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1 year ago
So, I’ve been sick.
Really, really sick.
About three weeks ago, my allergies kicked in full-force, and even though I was on Zyrtec, I was still struggling with post-nasal drip and the nausea that attends it.
The nausea lasted all day and was so strong that I couldn’t eat. I didn’t even want to THINK about eating; just the smell of food turned me into a slobbering, toilet-hugging mess.
During the first week, I was still taking my depression meds, but was throwing them up. I stopped taking them the second week because they just made the nausea worse. For the second week I curled up in a ball on my bed and cried about it nearly constantly, thinking there was nothing I could do to make it better and that I just had to stick it out. It was awful; Shawn had to fend for himself, there was no heated food in the same room as I was and I was constantly calling for him just to hear his voice for comfort.
Finally on Tuesday of last week, I was such a mess and such a danger to myself, that I made an appointment at the doctor’s office. They ushered my shaking, crying, shivering self into a room right away because I requested somewhere to throw up away from the waiting room.
When the nurse, a woman I’ve known all my life, came in and said, “Oh, hi Miss Lauren!” I started bawling. I was so fragile that her warm greeting was all it took to send me into heaving sobs.
Eventually the doctor came in and checked me out; I had bronchitis, an outer ear infection, and gastritis. Basically bacteria that normally would have been filtered out by my sinuses and then battled down by my immune system had taken over my whole body because it was so weak.
They gave me a shot of promethazine and a shot of some kind of benzodiazepine right there in the office. He told me that it would take WEEKS for my digestive system to right itself because there was literally nothing in my intestines but bile, which was eating itself through the linings of both my large and small intestines and of course, my stomach.
The doctor also told me that he would have sent me to the hospital if I’d waited much longer; my electrolyte levels we so low that I should have been routinely passing out, but that because I am a large person, I had the benefit of a ‘cushion’.
He sent me home with five prescriptions, three antibiotics, an order of promethazine and a stronger benzo than Klonopin to get me through the couple of days I’d need until my medicine would start working again.
I’m still REALLY sick. I’m still REALLY struggling to eat and keep things in my stomach. My meds are working, but they aren’t quite all the way there, but I no longer have any desire to a) sign myself in to the psych ward or b) hurt myself or others, and those are obviously important things.
The next month or so will be a struggle to get and keep food in my stomach and digestive system, I’ve had to force a few things down. I haven’t cooked in as long as I’ve been sick, but tonight I’m making poor Shawn spaghetti. He deserves a lobster and steak dinner for his fortitude the last few weeks, but I don’t think I could handle smelling a cooking lobster right now!
Shawn never got sick. He usually doesn’t, but this time I am ridiculously grateful, because he has been my rock. Every time I call for him, he responds or comes or brings whatever it is I’m asking for.
Shawn deserves a medal.
Notes
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My name is Lauren.
You can find more of me here:
brokengrandma.deviantart.com
facebook.com/brokengrandma
twitter.com/brokengrandma
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