Hey everyone! Welcome back to the story right after I got back home from over two months in California!
Getting home was going pretty great! I had developed a new method to help myself feel more human – I called it “chewing and spitting.” As gross and weird as this may sound, eating is such a huge part of the human experience (just try watching television for a short time without watching commercials related to food or drink). My doctors have always agreed and cheered me on when I have found unconventional ways to feel as human as possible.
Welcome back! Anthony and I only had a 21 hour day yesterday! With flight delays and all kinds of stuff, we didn’t end up getting home to Fayetteville until about 1:00 AM! Is this time change messing with anyone else? Also, as I’m starting to realize how long this story is (how in the world are we already up to Part 14!?) I’m thinking I might start sprinkling in some other posts, just for fun! What do you guys think?
As for today, we’ll continue with this story!
Four days of being home, eating, doing life and feeling pretty decent went by. Then, I had my first bad night. It might have been a combination of me “over-doing it,” and eating too much – I couldn’t tell you exactly what triggered it. But I had my first bad night outside of the hospital. Four days was a pretty good run at it though!
Wow! What a fun-filled weekend! We are currently waiting at the airport, as our flight plans didn’t work out as they were set to. But that’s okay! I’ve been wanting to have some spare minutes to get on here and post the next part! So here we go!
I left you with the exciting news that I was starting on clear liquids. In this post, I have to begin by telling you that 3 days later, suction had to be hooked up again. While my gut was moving some, my stomach was not emptying. Things were so backed up that nausea got the best of me and I had to go back to nothing by mouth. I was bummed. This was not how things had ever gone. In a typical hospital visit, I would have been on to mashed potatoes and chicken fried steak! But this time, I could only dream of eating those things.
Hey everyone! We are on our way to Sacramento, California to attend a seminar for TPN patients! We are so excited to have been invited to come to this event and provide input on some new possible products and to learn more about what’s happening in the TPN world!
Jumping in today where we left off yesterday!
The very next day, I was on my way to my new (shared) room at UCSD! I had my sassy powers all lined up to get into the first private room available! When I arrived, my new roommate didn’t even wave back when I was wheeled into the room! (If you’re up on your TV shows – as Stephanie Tanner from “Full House” always said, “HOW RUDE!”) Now for the good news – this hospital was swanky as all get out! It felt like a nice hotel. It had wood floors, big palm trees in the lobby, built-ins for the TV and cute little drawers for my clothes and stuff! And even better, before I had spent a full night, my nurse came in to tell me that my private room was ready! Oh thank heaven for diligent nurses.
After a couple of days with more x-rays, blood sugar and blood pressure drops, my doctor came in and had a sit down with me. He told me I needed to start back on TPN. He said they were going to place a PICC line (remember the last time I had a PICC and didn’t use my arm for the entire week of having it? Yeah, that kind) and get me to a baseline of health with the help of TPN. I told him I did not want to lead them to believe that I was going to continue on TPN and I wanted answers to how I was going to get better. But at this point, I did agree that TPN was the safest option.
While I was getting mentally prepared for the PICC line placement (I thought I would have at least a full day to do this since hospital time usually makes things take seven times longer than you’d expect) someone knocked on my door and came in. They had the terrible cart with them that means PICC line time. I hadn’t even had an hour to process this mess! Get out of here! But no, it was time.
My first question was what I was going to be given so I didn’t remember the procedure. I can’t handle vein talk. I can’t deal with people looking around on my arm with a sonogram thing to find the perfect vein. I just cannot. I knew I wasn’t going to get through this without some help from some drugs. After we sorted this all out and I was less anxious, I got my second PICC line placed and they got me started on TPN!
Sorry for the delay in getting this post out! I know some of you are following along day to day. The last few parts to this story may come out with a couple days in between. My husband, Anthony, and I are going to Sacramento to attend a seminar this weekend! I will try to and write as much as I can while I am gone!
Everything I was trying to ignore during this scary time (I believed that everything was fine though, due to all of the “It’s going to get worse before it gets better,” talk) had me desperate to get away. I decided to make the eight hour drive to Perryton, Texas, (the town I was born and initially raised in) to visit my great Aunt Lucy and several friends who lived in the area. A couple of days after July 4, 2013, I did just that – I loaded up my tiny green Fiat and left for Perryton.
When I got there, I had to explain to Aunt Lucy the crazy diet I was on several times. She was well into her 90s at the time and still thrives on chocolate. She knew a little but hadn’t really been told a lot about all of the “tummy troubles” so it was tricky for her to understand why in the world I wasn’t eating any fun sweets! I stayed true to my diet and took my gross supplements and drink things but I was barely able to tolerate any of it. I really don’t know how I was still able to function after that long car ride.
After a few days, I went home knowing I had a flight to southern California in a couple of weeks. I was going to visit Lukaza (a friend from the pre-college program at California College of the Arts) and my Aunt Judy! I was so excited about this trip. I craved getting away. I don’t know what it was – perhaps the desire to run away from what I knew was all bad news.
On July 22, 2013, my dad took me to Dallas Love Field to catch my flight to sunny California. He asked me several times if I felt okay enough to make this trip. My dad is cautious and asks questions and he knew that I was not doing well, but ultimately he supported my choices. I was so weak I had to be pushed through the airport in a wheelchair, but I was adamant that yes, I was fine and wanted to get on the plane to go to California.
As we waited for loading, we sat and talked and laughed in the waiting area. My dad recently told me that as the attendant wheeled me down the catwalk to the plane, a couple sitting near us in the waiting area had asked if I had just completed treatment for cancer. I was so weak and looked so bad that my plight was obvious to everyone (even complete strangers). Nevertheless, I flew out, with all my gross supplements and I was ready to enjoy some California sunshine.
I landed in Los Angeles where my friend, Lukaza, and her mom, Suchi, picked me up. I’m sure they were terrified just looking at me but they’re so sweet and didn’t say a thing. We went to their house in Santa Monica and they listened to me tell them all about this diet and the hopes I had for my health. Suchi took us to pick up a dinner that fit my guidelines. They were so accommodating.
In the middle of the night though, I started vomiting. The next morning, I was so weak I couldn’t get out of bed.