It's been a rough week. I feel really bad that I haven't been able to get on here more often, but my emotional and physical strength have been very touch-and-go.
I will start by saying I'm typing with one hand — the one with the IV in it. My other arm is raised above my head in effort to combat the results of an unfortunate IV incident I'll get to in a bit.
Since so much has happened over the past several days, I'll just share some "highlights."
The second attempt at administering my IV drug started with a syringe full of Benadryl being plunged into my IV line, and ended with me spending 24 hours in ICU.
Picture — nurses crowding around my bed, zooming in and out of focus like some dream (nightmare) sequence in a surrealist movie, asking me things in slo-mo like, "Do you know your name; do you know where you are; can you squeeze my fingers?" while I shook uncontrollably, my blood pressure skyrocketing, unable to form complete sentences or muster a voice louder than a whisper.
They called in the rapid response team, and did an EKG and two different blood tests in the midst of transferring me to the intensive care unit for around the clock monitoring.
The visiting rules are different down there, so it was the first night I spent in the hospital alone — hooked up to machines, with a window over my bed and a nurse on constant watch. By the time all was said and done, I was too tired to be scared.
The next night, with a little help from some pre-medications, I took the IV just fine, and was able to move to my new "penthouse" suite. I allegedly have the biggest room in the hospital, for which I am grateful, given the constant stream of visitors who have brought along activities to distract me during my treatments. (Let's just say I watched six episodes of Downton Abbey in one day, and became an expert at Apples to Apples and Monopoly Deal.)
My neurologist ordered an EEG test after two nights of scary tremors to look for seizure activity in my brain. Thankfully, none was found.
The only other real setback so far was when they had to change out my first IV. My nurse couldn't find a new location for it because, as she told my family, "her veins are tired." She called for reinforcements, and the next nurse had to "dig deep" to find a viable vein. On top of being a painful process, the "very toxic" drug ended up flooding my tissue instead of pumping into my veins.
Picture — the aftermath of a tracker jacker sting; or if you've not done yourself the favor of reading the Hunger Games trilogy, try a distorted Nerf football shoved under the skin of my forearm.
That was days ago, and the pain and swelling in my arm still keep me up at night. They say it will be a while before the drug absorbs entirely into my bloodline.
There have been some bright points too. My sister came home from South America and decorated my hospital room, which is now referred to by the nurses on my floor as "the sparkle room," and by my family as "the Beyonce suite." (Beyonce allegedly had her own luxury hotel-style suite built for her baby delivery at a New York hospital. Now, my room is pretty "vibed out," but a luxury hotel it ain't.)
My aunts came to visit from Dallas, and I've gotten beautiful flowers and drop-in visits from some of my closest friends. I also got a visit from a patient therapy dog named Bo on a day I was really missing my own dogs. It seems God has been sending me just what I need, exactly when I need it. Including prayers and messages from the kindest people all over the country, and even the world. It's been a bit overwhelming, to say the least, and I couldn't be more grateful.
I am taking 5 pills every six hours, and now that the drug has started to affect my kidneys, they have me on a saline drip for four hours before each IV treatment. All in all, I am hooked up to IV bags for 7-10 hours a day. I'm left feeling queasy, feverish, headachy, and outright agitated. A few hours into the IV bags, I start to get really edgy, and it's hard not to stay that way.
But I am on an oncology floor at the hospital, and when I walk around to get my exercise and see what all these other patients are having to go through, I realize my predicament could be so much worse, and I pray for God's help to remain faithful and thankful.
I had a really hopeful blog post all typed out a couple of days ago, before getting smacked down by the news they want to keep me hospitalized at least through the middle of next week... Um, I cried. Really hard. I miss my dogs really bad, and I miss the freedom to walk outside, take a bath, be alone, sleep uninterrupted, and not have people poking me and sticking me and asking me to rate my pain or tell them how many times I've gone to the bathroom or why I'm not eating the hospital food.
But I try to keep in mind that it's somewhat of a miracle I'm here to write this blog post at all; and the treatments I'm receiving — while ranging from agitating to gruesome — could be even worse; and I have so so so many people praying for me! More than I could have ever imagined. And when I feel really defeated, and like I can't bear to let them stick one more needle in me, I think of everyone praying for me, and know I can (and must) forge ahead.
Please don't cease praying, or sending me thoughtful messages, even if I can't always respond. And please don't stop offering to visit, even when I don't feel up to accepting.
I'll try to get back on here soon with another update…
All my love,
-Molly
PS - The picture up top is Bo. He was laying on my lap in the hospital bed, and when I picked up my camera phone, he immediately started doing tricks :)