My Fabulous Misadventures on Asthmatics Island: Second Day

I have roommate now. She’s 68 and nice. I send up a small prayer to the hospital gods for not sending me a loud, smelly man as a roommate.

They check my vitals this morning after a night of sleep without any additional oxygen. My blood oxygen level was at 97%. Good times! The doctor said yesterday he wanted to see my levels reach 97-98% before they would consider sending me home. So, maybe I’ll be home later today. And the nurse brought me a real Coke. In my current tiny world, it can’t get much better than this. Aw yeah!

I know I spoke too soon when the nurse asks again about my bathroom habits. Have I pooped yet? No, thank you, I have not. I’ll give you an update as soon as that happens.

Isn’t there some adage about a watched pot taking too long to boil? I wonder if they’ll keep me here until I accomplish the deed.

My roommate gets to leave. I have no wifi access. It’s down yet again. I need to do some research for my story.

Joy of great joys! They’re letting me go home! There’s paperwork to do and removal of IV and whatnot and then I’m free. Tech Daddy is on his way. The LB will have his mama back.

Still waiting on Tech Daddy to get here. But it doesn’t matter. There’s still no sign of my impending release. Oh well. I work on my story and start fleshing out the outline. I’m right. This will span two chapters. Cool.

And...wait for it...I'm home!

My Fabulous Misadventures on Asthmatics Island: First Day

Breakfast: Scrambled eggs, blueberry muffin, plain oatmeal. Overall, not bad. The oatmeal grows cold while I get my chest x-rays.

Wrapped in a pale blue blanket, like a Wedgewood Jedi, I get wheeled away for chest x-rays. Obi Wan Kristoby. Behold my Jedi sword (broncho-dilation tube) and my mad Jedi mind tricks (Seriously. I’m not gonna pee in that bowl so you can measure the “output.”).

I return to my oatmeal, which now have the consistency and flavor of brains. I eat it anyway.

Tech Daddy texts me that he has dropped LB off at daycare and that he doesn’t know how I do it all in the mornings. Glad I receive some props from my husband.

I sleep. All the meds and broncho-dilation makes me shaky and weak.

I wake up feeling refreshed and pretty clear in the lungs. I wander to the nurses’ desk and ask for pen and paper. I then proceed to draft an outline of the next two chapters in my current book. I surprise even me.

Tech Daddy arrives for a visit. He tries to eat Burger King. I have chicken marsala. Salty but edible. We end up tasking naps together, tired parents to a toddler tornado. I’m glad LB is happy and healthy once again.

Later…

Nurse: Have you used the bathroom?

I nod.

Nurse: How many times?

Me: Uh, three?

The nurse nods and makes a notation on her clipboard.

Nurse: Any bowel movements?

Me: Nope.

The nurse leaves.

Tech Daddy: Worst. Survey. Ever.

A new nurse comes in and announces that the doctors want my intake and output measured. Uh, what? I will humor them a little, but at first chance I’m going to take that bowl out of the toilet and hide it behind the bowl again.

My Fabulous Misadventures on Asthmatics Island: The ER

This has got to be the best ER experience ever. We walk in, sign in and take a seat. Ten minutes later they call me back to check me in. Five minutes after that I’m escorted to an ER room.

More broncho-dilation, more meds, no improvement. They decide to admit me for overnight eval. Tech Daddy has to leave so my mom can go home from watching LB at home. I’m wheeled away a few hours later to an upstairs room.

This is the most awesome bed. It automagically inflates in response to your position. I slide in under the covers. The bed hums and inflates to cradle me in soft fluffiness. When I sit up to take my first does of meds, it hums and inflates to create a cup for me to put my butt in. Nice. My bed makes a butt cup.

Now the nurse wants to make sure I put on these hideous puke yellow socks. They have no heels and are covered on both sides by puff paint x’s. I feel that these socks epitomize the true meaning of “fugly.” They smell funny. I put them on, ripping one of the ankles. No more socks. I now realize that I should’ve shaved my legs that morning. Who knew? Lesson learned.

I don’t get to bed until 330 early Monday morning between waiting for meds and having another broncho-dilation session, which isn’t as bas as it sounds. I have to puff on a plastic bong for five minutes. Half Baked meet House.

My Fabulous Misadventure on Asthmatics Island: Prologue

LB got sick the first week in daycare. Tech Daddy and I got sick a few days later. LB got better on amoxicillin. Tech Daddy got better. I did, too, or at least I thought. LB finished his meds and was well for four days. Then he got sick again. I got sick. Tech Daddy did not. LB went on Augmentin this time. He is now better. I am not.

Saturday the 25^th I woke up feeling tight in my chest but we had a new front and back yard being put in. I decided to go to the doctor on Monday. Sunday the 26^th I woke up feeling so bad that I couldn’t get up with LB. Tech Daddy had to get up and get him fed.

We went out for brunch and by the time we got home, I was really not well. I asked Tech Daddy to drive to the urgent care clinic. That’s where they discovered my blood oxygen level was fluctuating between 90-92%. Bad. I had three broncho-dilation treatments there, a shot of steroids, and a shot of antibiotics. No improvement so they told Tech Daddy to take me to the ER. So he did.