Update!
Even though I seemed to kill the thread last time.
The bacterial infection DID come back with roaring efficiency. The day I went into the infectious disease doctor’s office I was running a fever of 103.7. She wouldn’t even let me go home to get stuff. It was straight back to the hospital for me. My eye, had also swollen to the size of a nectarine. That might have had something to do with it.
This of course was accompanied by the most excruciating pain I had felt since starting this mess. She wasn’t sure if it was the infection or leftover shingles pain, or both. So at the hospital I got an IV of Vancomycin and an injection of 1g Dilaudid. I was literally crying with pain before they got the Dilaudid into me.
I spent the night weirding out the night nurses who were surprised I seemed to be awake at all hours. (I am quite the night owl) I got a multitude of blood tests in preparation for my second PICC line. The night nurses and CNA’s were all wonderful. When one of the nurses was wondering why my blood pressure was still way up despite being on a hypertension medication, she asked if I was still in pain. I hemmed and hawed because I didn’t want to seem like a baby, or a druggie. She rightly guessed that the pain was still keeping me up and called the doctor who upped my dose to 2g Dilaudid and let them dispense it to me every two hours if I needed it.
At night, I really felt bad about needing it, but I did.
It took several days for the blood tests to ascertain that I didn’t have a blood infection, so they scheduled me for a PICC line the next day. This was still day time, and I was a little worried about getting the PICC. It was rather painful the first time. I was explaining this to my boyfriend, when Nurse Heretofore be-named Ratched came into the room. She saw my O2 was down and I was a little wheezy. I blamed this on the fact that I have asthma and ti’s the season for me. She blamed it on me having a full blown panic attack.
I asked for my rescue inhaler she told me to “Breathe Deep! If you control your breathing you cannot have a panic attack” I wheezily told her that I would like to breathe deep but the asthma was kind of preventing it. She brought the inhaler, but said, only because it would make me feel better.
The boyfriend and I exchanged a “WTF” glance. And I dammed the fact that it is written and obvious from the meds that I take that I have a panic disorder. I am fully able and aware to tell if I am having one, or if I am asthma wheezy. Why people, particularly healthcare people don’t get that, I have no idea. There is still this damn prejudice on it.
I had a full blown, movin no air asthma attack later that evening. Two tasty breathing treatments, and I felt much better, thought he attending physician made me sleep with the wee little pulse oximeter on my finger which I guess was handy as I kept dumping my O2 below 80% on room air. They put me on oxygen as a precaution.
A few hours later, my boyfriend left to go home to bed. I had been holding off the pain meds so I could be awake with him and the pain got pretty intense. When the nurse got to me, I was crying, and the Dilaudid didn’t seem to relieve the crying. She rightly assumed I was panicking and asked why I was worried. I told her that I was worried because I thought the PICC might hurt, and that I was concerned that the hospitalist would just release me without adequate pain control. (He had done so before, telling me to take up to 1000mg of Tylenol for shingles pain). The night nurse, and cna assured me that he wouldn’t release someone who was on 2g of Dilaudid for pain. I would probably be in the hospital a few more days as the Vancomycin brought the swelling down, and they could see better if a small lump by my tear duct was a reservoir of pus or just a leftover shingles lesion. I hiccuped and sobbed as both the nurse who came an went as she needed to, and the cna soothed the panic attack. When the attending physician offered some Ativan because my O2 was starting to head for the high 70’s to head off the panic I gratefully took it. And felt much better. Reassured that I would have adequate pain control, and as it happens, asthma control cause hey! I was already there!
(I should mention here that the hospital is small, inpatient only has 10 beds only 6 of which were occupied while I was there, so there was plenty of attention for everyone. Also, they were training for a newly opening Orthopedic Hospital one floor below so they had nearly double the staff needed for their inpatients. Nurse Ratched belonged to the trainee bunch.)
The next day dawned early, and the Nurse Ratchet was my day nurse along with another one I didn’t see. She immediately went to go see if I could be taken off 02. She got permission, and I ordered breakfast. The darn pulse oximeter kept beeping while I was eating breakfast. I was only getting about 82% on room air. The hospitalist came in while I was eating breakfast, and told me they would probably keep me a few days, while the pain got under control and the swelling went down. I showed him the small swelling my the corner of my eye and he thought it may have been a clogged tear duct.
After finishing breakfast, they came to get me for my PICC line insertion. I had a little trepidation, but I was most irritated as Nurse Ratched called from behind the nurses desk, “REMEMBER YOUR BREATHING!!! YOU CAN’T PANIC IF YOU BREATHE DEEP!” Inwardly I rolled my eyes. I was not panicking. If I was weeping, pacing, wringing my hands, and moving my legs rapidly I would be panicking. I certainly wasn’t then.
I got my PICC line installed, and it was much better than the last time. The doctor judiciously used lidocaine in my fat arm and I felt nothing except a slight tugging. Any time I reported pain, he zapped more lidocaine in. The procedure went perfectly, and I even got to have the PICC line in my right arm which is much more convenient for bathing.
I went back to my room and began to settle in when the hospitalist came in. He told me that he found one of his friends to look at the swelling on my eye, but he could only do so with a special microscope he had. So I had to go there.
And he wanted me to go that day.
When I inquired about pain control he seemed convinced that the little swelling at the corner of my eye was the root of my pain and I wouldn’t need the pain control I had. I asked about my asthma troubles the night before continuing into the day. He said the morning nurse thought they were just panic issues. I offered to put the damn pulse oximeter back on so he could see how I was doing on room air, but he just patted me like I was a silly goose and went to write my discharge papers.
Disbelievingly, I called my boyfriend to come get me. As this was 8am, I had to wake him and get him moving.
I went into the hall and asked Nurse Ratched to ask the doctor about pain meds, she reluctantly went into the side room where he was and asked him. She came back out and I asked about my asthma troubles the night before, she told me that they were a panic attack.
She hadn’t been there. I am not sure how she thought she knew. I mean the night nurse and the respiratory therapist thought it had been an asthma attack, but hell what did they know.
I asked her why the breathing treatments had helped, and she told me because I THOUGHT they would. When I asked why I was still breathing about 80% O2 at breakfast, she said she didn’t see that, even though she herself shut off the incessant beeping of the machine.
I gave up in disgust and went back to my room and dressed. I had just finished packing up when she came back in my room with my discharge papers asking me why my boyfriend hadn’t gotten there yet. It was about 9am. She handed me the papers, describing the prescriptions I was leaving with, and mentioned oral dialudid. I felt a little better. She mentioned that the doctor had prescribed some Ativan for emergencies, but NOT a LOT. (She actually shook her finger at me when she said that one). Other medications I already had I could continue but the doctor was adding Lasix, as I had been taking on water like a sinking ship apparently from a combo of the antibiotic, and the new blood pressure medication. I had IV Lasix while I was there and thought it would work similarly. It got shot into my IV and about 5 minutes later and for about an hour and a half had to go to the bathroom every 10 minutes or so.
She then irritatedly asked where my ride was because this other doctor was expecting me, she wouldn’t leave the room until I called my boyfriend to make sure he was on his way.
We left the hospital and immediately went to this other doctor who apparently would magically use his microscope and make it all better.
I was a little worried when I saw he was an ENT and a dentist I shit you not. Well, he didn’t use any magic microscope, merely decapped the swelling, thought it was still a bit of the shingles on the very side of my ocular cavity. I told him that the hospital told me they thought this should reduce a great bit of my pain and he very vehemently told me no. He doubted it, and commiserated, as apparently his wife has chronic pain and told me while I had this shingles and infection going on it would be a struggle. He removed a teeny bit of dead tissue and sent it off for culture.
I left his office feeling like a fool.
We went to the pharmacy to fill the prescriptions, and I felt I would be OK, because my pain would at least be controlled, and the infusion pharmacy would be dropping off my home Vancomycin so at least it would get better.
I felt OK until the prescriptions came out, and then I felt like an even BIGGER fool for not reading them. The Dilaudid he changed to 2mg every 6 hours and he gave me 20 pills in the Rx. Every 6 goddamn hours when I was taking it every 2 to 2.5 and had the nurses URGING me to let them know before my pain level get above a 5 because it is apparently harder to get it back down than keep it at a manageable level with a regular dose. He also forgot to write an Rx for Neurontin, which he put me on in the hospital to try to take down the nerve pain from the shingles. So, no Rx for that. He did however put me on Potassium, 2meq twice daily because apparently Lasix sucks out your potassium too. Damn those pills are huge. Lastly, the Lasix, oral Lasix. Which we picked up in the evening…
This is pertinent.
The pharmacist asked if I had had it before, I said yes, in the hospital. I didn’t think at the time that oral dose, and IV dose were different. The IV dose would act much quicker…
Meanwhile, I called my regular doctor blessed be her name. She told me to take the pain pills as necessary that night, and to call her early in the A.M. To tell her what the frequency was, and she would write me an Rx for more pills, as well as an Rx for the missing Neurontin. I called her early the next morning and told her the frequency I was taking the dialudid was about every 3 hours or so. She was aghast as the 20 he gave me wouldn’t have gotten me through the weekend. She wrote an Rx for more dialudid, telling me to taper my dose as the swelling went down and the hurt got less, and wrote an Rx for the missing Neurontin… She saved me from a weekend of hell I think.
So remember the Lasix, the good ol’ Lasix, that I thought I knew how it worked?
I took the Lasix when I usually take most of my meds. Before bed… Also, keep in mind I was on a strong pain pill…
I wet the bed.
Thoroughly.
I wet the bed so damn bad, that when I woke after weeing the first time, and being horrified at what I had done, I put down towels an put on a heavy flow menstrual pad. I woke again when I did it again, saturating EVERYTHING. The towels I put down, every damn blanket I had… everything…
Tearfully I went to the bathroom again. Tempted to just stay up. My boyfriend was awake when I came in the room. He told me it was OK. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t my fault, and I should come back to bed and sleep on the other side of him (we have a very large kind size bed) and he even put down some MORE towels on the other side and got an extra blanket.
We both finally woke at about 9am finding I saturated that side of the bed too. The cat had gone for higher ground and was sleeping atop my boyfriend’s head. We decided to get up. He again told me it wasn’t my fault, and he would wash everything. I peed so damn much that it was literally running off the sheets onto the floor.
He led me downstairs to our office, and suggested I take a nap in the chair while he started the wash. When I objected saying I didn’t want to pee that up too, he went to the closet, pulled a tarp out of our camping supplies, spread it atop the chair, put a sheet on top of that, got me new dry clothes, and sat me down for my nap.
I slept all day.
I awoke to the excruciating eye pain nearly 8 hours later, popped a pain pill and found my boyfriend had been a busy beaver. He had washed ALL the bed clothing, EVEN a few pillows which I had apparently gotten wet. We have probably 6 or so blankets on the bed and 3 sheets. (Why yes, I do nest like a bird). He had also been to the local home improvement store and had bought me little wire shelves and a plastic set of drawers for my clothing. I had been digging for my laundry in makeshift baskets before that.
We went to my regular doctors office where we picked up the Rx for additional pain pills, and for the Neurontin. Then we went to Walgreen’s and while we waited for the Rx s to be filled he helped me pick out adult diapers so I wouldn’t be paranoid to go to bed. Because as the pharmacist on duty this time horrified told me to take the Lasix early in the day, and it would take several days to get used to the sudden and frequent urges as my body dumped off the extra fluid.
So several days have passed. The Vancomycin is doing it’s wonderful job and I am a lot less swollen than before. The pain is much much less, and I called my regular doctor to ask that she put me on a less strong pain pill as the dialudid was making me feel mostly like a drunk when I did take it. She was happy to put me back on Percocet, and that I still had about half of the Dilaudid that I never took. I was able to get off of the Dilaudid without a problem.
My face looks better, I think I have another week of antibiotics left but I see the infectious disease specialist on Tuesday. I also went back to the odd ENT for my “follow up appointment” he was able to tell me that the lump tested positive for the shingles virus (duh) staphylococcus (double duh) and Enterobacter, which means I need to be more through when washing my hands, especially if I plan to scratch my face open in my sleep.
I really have no idea why I saw him.
Well, this is a really long post, and I wasn’t sure I should post it considering I was my own thread killer before, but I thought some of you might like an update.
