Monday- severe sadness. Noticed it was just non stop lately. It always is around December. Winter is just hard on me. I knew it was bad when I heard myself say out loud, "Living should not be this hard." Paul got worried and called doc and made an appt for Wed.
Tuesday-well...you all know what a shitty day this was. There's two vlog videos on it.
Wednesday-Saw MD. He said we needed to be more aggressive in how we treated me b/c I seemed to be having some breakthrough symptoms even while on meds. He suggested revisiting SSRIs. That made me nervous b/c he tried it years ago with Cymbalta and it did not go well after one month. I was a walking corpse kinda thing (no creativity whatsoever). He said I was very sensitive to it and took me off. But he thought maybe this new med, the Celexa, might be better b/c it was milder. Took first dose that night.
Thursday-Felt awful. Combo of bad side effects and dread of having to deal with maniacal manager. Called out and stayed home to rest.
Friday-Woke up and felt better. That awful pit in my gut was gone. I had energy. Most of the flu like symptoms were going away. The drowsiness and dizziness and nausea was still there, but tolerable. Went to work. Confronted workplace bully. I felt nauseated all day, didn't eat lunch.
Saturday morning- wake up 3:30 a.m Something is wrong. Both my arms ache. Not like, you-slept-on-them-and-need-to-adjust-them ache, but more like a deep, bone pain ache. I kept rubbing the center of my palms b/c it felt like a nail was boring into them a la crucifix style.
I thought to take some pain meds, but I looked it up (b/c I worry about drug interactions) and found out you can't take NSAIDs or Cyclobenzaprine with Celexa. One will make your gut bleed (increased your chances, anyway) and the other can cause this rare but deadly thing called serotonin syndrome.
So I'm like, "Well, fuck. I can't sleep like this."
I get out of bed and go to my office, thinking that maybe since I'm up so early, I can get some writing done. But as I walked there, I notice that it was really hard to swallow. Not like sore throat pain. It didn't hurt. It was more like you're really aware of your throat and have to really focus on the motion of swallowing.
And, yeah, at this point, the logical, medically-trained part of my brain is like wide awake and screaming, "Call 911, you idiot. You're going to lose your airway and you'll get a tracheotomy inserted if they can't secure your airway."
But the patient part of my brain was in deep, deep denial. This wasn't happening. I was just tired. I was fine. It was fine. Its 4 a.m. and it's cold outside. I don't want to put on pants and get in the car and drive to the hospital where they're going to touch me and poke me and stare at me like I'm a specimen.
The clock ticked forward.
Five minutes later, I had to open my mouth to get more air in. I started panting. I sat on the chair and leaned forward so my lungs didn't have to work so hard. Panic made my legs feel cold.
4:10 am... Fuck. I'm getting scared. It's not stopping. I don't know if it's the medication side effect or fear but my mouth is spit-dry. I'm getting more afraid each time I try to swallow. I look at the mirror and shine a light in the back of my throat. Yup, the area around the epiglottis is puffy. That's what I keep feeling when I swallow.
4:12 am....I wake up Paul and tell him that I'm going to the hospital. He's all bleary-eyed and not even half awake but he says no, he's coming with. As he's getting dressed, my imagination is getting out of control and I start inwardly freaking out. I say, "Hey, we might need to call 911 if I pass out, k?"
"You won't pass out. We're on our way." He and I are randomly pick up articles of clothing and putting them on. Somehow I lucked out and grabbed the same pair of shoes from the pile inside hallway closet.
So then we get into the car and drive. Well, no he drives. I'm just panting in the passenger seat. If I wasn't panting, I was apologizing.
"I'm so sorry. This is probably nothing. I'm being ridiculous." Pant. Pant. Pant. "I think I'm just freaking myself out." Pant. "Can we put the window down? I know it's cold but I think I need to have some air."
Paul runs through 3 red lights on the way to the hospital. He parks in the handicap spot in the front of the ER and rushes me in.
The triage desk looks bemused at me, probably wondering what I wanted. Paul bursts in after me and says, "She's having a reaction. She can't breathe."
Then they start moving super fast. And then before I know it I'm in a room. And I'm wondering how many people have died in this room. And I'm wearing a hospital gown. And then I'm wondering how many people have died in this gown. Paul tells me to stop being morbid and focus on breathing instead of talking so fast. I'm freaking out because I know he's right but I can't stop using sarcasm because it's how I comfort myself but right then, it wasn't working and that was freaking me out.
Then the tech comes in and sticks stuff in my chest and hooks me up to the VS machine.
I got stuck with needles for blood and needle for IV. Oh, the circle of life...I used to do that to people.
Then the door opens while my top is down (cuz she's still putting stickers on me) and this cute dude, who ends up being my male nurse comes in and I groan.
He saw my boobies, my twin tatas. And yeah, I know, as nurses, we see a lot of naked people, but me no likey that he saw my girls without at least two alcoholic beverages. I have the same rules as a comedy club.
So I said, "Well, shit. I should be charging for this free show."
Anyways, all vital signs look good. Pulse ox was 98% and I effectively feel like a fool. I start apologizing to everyone in the room for all their effort and for trying to make sure I was okay. They all tell me to stop.
Doc comes in and tells me that even though vitals look good, I'm still having a reaction. It was good that I came in when I did. Airway is super important...because you know...oxygen and life? Right. So I feel a little better. I'm gonna be given IV meds and then watched and then probably discharged. Yay.
Then male cute nurse ...
---(I asked Paul if I could describe him like this and Paul said yeah. "Yeah, he was cute." Is there anything sexier than a man who is confident in his sexuality? Anyways...where was I?) Oh right.---
Male nurse. Meds. IV. Instant relief. Tingling to my throat (thanks to the Pepcid) and I felt weird (thanks to the Solumedrol) and then really drowsy (thanks to the Benadryl).
Then things got really foggy after that. Paul says I made a vlog video. Very little recollection of that but I checked my phone and saw it there. I was drugged up the whazzooo, but whatever.
I think we left (I think a little before 630 a.m.) and Paul went to Chickfila....I think....and somehow I went from the passenger seat of the car and woke up in my bed at like noon.
Called Dr who prescribed meds on Wednesday. He called back immediately. He said that my reaction was rare (yay me for being special!) and that he wants me to go back to the medication regiment before Wednesday. Seeing him next week...sigh* thats three weeks in a row that I've seen him on my day off. But I guess brain health is important. Sigh* I miss having a day off all to myself.
But all in all, that was my drama past 30 hours. Don't forget the work drama too. So much drama, I felt like I was living a telenovella. All I needed now was an evil twin, the return of an ex lover I thought dead named Ramon, a secret baby, and oh, amnesia, of course.
Hmm...how would that work. Okay, so it turns out that Paul's real name is Raoul. And that there was an accident, a car accident where I was in the car with Ramon. Ramon is Raoul's nemesis (woah, what's up with the R names?) Raoul didn't know I was going to be in the car or he wouldn't have cut the brakes. He just wanted to kill Ramon because of what Ramon did to his family. Raoul is actually in love with me and after I survive the accident, I'm told I have amnesia and Raoul tells me that we're engaged to each other. Then the doctor comes in and says I'm pregnant. I think it's Raoul's baby but it's not. It's RAMON's! I know, right? So then a few months pass and life is pleasant but then ratings get low because nobody watches a story without conflict so let's turn the heat up a notch.
So I'm preggers and Raoul is deeply in love with me but he's worried that I'll find out the truth about what happened. Also, he finds out that no one has ever found Ramon's dead body. And on our wedding day (oh, he proposed, did I forget to mention that?) right, I'm about to say I do, but Ramon interrupts. Dios Mios!And I turn in the dress and Raoul turns and Ramon stares...and we all have twenty second of air time while we play mannequins who look like we're trying to hold in farts.
And just when you think it can't get anymore dramatic, my evil twin enters the picture. She's wearing all black and she's actually been a spy who's been out of the country but she resents me for having a normal life so while I'm in the bathroom freaking out, she chloroforms my ass, puts on my wedding dress and pretends to be me!!!
Dum. Dum DUUUUUUM!
Ugh. These meds. My head hurts. I gotta lie down. Just wanted to let you all know all is good in the hood.
K, bye!!!
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