Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Instead of makin' me better, you keep makin' me ill
So, you haven't heard from me in a while, because, I've been in the hospital.
Settle yourself in, because this is a doozy of a story.
A few weeks ago I started to have a lot of trouble running. I couldn't breathe. I chalked it up to the sudden intense increase in humidity in New York City, the new bed bug treatments our apartment was receiving, and the just the natural ebb and flow of working out. I figured it would get better and I opted to just wait it out.
The breathing trouble did not get better and in fact, started to get worse. Instead of only having trouble when I was working out, I began to notice that stairs were getting progressively more and more difficult for me. I admitted to myself that this could be a problem that wasn't going to fix itself on its own and made an appointment with my primary care physician.
After examining me for a while, she sent me to the ER. In an ambulance.
The ambulance was not really necessary, but she wanted me to receive care immediately, and arrival by ambulance is the surest way to guarantee that.
Blood tests
Chest Ex-ray
EKG
I got asked the same questions over and over again. Do you smoke? NO. Are you on the pill? Yes. Have you noticed any pain or swelling in your calves and ankles? No. I knew what they were asking me the symptoms of.
Pulmonary Embolism. Or blood clots in the lungs in layman's terms. My dad had told me that's what he thought it was 3 days earlier when I had called him crying in frustration. I got off the phone with him and Karen and I had totally poo-pooed the idea. Blood clots? No way.
Blood tests revealed it was either blood clots or an infection in my heart. Either way, I was getting admitted. A cat scan would tell us which one it was.
The winner is: a cluster of blood clots in both lungs. Substantial in size.
And around 1 am last Thursday night, I was transported to my room in NYU Medical complete with a blood thinning drip IV, an oxygen mask, and a heart rate monitor.
I have been here for 5 days now.
The first day was filled with more tests. An echo of my heart revealed that the right side is weakened from the strain of the clots. Doppler tests (similar to an ultrasound) told me that my legs were clear of clots. Then I was approached by a woman doing a research study, asking me to participate.
The study: to find out of MRIs are better for detecting blood clots than cat scans.
All that would be required of me would be to have an MRI done of my lungs and thighs. Easy, right?
Um, not so much. I am INCREDIBLY claustrophobic and MRI machines are VERY narrow and small. The first time they sent me into the machine, I had a panic attack. But then I closed my eyes, really, really tight, and went back in, and somehow made it through the next half hour. The Frank Sinatra that they piped into my headphones helped tremendously.
Since the end of all the testing, I have just been hanging around in my room all day, every day, watching TV, reading, doing crossword puzzles, and praying to go home. I have had a consistent stream of visitors that have been bright, golden rays of sunshine.
Yesterday was the day that I lost my ability to cope with my situation and cried all morning. I begged my doctor to send me home. I attempted a compromise, and he informed me that he doesn't negotiate with terrorists. He likes to have fun with me because I'm his youngest patient by 20 years. In my current state, I do not enjoy this so much.
Tomorrow, I will almost definitely go home. My blood levels are getting closer to where my doctor wants them to be. And my elevated cardiac enzymes are going down, which means that my heart is getting healthier.
All in all, there were times when this was pretty scary. And I'm never going to be able to take the birth control pill for the rest of my life.
But do I feel pretty lucky that it was caught? Damn straight.
Today's Title from: Just Like a Pill by Pink
Settle yourself in, because this is a doozy of a story.
A few weeks ago I started to have a lot of trouble running. I couldn't breathe. I chalked it up to the sudden intense increase in humidity in New York City, the new bed bug treatments our apartment was receiving, and the just the natural ebb and flow of working out. I figured it would get better and I opted to just wait it out.
The breathing trouble did not get better and in fact, started to get worse. Instead of only having trouble when I was working out, I began to notice that stairs were getting progressively more and more difficult for me. I admitted to myself that this could be a problem that wasn't going to fix itself on its own and made an appointment with my primary care physician.
After examining me for a while, she sent me to the ER. In an ambulance.
The ambulance was not really necessary, but she wanted me to receive care immediately, and arrival by ambulance is the surest way to guarantee that.
Blood tests
Chest Ex-ray
EKG
I got asked the same questions over and over again. Do you smoke? NO. Are you on the pill? Yes. Have you noticed any pain or swelling in your calves and ankles? No. I knew what they were asking me the symptoms of.
Pulmonary Embolism. Or blood clots in the lungs in layman's terms. My dad had told me that's what he thought it was 3 days earlier when I had called him crying in frustration. I got off the phone with him and Karen and I had totally poo-pooed the idea. Blood clots? No way.
Blood tests revealed it was either blood clots or an infection in my heart. Either way, I was getting admitted. A cat scan would tell us which one it was.
The winner is: a cluster of blood clots in both lungs. Substantial in size.
And around 1 am last Thursday night, I was transported to my room in NYU Medical complete with a blood thinning drip IV, an oxygen mask, and a heart rate monitor.
I have been here for 5 days now.
The first day was filled with more tests. An echo of my heart revealed that the right side is weakened from the strain of the clots. Doppler tests (similar to an ultrasound) told me that my legs were clear of clots. Then I was approached by a woman doing a research study, asking me to participate.
The study: to find out of MRIs are better for detecting blood clots than cat scans.
All that would be required of me would be to have an MRI done of my lungs and thighs. Easy, right?
Um, not so much. I am INCREDIBLY claustrophobic and MRI machines are VERY narrow and small. The first time they sent me into the machine, I had a panic attack. But then I closed my eyes, really, really tight, and went back in, and somehow made it through the next half hour. The Frank Sinatra that they piped into my headphones helped tremendously.
Since the end of all the testing, I have just been hanging around in my room all day, every day, watching TV, reading, doing crossword puzzles, and praying to go home. I have had a consistent stream of visitors that have been bright, golden rays of sunshine.
Yesterday was the day that I lost my ability to cope with my situation and cried all morning. I begged my doctor to send me home. I attempted a compromise, and he informed me that he doesn't negotiate with terrorists. He likes to have fun with me because I'm his youngest patient by 20 years. In my current state, I do not enjoy this so much.
Tomorrow, I will almost definitely go home. My blood levels are getting closer to where my doctor wants them to be. And my elevated cardiac enzymes are going down, which means that my heart is getting healthier.
All in all, there were times when this was pretty scary. And I'm never going to be able to take the birth control pill for the rest of my life.
But do I feel pretty lucky that it was caught? Damn straight.
Today's Title from: Just Like a Pill by Pink
Posted by Chloe
at 11:16 AM |
Permalink to Instead of makin' me better, you keep makin' me ill |
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