So this is the new phrase Daddy taught me, and though it may sound crass, it is fitting. I've been in and out of the hospital over the past few weeks, and I'm just now starting to feel better.
It all started the Thursday evening of March 24. I surprised everyone with a fever of 102 (which is a really big fever for me) and no other symptoms. With the clinic closing at 6pm, Mommy and I had the misfortune to be sent to the ER. At 3:30am the next morning (seven hours after arriving), after being poked, waiting, being asked the same questions four times, waiting, a nasal culture, waiting, a urinalysis, waiting, being given some fluids and a 24-hour dose of IV Rocephin, and more waiting, we were released. Nobody could figure out what was wrong with me. My counts were high, all of the tests for bacterial and viral infections came up with negatives, and my fever went down with Tylenol.
No problems the next day (just really tired), but then on Saturday, Daddy had to pick me up from Nanna B. and Poppa's house to take me to the hospital. I had "popped a positive" on my urine culture, so they were going to admit me to find out what was going on. Late in the afternoon on Sunday, they released me, still not knowing definitively what was wrong. The doctors thought that maybe it was a false positive on the urine culture, though.
Tuesday, I was supposed to go in for an OR procedure early in the morning, but because of my recent fever, they decided to hold off for another month (yes, that's the second time recently it's been pushed back because of my body not cooperating). Daddy took me into the clinic in the early afternoon for my Vincristine, though, and we had a rough time. When they de-accessed my port, something happened, and I kept screaming for about 45 minutes. Daddy, the nurses, and the doctors couldn't figure it out, but then Daddy (being the smart daddy that he is) asked if they could put some Emla on me in case it was surface irritation. They had thought that some of the Vincristine might have leaked out, and that was causing the pain, but that wasn't it. Once they put the cream on, I was able to calm down. You see, I'm allergic to Tegaderm and silk tape, and though they hadn't used that, I had been taped and re-taped so often over the prior 6-7 days, that my skin felt like it was on fire. I'm so lucky to have a good, calm, and smart daddy!
I had to start my yucky medicine (steroids) that night, and from that point on, I started laying around and moaning. I didn't eat or drink much all week, and I complained of my throat hurting. I also made gulping noises following any food or drink that I ingested. Mommy got back from her trip on Thursday evening, and though I was ecstatic to see her, I still felt awful. We went to the park on Friday, and I didn't even want to play... I wanted to lay with my head on her lap.
The rest of the weekend was more of the same... little to no energy, relatively no eating or drinking, and lots of moaning. Mommy called the clinic on Monday to see if we could go to the Mason location to get labs drawn. Mommy and Daddy were still concerned that something was going on, and the steroids should have begun wearing off by then. Unfortunately, the doctors decided they needed to see me, but the clinic was full, so they wanted us to go through the ER again. Ugh! Daddy tried to fight it to no avail, so he took me down around 3pm with my bag packed. Seven hours later, we were released (yeah!). If Mommy would've taken me, I'm sure we would have spent MUCH longer there. They never did figure out what was going on, but I'm thinking my yucky medicine just hit me really hard this month. Maybe really bad heartburn or acid reflux on top of it?!
I don't know what caused that really bad week, but I'm feeling much better now! This weekend was beautiful, and I was back to normal with eating and my energy level. I've been singing and dancing, and even cracking jokes. Something I cracked on accident Sunday night, though, was my head on the door frame. I was running with flip flops on and tripped, bonking my forehead on the door frame of the bathroom. Mommy looked really surprised to see the blood dripping, and Daddy sprinted for the medical supplies (luckily we have LOTS). This was my first real "injury," and Mommy and Daddy seemed quite shaken by it. It probably didn't help that I cried for a long time, but as I told them, my head "really hurts." I also thought I was going to have to get a tubey (accessing of my port), so my bottom lip popped out and I started sobbing even harder. Once Mommy assured me that I wouldn't have to get a tubey, I calmed down a little, and the Tylenol and Band-Aid with goopy stuff began to work their calming magic.
Hopefully, my goose egg won't be too big...
I'm getting tired, so I'm signing off for now. I'll try not to wait as long to update you, and I'll post some pics (there are a few from Easter and spring in general) really soon. You should see all of my hair!!!