Guess Who's Back... Back Again...
C-Diff's back... with a friend.
So, last week saw me back in the hospital with an oldie but a goodie. The gastric invader that attacked me during my stem cell transplant decided to reappear and bring something special with it.
C-Diff is no joke. For anyone who's had to go through it, all I can say is... solidarity, yo. It's bad, y'all.
Thing about C-Diff is that most of us already have it. It only shows up when everything else has gone to $#!+. Pun intended.
I spent about four or five days in denial. "No. This isn't C-Diff. This is something different. Not as bad." Hoo boy, was that some serious burying of my head in the sand.
Thing is, that wasn't the only thing going on. I was also wiped out. Like, middle of nasty chemo wiped out. I'd stand up and get woozy. I'd walk from my bedroom to the living room and get winded.
I have a problem. I have some pretty nasty internal voices that yell at me all the time. One of them is constantly singing the refrain, "You're just weak. Stop being a wimp." It resonates in my skull most of the time. So when this started happening, I just ignored it. Oh? I'm running a fever? It's nothing. Oh? I'm short of breath? That's cool. Oh? I can't take a shower without sitting down halfway through? It's not a thing.
So instead of taking care of this right away, I spent about a week driving my wife nuts with my constant whinging. Finally, after some intense late-night conversations, I agreed to go in and talk to my oncologist about it. I was scheduled to get my blood drawn anyway, so when I got there, I let them know everything that was going on.
Everything.
This was the Monday before last. I spent the next five or six hours in a room by myself, with occasional visitors who would poke and jab at me with needles and stuff. Lots of tests. Blood cultures. Stool samples (that's always fun). Lots of taking of vitals. X-rays on my chest.
It was decided that it would be best that I go to the hospital. That should have been a relatively simple thing.
It wasn't.
Because I recently went through the stem cell transplant, the hospital down here wanted me to go up to the hospital an hour north, where the transplant happened. Thing is, the hospital down here is like 10 minutes from my house. It also happens to be where my wife works.
After what felt like hours of back and forth, they finally told me I could be admitted down here. Now all that remained was actually getting in.
The hospital is, thankfully, doing screenings of people coming in. They check temperatures, ask if you've had a fever or cough or shortness of breath. I had experienced all of these things except for the cough. So getting past the door was a bit of a gauntlet in and of itself.
They've also locked down visitors. No one gets visitors. Period.
Just as a side note, can you imagine? Especially some of the older patients who have difficulty staying completely in touch with reality? It's kind of a nightmare.
So my week in the hospital was pretty lonely. My wife got to come check on me once, because she was working and because she was a nurse. Otherwise, that wouldn't have happened.
And they found out... basically nothing. Turned out I had mild pneumonia in one lung, so that was something. But my red blood cells and platelets kept dropping. They gave me a transfusion of blood and my values went down. They tried it again a couple of days later, but did it really slow. That seemed to work well enough that they were able to send me home that Friday.
Oh, and on that Saturday, my son came home from Chile, where he's been the last four months, serving a mission. And he has to be quarantined. FUN. We just gave him the downstairs and told him to come up to the landing if he wants to chat or anything.
We still don't know what's up with my heath. Not for sure. It could have been a lot of things.
But for the moment, I'm holding pretty steady. Come Monday, I'll have some more tests... I think they're trying to schedule an echocardiogram and stuff.
The not knowing is always a challenge. And it seems to keep happening to me over and over and over again. Stuck in limbo without an answer. Forced to take things day by day or hour by hour or minute by minute.
Apparently somebody is trying to teach me something.
I hate that.
Nevertheless, I'm okay. Surprisingly so. I'm connecting with my daughter in a way that would be impossible without this whole COVID situation. I'm able to connect with my students, even though it's not the same as teaching them in person. I get to watch my wife go in and bring lives into the world (she works in labor and delivery) and then come back home, sanitize her entire body, and cuddle with me. The C-Diff is getting better by the day. I'm still tired and winded, but not nearly as bad as I was.
Life is good.
---------------------
Up soon... a revelatory look into the mind of my 15-year-old daughter. Shudder.
 |
| 'Sup, Slim? |
So, last week saw me back in the hospital with an oldie but a goodie. The gastric invader that attacked me during my stem cell transplant decided to reappear and bring something special with it.
C-Diff is no joke. For anyone who's had to go through it, all I can say is... solidarity, yo. It's bad, y'all.
Thing about C-Diff is that most of us already have it. It only shows up when everything else has gone to $#!+. Pun intended.
I spent about four or five days in denial. "No. This isn't C-Diff. This is something different. Not as bad." Hoo boy, was that some serious burying of my head in the sand.
 |
| This is fine. I am fine. |
Thing is, that wasn't the only thing going on. I was also wiped out. Like, middle of nasty chemo wiped out. I'd stand up and get woozy. I'd walk from my bedroom to the living room and get winded.
I have a problem. I have some pretty nasty internal voices that yell at me all the time. One of them is constantly singing the refrain, "You're just weak. Stop being a wimp." It resonates in my skull most of the time. So when this started happening, I just ignored it. Oh? I'm running a fever? It's nothing. Oh? I'm short of breath? That's cool. Oh? I can't take a shower without sitting down halfway through? It's not a thing.
So instead of taking care of this right away, I spent about a week driving my wife nuts with my constant whinging. Finally, after some intense late-night conversations, I agreed to go in and talk to my oncologist about it. I was scheduled to get my blood drawn anyway, so when I got there, I let them know everything that was going on.
Everything.
This was the Monday before last. I spent the next five or six hours in a room by myself, with occasional visitors who would poke and jab at me with needles and stuff. Lots of tests. Blood cultures. Stool samples (that's always fun). Lots of taking of vitals. X-rays on my chest.
It was decided that it would be best that I go to the hospital. That should have been a relatively simple thing.
It wasn't.
Because I recently went through the stem cell transplant, the hospital down here wanted me to go up to the hospital an hour north, where the transplant happened. Thing is, the hospital down here is like 10 minutes from my house. It also happens to be where my wife works.
After what felt like hours of back and forth, they finally told me I could be admitted down here. Now all that remained was actually getting in.
The hospital is, thankfully, doing screenings of people coming in. They check temperatures, ask if you've had a fever or cough or shortness of breath. I had experienced all of these things except for the cough. So getting past the door was a bit of a gauntlet in and of itself.
They've also locked down visitors. No one gets visitors. Period.
Just as a side note, can you imagine? Especially some of the older patients who have difficulty staying completely in touch with reality? It's kind of a nightmare.
So my week in the hospital was pretty lonely. My wife got to come check on me once, because she was working and because she was a nurse. Otherwise, that wouldn't have happened.
And they found out... basically nothing. Turned out I had mild pneumonia in one lung, so that was something. But my red blood cells and platelets kept dropping. They gave me a transfusion of blood and my values went down. They tried it again a couple of days later, but did it really slow. That seemed to work well enough that they were able to send me home that Friday.
Oh, and on that Saturday, my son came home from Chile, where he's been the last four months, serving a mission. And he has to be quarantined. FUN. We just gave him the downstairs and told him to come up to the landing if he wants to chat or anything.
We still don't know what's up with my heath. Not for sure. It could have been a lot of things.
But for the moment, I'm holding pretty steady. Come Monday, I'll have some more tests... I think they're trying to schedule an echocardiogram and stuff.
The not knowing is always a challenge. And it seems to keep happening to me over and over and over again. Stuck in limbo without an answer. Forced to take things day by day or hour by hour or minute by minute.
Apparently somebody is trying to teach me something.
I hate that.
Nevertheless, I'm okay. Surprisingly so. I'm connecting with my daughter in a way that would be impossible without this whole COVID situation. I'm able to connect with my students, even though it's not the same as teaching them in person. I get to watch my wife go in and bring lives into the world (she works in labor and delivery) and then come back home, sanitize her entire body, and cuddle with me. The C-Diff is getting better by the day. I'm still tired and winded, but not nearly as bad as I was.
Life is good.
---------------------
Up soon... a revelatory look into the mind of my 15-year-old daughter. Shudder.
I friggin love you man! So effing tough! I can’t imagine the suffering you’ve gone through. Yet you always seem to have a smile on your face. I aspire to be like you, though I nearly always fall short. Your story, although cancer is not the same as chronic Lyme disease, reminds me of my wife’s own journey. Both of you are survivors. I also pray for your incredible wife. Helping the love of our lives through struggles with illness takes its toll. As you know, my body gave up on me 3 years into caring for my wife’s Lyme. My resulting troubles in school are no secret.
ReplyDeleteI love you and I admire you deeply. I pray that you can continue to get stronger every day. I pray that you will be able to look back and say “I was badass at kicking cancer to the curb!” Again, I pray for your wife, that she may maintain her strength enough to continue helping you get through these tough times!