Hospital

Energy is running low, but it's high time for an update. Here it is:

I've been in the hospital all week. Saturday, Sunday, and Monday (March 21-23) I had some of the worst days of my existence, complete with barf-a-thons and IVs followed by more barfing. I hurled before I went to the hospital and when I left the hospital. Nothing was helping. I felt so scared! I had no idea how I was supposed to survive another 6-8 weeks of such intensity. Finally on Monday night, I called Dr. Weaver and asked what I should do. He said if I was his sister, he'd tell me to go check in to the hospital. So I did, and I've been here ever since. 4 days and counting. 

The PICC line. You know, it's surprisingly difficult to take a picture of your own right bicep using an iPad.

I'm on a constant fluid drip, which goes straight into my newly insterted PICC line in my upper arm. And it's not just fluids--the juice they're pumping me with has vitamins and minerals and some glucose in it too. It helps. I'm glad it's helping because the alternative was to get a tube down my throat and get fed that way. Gag!

Peeking in the mirror from my bed in the hospital. That yellow stuff in the bag up high is the TPN (vitamin-IV-juice). It looks like pee to me. 

They give me 1, 2, or sometimes 3 different kinds of nausea medicine at once. Zofran, Reglan, and Phennergan. The Phennergan makes me so sleepy! That was the game-changer though. Nothing else was working on my first night as an inpatient, and they finally gave me a double dose shot of Phennergan. Wow, it worked, but it also knocked me OUT. I don't remember ever feeling so stoned as I did under that double dose of Phennergan, even post-wisdom tooth removal. I could barely open my eyes, much less stand up! A nurse took 3 vials of blood from my hand and I don't remember it. Since then, they've cut my dose in half so it's not quite as debilitating.

While I was somewhat stoned, they did an ultrasound. The little jelly bean is thumping away in there. It seemed like there could easily be two or three or more in there--I was sick enough! But it's just one. I'm so glad we're both alive.

After a night in the hospital, I was able to start taking a few bites of applesauce every now and then. By day two, I added bananas and a plain turkey sandwich. Now I can even handle a little peanut butter and bagel. I've stabilized at last. But I am scared to change anything--going home and trying to survive on my own is daunting. When I do go home, I will have a home health service set me up with a fluid pump that goes into my PICC line so I can stay hydrated around the clock. 

I've said it before and I'll say it again: we know the dearest people here. Flowers, visitors, babysitters, meals, you name it, they've done it over and over. It gives me this little sobby ache in my heart when I think about all the love and kindness we've recieved.

And that's about it with the news. I don't know when I'm coming home. I just recline in my motorized hospital bed by the hour, snuggled up with my 4 most comforting cozies: my homemade pillow case from a past Relief Society, my pink blanket that my Grama Brown made me when I was 3 (the thing is falling apart and I'm scared it will become a pile of lint next time I wash it, but it's so soft and comfy), my "sick and afflicted" fleece blanket that our sweet Relief Society made for me last time I went through this prego-sickness, and my "husband repelling" tie died rainbow leopard fleece PJ pants that my Mom made for me when I was pregnant with Rose. I snuggle up with my cozies, look at my flowers, and wait for the days to pass.