Once in the CT room, the techs maneuvered me onto a back board and then 1-2-3-heave-hoed me over to the CT table. I would categorize that as MORE THAN MODERATELY UNCOMFORTABLE. I'd already been heave-hoed into and out of an ambulance, and my incision was taking the brunt of it each time I was transferred.
The CT itself was a non-event ... I still had my eyes closed 99 percent of the time because of the bright lights, and before I knew it, I was being heave-hoed back onto the hospital bed -- OUCH AGAIN -- and rolled back through the halls and upstairs to my ER room.
Since it was so early in the morning (around 6:50 a.m.), it took a while to get someone to read the scan. I'm guessing it was sometime around 8:00 when the ER doctor came in to tell me that all of my organs were functioning well (which was great, because they were worried about organ failure) AND that the CT came back clear. I heaved a great big sigh of relief.
However, even with all of that good news, I still had the issues of massive fluid retention and uncontrolled hypertension, so the doctor said they were going to admit me and get those things under control. He said it might take a day or two.
A DAY OR TWO. Uh-huh.
They started me immediately on Magnesium to get my BP under control, and Internet. I am here to tell you: if you can avoid EVER going on Magnesium, DO IT. It is a miserable drug (but it serves its purpose). There I sat, roughly the size and shape of a log cabin (or one of those bloated whales that occasionally washes up on shore, take your pick), on a Mag drip and a few other choice meds, including morphine for the migraine.
They transferred me up a floor to the Perinatal Unit, but I really don't have any memory of the transport. I kept my eyes and ears closed as much as possible, and when I got to the Unit, the nurse scrambled around and found some thumbtacks to tack a blanket over the window to try and help with my headache.
Grayson stayed with me all day Saturday, and my sister and parents stayed at home with the boys and Amelia. I was so thankful to have the kids taken care of so that Grayson could stay with me during those first scary hours.
Grayson headed home around 6:00 p.m, and my friend Melanie came up to spend the night. Melanie is somewhat of a professional hospital sitter, having older parents who've required several hospital and rehab stays. She's a terrific advocate and great company. Not that I was great company in return; I was quite the opposite.
I didn't sleep all night Saturday night and realized early Sunday morning that I was having trouble taking a full breath. I got sort of agitated and realized I was feeling significant anxiety, and I think it was just the panic that came with not being able to breathe deeply. I got up and went to the restroom, leaned against the counter and tried to breathe slowly and deeply.
My body just wouldn't cooperate. I asked Melanie to call the nurse in, at which point I told her about the anxiety and asked for Ativan, one of the meds that was on my extensive list of "approved meds." Melanie said, "You COULD have just TOLD me you were freaking out."
I WAS sort of freaking out, but I didn't want to freak MELANIE out by telling her. (I wouldn't do that again. I'm all about patient advocacy now.)
Instead of giving me the Ativan, the nurse went out and called the on-call physician (you just KNOW they love being called at 6 a.m. on a Sunday), and he ordered a chest X-ray.
Me: "What's that about? Why do I need a chest X-ray?"
Nurse: "With your fluid retention, which is really significant, we need to see if you've got fluid building up in your lungs."
YET AGAIN, if you want my BP to skyrocket, tell me you've got to rule out fluid in my lungs.
I felt like this rollercoaster ride would never end.
To be continued ...
