still nauseous and waiting for the meds to wear off; but at least it was quiet.
So quiet I could more readily concentrate on my symptoms.
The pain in my head now extended to my nose, and then to my teeth.
(My teeth hurt....now that is weird...)
(Man...it's a little hard to catch my breath.....what is that tightness in my chest?....OK...now I'm getting a little......hmmm, is that back pain between my shoulder blades?.....and my arms feel strange.....)
In my misery I realized most of the symptoms were classic indicators of a woman's heart attack. But I couldn't quite believe that possibility. Still, I wondered if I should call out to someone over the monitor.
Everything felt so awful and now I had to make another decision. The kids had already been home for much of the day without us, and I hated the thought of dumping that on Carolyn again. What a dummy I'd feel like if we got over there and then had to come back home. It would take SO LONG. And the emergency room would cost extra money. Plus, I did not want to move.
It was clearly going to be way too much trouble so I decided, "Hey, if I die, I die. I feel too bad to care that much."
I was a little ticked I hadn't voted early, though.
Happily, I not only drifted off to sleep but woke up and decided it was time to return to the land of the living, downstairs. Or at least the recliner and a CD.
Once or twice I would amble out to the kitchen. Carolyn was concocting supper and had everything under control.
Looking in the bathroom mirror I noticed my face was red. Also, a red nose was not terribly becoming.
Figured I ought to try drinking something so I sipped a bit of beef broth. That was a mistake.
But eventually I made it 2 hours without becoming sick to my stomach. And after tolerating ginger ale I became exceptionally brave, taking ibuprofen and acetaminophen for my headache.
The palliative powers of GLAD, followed by my Three Tenors VHS rounded out my evening in the recliner.
Bed didn't seem all that enticing but I tried it anyway, and when I woke up at 2:30am I was stunned to realize the sick feeling had faded. I still felt weak, as from a horrible flu, but I knew recovery was on the horizon.
In the following days we discovered the medication I'd been given--Sentanyl--must have caused an allergic reaction. Everything I experienced read straight off the side-effects list. I will never, ever, take that medicine again.
Nothing else to say except "Thanks" to my husband, Loren.
And thanks be to God.
Tweet
[Right now I'm going to stop and thank God for my husband, Loren. He's been to hospitals numerous times and has developed a well-deserved aversion to medical incarceration. Loren was a real trooper to take me to my procedure and sit through all the "wretched" excitement.]
I don't remember much about our reception upon arriving home, but the children could no doubt tell I wasn't feeling well.
My first goal was getting from doorway to bedroom. Hopefully without gagging in front of the kids.
Loren must have pulled them aside after I went past, for they were exceptionally quiet, courteous and helpful the rest of the afternoon and evening. And he also installed a baby monitor in the bedroom with dual listening posts downstairs. Nice to know I could just give a yell if I needed help.
After trudging up the steps and positioning my bucket, I was about to climb into bed when I noticed a disconcerting cardiac reaction: ....bup.....bup.....bup.....bupbupbupbupbup.....
.....bup......bup.....bup......bupbupbupbupbup....
(Ah...that's probably the exertion from climbing the stairs....wowee...I'm a mess....gotta lie down....)
Bed was not much comfort. Still nauseous and waiting for the meds to wear off; but at least it was quiet.
So quiet I could more readily concentrate on my symptoms.
The pain in my head now extended to my nose, and then to my teeth.
(My teeth hurt....now that is weird...)
(Man...it's a little hard to catch my breath.....what is that tightness in my chest?....OK...now I'm getting a little......hmmm, is that back pain between my shoulder blades?.....and my arms feel strange.....)
In my misery I realized most of the symptoms were classic indicators of a woman's heart attack. But I couldn't quite believe that possibility. Still, I wondered if I should call out to someone over the monitor.
Everything felt so awful and now I had to make another decision. The kids had already been home for much of the day without us, and I hated the thought of dumping that on Carolyn again. What a dummy I'd feel like if we got over there and then had to come back home. It would take SO LONG. And the emergency room would cost extra money. Plus, I did not want to move.
It was clearly going to be way too much trouble so I decided, "Hey, if I die, I die. I feel too bad to care that much."
I was a little ticked I hadn't voted early, though.
Happily, I not only drifted off to sleep but woke up and decided it was time to return to the land of the living, downstairs. Or at least the recliner and a CD.
Once or twice I would amble out to the kitchen. Carolyn was concocting supper and had everything under control.
Looking in the bathroom mirror I noticed my face was red. Also, a red nose was not terribly becoming.
Figured I ought to try drinking something so I sipped a bit of beef broth. That was a mistake.
But eventually I made it 2 hours without becoming sick to my stomach. And after tolerating ginger ale I became exceptionally brave, taking ibuprofen and acetaminophen for my headache.
The palliative powers of GLAD, followed by my Three Tenors VHS rounded out my evening in the recliner.
Bed didn't seem all that enticing but I tried it anyway, and when I woke up at 2:30am I was stunned to realize the sick feeling had faded. I still felt weak, as from a horrible flu, but I knew recovery was on the horizon.
In the following days we discovered the medication I'd been given--Sentanyl--must have caused an allergic reaction. Everything I experienced read straight off the side-effects list. I will never, ever, take that medicine again.
Nothing else to say except "Thanks" to my husband, Loren.
And thanks be to God.
Tweet
posted by Ma Hoyt | 10:43 PM
6 Comments:
I'm not sure I deserve that much praise, since it would have been a crime to let all that training I've had the last 18 years go to waste. But most of all the kids and I are so happy to have you back again in good spirits.
Your grateful husband.
Wow mommy!! I'm so sorry to hear you went through this. What a story... can't wait to hear all the gory details when i get home. I am mad at the doctors for giving you that stuff, and by the way you should never hesitate to complain if something might be serious! Anyway, so glad you are OK. :)
This comment has been removed by the author.
Hmmm. I should be checking the blog more often, just in case there ever are comments, ha ha.
Sharon, it was the typical drug they give to people. In fact, one lady in our church had been given something else, reacted badly to that and then got the drug they gave me and she was just fine. You never know until it happens.
I couldn't believe how wonderful I felt on Tuesday, even though I was still weak. Now I'm back to feeling semi-punk-as-I-was-before the procedure. Probably related to my time of life. Boy do I wish I could get the "well" feeling from that one day back, though....
(man I hate Blogger sometimes...after I posted the comment twice because it wasn't showing up, it now won't let me delete...oh well)
My goodness, what a HORRIBLE experience! Yes, I can certainly understand now that you thought this was worse than the bowel prep! :-)
It reminds me a bit of when I had to get my appendix out and they gave me IV contrast for the CT scan which I happened to be allergic to. I recall swelling up and struggling to breathe within a couple of minutes and the doctor saying things like 'Now you stay with us, Miss Hoyt! MISS HOYT!!! You stay with us...' hehehe. A miserable experience, but makes a good story afterwards.
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