Back in the Hospital

So I haven’t updated the blog since my birthday story because I’ve been very sick. Long story short, after several diagnoses and rounds of antibiotics, one trip to the E.R., all while fever/chills continued, my parents stepped in.

My parents know me very well. Obviously. Sometimes I don’t like that. In fact, when they showed up last Saturday morning before 9:00 a.m. together, I was miffed. (That’s my dad’s word for me when I’m irritated with them) They insisted they were taking me to another hospital E.R. Admittedly, I wasn’t in the mood to be told what to do; I’d been running these weird fever/chills for over two weeks and I was just plain cranky. Jeff and I had just sat in an E.R. waiting room for 12 hours overnight (the worst possible time to be waiting) and I was released with a “bladder infection.” Perhaps I had one, but that certainly wasn’t all I had.

Anyway, when my parents showed up and I realized their plan of attack which was: don’t call Audrea and warn her we’re coming because she’ll get huffy and forbid it, but we’re coming anyway to bodily put her in the car if we have to and take her ourselves.

My dearest Jeff was no help. He saw me with frowny-face and simply shrugged his shoulders and said “whatever Audrea decides to do is fine with me.” That was not the type of help I was anticipating.

My mother told me to go take a shower, which I refused to do on the basis that I felt uncooperative. I’m 32 years old and I was acting like a teenager. I wish I had considering it was the next day before I finally got to bathe and I stunk.

So, I donned my clothes for the day, my Kindle (girls, that was the BEST gift ever), my pills, and my attitude. I marched to their car and slammed myself in the back seat all in a dramatic huff. You may wonder why I didn’t just say “no”, but you don’t know my parents like I do. I quickly ascertained they were serious and they weren’t going anywhere until I gave into their demands, so I figured if I went, I wouldn’t start a ridiculous argument and we could get the next 12 hours over with sooner.

I had my paper and I’d drawn a calendar of the month of February. While dad drove, I chronicled every day of fevers, the prescriptions, doctor visits, the temps if I remembered them, and I had myself a hand-drawn spreadsheet of my ailments.

Happening to look up at the rearview mirror, I saw my dad smiling. I frowned. He laughed and asked if I was still “miffed.” I snootily told him I hadn’t decided yet.

They took me to Baylor All-Saints in Fort Worth. We were the second people to walk into the E.R. Within 3 minutes, I was taken back to a room, blood drawn, my spreadsheet examined, my story told. I couldn’t believe it. It was so fast, and they were incredibly thorough. I wound up being admitted and I felt a little silly because I thought they’d find nothing wrong with me and send me home. Well, they were pretty sure there was some infection somewhere in my body. They were right. My blood cultures came back with some little germy bacteria taking up residence and whose name I can neither remember nor pronounce.

I was in the hospital for 5 days and met some of the most interesting nurses/techs and I was very well taken care of. I had to swallow my pride (and my angst) and tell my parents they were right and I was wrong and I was thankful they’d intervened. In fact, my mother even had me repeat a line or two of her own, which I did. It went something like “Mother, I’m so glad you cared enough about me to disregard my feelings and get me the help I needed.” It was a bit more flowery than that, but you get the picture.

Within two days of being in the hospital hooked up to heavy duty i.v. antibiotics, I was feeling so much better. Those little uninvited intruders had been zapped! I did have to have a new central line put in, but this one happens to have two “prongs” (for lack of the actual medical word), so I can be hooked up to my TPN and i.v. antibiotic at the same time. It’s still pretty tender as is my old hole. Apparently, 6 months with one line and no infection is pretty good. Hoping to make it longer this next time!

Considering the gravity of my last hospital stay, I was really quite fearful of this one, but those sweet nurses and doctors allayed every fear I had, and they took exceptional care of me. The night I was to be released, I even got to see the surgeon who’d saved my life initially, and that was such a treat. You better believe I gave him a big ol’ hug. I didn’t know he rounded at that hospital, too. If you’re ever looking for a general surgeon in Fort Worth, just send me a message. I know the best.

Moral of this story: Even if you’re an adult, sometimes it pays to still listen to your mammy and your pappy!