Melusine and the GreenMan

The good: I was released from the hospital last night around 6:30pm after demonstrating I am not an idiot and know how to administer my Lovenox shots. Well duh. I've been taking them faithfully for the last 3 months.

Dr. Bitch as I'll call her, was my attending physician Tuesday; she treated me like I was stupid in general; the discharge directions included when to take Coumadin (daily for the next 6 months) 10mg, and NO GETTING PREGNANT DURING THAT TIME. I am on Lovenox only for the next two days, and then just straight Coumadin with bi-weekly blood tests.

Okay - the WHOLE reason I ended up in the hospital is because I was not put on the right dosage of Lovenox after the DnC back in November. I should NOT be the one who is punished. I find that it f*cking PISSES me OFF that they are messing with my reproductive rights because of THEIR screw up.

Yes, I have strong feelings about this. I am willing to compromise though - I called both Dr. Ney the perinatologist and Dr. Weinshel the Hematologist to discuss terms. Dr. Weinshel is willing possibly to compromise, but I have to go see him or his NP/PA in two weeks. I'd be willing to wait 3 months, or even 4 months. But a whole 6 months just seems stupid. At this rate, Alli is going to be 7 years old before there's a baby (or twins heh!) born. C'mon! It's soon or never. Dave's not getting any younger, either - he'll be 38 in October. I told him just today that his swimmers are old and dying quicker every day. He laughed, but he knows I'm right!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I walked in the door last night - Alli didn't know I was coming home - and she raced down the stairs to tackle her Mommy. It was the sweetest and best hug EVER. It made me realize - again - how lucky I am. And how much my family loves me. Heck, Dave even cleaned the cat box for me. That is a major deal in our house.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

And so, Dr. Bitch released me to return to work today. I even kinda sorta asked to be released back on Thursday, but she said "You're able bodied, aren't you?" And idiot me, I responded with "Yes, I'm able bodied". Seriously, how can you explain to a stranger that being hospitalized exhausts you and you really aren't sure if you even have clean clothes to wear to work tomorrow because you were in the hospital over the weekend???!!! You just don't go there with someone who already treats you like an idiot.

So, I went to work today. Friends greeted me, I received hugs and well-wishes, a new plant, and a nice "Welcome Back" balloon. It's nice to feel the love. Now, dear reader, I head to bed as I am beyond exhausted and just want to get some good rest. Did I mention that to top everything off, the crimson tide decided to begin today? Yep, you got it.

I cried like a little girl this Tuesday morning.

You want to know what brought down me, a 263 pound woman who's endured countless lab stabs and blood draws in the last decade...?

It was the thought that they had to put a NEW IV site in. Of all things.

A nice IV nurse, Marge, came in, took one look at the IV site and asked me if it hurt. Of course I'm going to say "no, it's fine" with a smile on my face when it took them 4 pokes to get it in in the first place.

She shook her head and said because my arm was a bit puffy, it meant they needed to do another IV; the current site was shot as the Heparin had infiltrated the tissue around my vein.

I cried. Silently at first as big, fat tears fell. I sobbed brokenly, but quietly as Marge looked on sadly. She knew what trauma her appearance would bring; she told me later she made alot of people cry without ever meaning to and was sorry for it.

She brought the IV accoutrements in and starting talking to me. Within seconds I felt a small poke and in another 5 seconds she was done. She secured it, apologized, and we talked for a few minutes more.

I found out why I had to endure the multiple punctures that I did the night I came into the ER. Marge filled me in: Apparently the hospital cut the budget and they were no longer offering IV Nurses from 11pm to 7am. All IV Nurses from that shift have either be reassigned or laid off. This is a bad thing.

However, it's over now. I have a new IV site, am still getting Heparin, and I think I don't have another lab stab until tomorrow morning.

They let me shower this morning; I was still hooked up to the IV though. It was a funny sight I'm sure, watching me walking to the shower, with the infusion machine in front of me. No, they aren't waterproof, unfortunately.

Roommate #2 was my most favorite hospital roommate EVER, so far.

Talk about a spitfire! We were up talking until 3:30 in the morning on topics ranging from cancer to food, politics to health issues, to lab draws (or 'lab stabs' as I like to call them now).

Our nurse, Molly, would come in and get really involved in the conversations. We even learned at one point what a 'code 21' was for room 608. Apparently it means someone isn't too happy and needs to be restrained due to threatening physical violence. Yikes.

By the time we were done cackling and giggling, our room was nicknamed 'the party room' because the nurses would come in and visit and giggle with us about whatever we were talking about.

And then we were woken up around 6am for the lab guy.

And then we fell back asleep for another couple hours after breakfast.

Shortly after I'd finished eating, the surgeon came in for my roommate; within 20 minutes they decided they were going to perform the operation to draw out the fluid surrounding her lungs and then some.

We called to each other from across the hallway as they wheeled her away to surgery: "It's been a pleasure! Good luck!"

Apparently her surgery went well, and she is now on the 3rd floor - the 'surgical floor'.

And now...I am alone.

And so I surf the internet, praying to the Goddesses and Gods that I get to go home tomorrow. I won't know though until after they do my 7:30 am lab stab to draw for my INR numbers -- they want it between 2 and 2.5 -- yesterday it was 1.37. Yeah, not so good.

Dave and I were curling up in bed late Friday night when I realized I couldn't get comfortable and it hurt more than usual to breathe, with a pulling sensation crossing my left side of my chest.

Chest pain.

ER.

Again, images of a week spent in the hospital flashed in front of my eyes.

Dave prodded me; we should just go.

In the ER, the docs decided to perform a CT or Cat scan to view my lungs and any major arteries. It took the poor ER nurse guy, John, 4 tries to find a good vein that was close enough to my heart. According to John and Courtney, the imaging tech, it has to be nearest to my heart as possible for the injectable dye to get where it needs to go.

I made it back to the ER room #12 and waited. Dave and Alli came to check on me a couple times. Around 3:30 am Saturday morning Dr. Sherri came to me and said they had found a suspicious mass on my lung that they were going to be determining to be a clot ... aka pulmonary embolism.

They immediately started Heparin via IV and I've been hooked up ever since.

My breathing has gotten easier, and the clot in my leg has already dissolved - no leg pain whatsoever. In the grand scheme of things, I am not as bad off as others.

My first roommate came in about an hour after I was settled - about 5am. In her lat 30s, she was a nice lady with Lupus and extreme depression. Most of Saturday night we spent talking about my sister's Lupus and how this lady could follow through and make herself better physically and emotionally. It was sad - by the end of her stay, Sunday morning, she was begging and demanding mental health help and was told that she had already been discharged according to her doctors and she was to follow outpatient care orders with her regular physicians.

I'll let you know how my second roommate works out - she sounds like fun. They just brought her in - she has lung cancer, has had a double mastectomy due to breast cancer, and is currently on oxygen --- she works as a secretary at the House of Reps in Minneapolis.

So all in all, I'm okay and in love with the chicken noodle soup here. There's always an upside.