so i've got an issue with people equating "cold" with "germs". all my life i've been told by folks from my grandmothers to my mom to Sam and the rest of his family that i'm going to get pneumonia. i go out to the car, barefoot, to retrieve something i've forgotten. it's not even freezing outside, but oh, my gosh---"you're going to get pneumonia!" they admonish. i walk the dog down by the beach, feeling the brisk wind in my hair. "you're going to get pneumonia!" Sam promises darkly. i walk outside for an errand--so what if i've forgotten my scarf? "DID YOU GO OUTSIDE LIKE THAT?" my mother in law may screech. "YOU'RE GOING TO END UP WITH PNEUMONIA!" the last time my mom was here, it was unseasonably cool. we took a trip to the grocery store, and as the bitter wind whipped through my light spring outfit, she scolded me. "why are you out in such a skimpy outfit in this kind of weather? you're going to get pneumonia." i laugh at them, sophisticated in the truth of my usual retort: "cold doesn't make you sick. GERMS make you sick!" humph. old-school thinkin' people.
so the experience i had this week just might've been some karma i've been collecting over the course of my entire life.
i blogged about the unfortunate series of illnesses that swept through the family, dropping us like flies, like dominoes, the week of our move-in. the kids soon recovered from their hideous symptoms, but my sinus infection lingered through a course of antibiotics (taken faithfully) and attempts to nap every time Zen did (even if it meant that no one could find a clean shirt for awhile).
My fatigue and lingering sense of general listlessness didn't worry me too much because, although i wasn't feeling up to speed physically, i have been wildly happy since our move to this amazing apartment in this amazing town. having friends right down the street, meeting people on every walk, soaking in the general anti-schaumburgness of evanston, having the opportunity to attend a cornucopia of events at church, at zion's school, with friends, has been delicious, like a bowl of hot soup on a cold winter's day.
we got free passes to the gym in our building and i worked out a few times. (they have yoga classes, yay!) we've been eating good food and spending quality time with loved ones--i figured that with all of this good-for-the-soul activity, that physical health would soon follow. so when i started getting sick again, i popped the nyquil and advil and kept on charging full speed ahead. I felt pretty bad on Thursday, but with enough dayquil and red bull in me, i got through the day. Friday came with more events to look forward to, including a movie night at Bethesda School and an overnight visit from zion's best friend, ben. i took the boys with me to work on saturday for an international festival we were having. we had a blast, and the red bull AND the starbucks i drank really helped me finish out the day. sunday came--i felt pretty lousy, but there were church events to attend and loved ones to cherish. i knew that it was probably time to see a doctor, though. i had looked up some local docs who sounded good and resolved to contact them on Monday morning to see who might be willing to see me that day and give me some antibiotics.
maaaaaaaan, did i feel punky on sunday afternoon. almost punky enough to try to locate an urgent care clinic, if i weren't so TIRED. ok, now i'm sick. i went to bed early and tossed and turned in misery all night. i knew i had a fever, but the thermometers were in zen's room and i didn't want to wake him. by 5 a.m., i couldn't see straight OR walk straight. sam had an important meeting to attend at work that morning. i decided to head straight to the ER and possibly get some treatment before he had to go to work, so i jumped in a cab and went to the hospital. as i got into the emergency room and checked in, i couldn't help but to be ashamed of being one of THOSE PEOPLE--you know, the ones who use the ER as a friggin' doctor's office instead of having the foresight to be sick on a weekday during office hours. i apologized right away as they took my temperature (almost 103 degrees despite the 800 mg. of motrin i had popped an hour earlier). i continued to apologize as they took my pulse (150) and plopped me down into a room immediately and started the i.v. my nurse told me to "stop that nonsense" as she pumped me with tylenol and fluids. and, later, gave me a narcotic for the strange, searing pain i had in the middle of the back that hurt whenever i breathed. and wheeled me down to take x rays and a cat scan. and gave me more narcotics. and introduced me to several rounds of doctors. and admitted me to my room on the cardiac floor upstairs.
the final diagnosis: wicked, drug-resistant sinus infection, racing heart rate, high fever, possible sepsis (blood infection), and pneumonia. Who knew that hours and hours of having a temperature hovering around 104 could make your whole body feel like every bone was breaking? or that narcotics, even when given as often as legally possible, do NOT mask the searing pain caused by fluid in the lungs? or that when you joke with the nurse and ask her if she'd tell you if you were dying, right? hehhehheh, and she DOESN'T GIVE YOU A STRAIGHTFORWARD ANSWER, that maybe it wasn't really a joke?
i spent 3 days in the hospital in a marathon of pain and under an umbrella of prayers coming from the east coast to the west. moral of the story: i am alive, but i need to take it very slow the next few weeks or perhaps even months. i need to listen to my body when it tells me it's breaking down. i need to ask for help even when it's hard (the story of how people pulled together to wrap us in prayers, provide meals and transportation and childcare and support and encouragement is another story in itself). and finally, to all you people out there who forecast this event--i humbly bow down to you. yes, i will eat my veggies. yes, i will wear my sweater. and my socks. and my scarf. yes, i will take my vitamins, get more sleep, and see the doctor as recommended. i'm glad you love me. i'm glad i'm alive.
xoxoxox
