Tuesday, August 16, 2016

Not That Kind of Date



All I wanted was to surprise my husband with a quick movie date on a Sunday evening. 

What I wasn't expecting was to feel like I'd been run over by a house, and therefore find myself calling him to come home from work early as I figured out whether or not I needed to go to the Emergency Department.

Now, one would think that feeling like you've been run over by a house would automatically and immediately qualify you for a trip to the ER, but apparently my brain doesn't work that way. My brain decided that if I just laid down and rested for a while things would improve. Then laying down became excruciating. Sitting was worse. Standing was near impossible, and by the time my amazing husband was whisking me away to the hospital, I could barely walk.


Nurses and doctors ask a lot of questions. After going through my thought process ... most likely a UTI, but may also be kidney stones, and please check my liver as well, and a psoriatic arthritis flare to top it all off and make the pain a 5,436,723,027 on a scale of 1-10...they did a ton of bloodwork and other tests (no, I'm not pregnant) and hooked me up to IV fluids. Then they asked me if I'd ever had morphine. After the morphine and anti nausea drugs (did I mention I hadn't kept anything down all day?) were on board, I was still not feeling better. Morphine barely took the razor sharp edge off of the pain. They diagnosed me with a complex UTI, gave me three prescriptions, and sent me on my way.

I learned soon after arriving home that I don't get along well with oxycodone. It makes me super paranoid about ridiculous things and keeps me up most of the night obsessing and having near panic attacks over said things. Making things worse, not even the morphine oxycodone combo made the pain bearable enough to sleep. Finally exhaustion took over and I slept a bit.

The next day, I learned the the anti-nausea drug had the exact opposite effect than it was supposed to.

A little over a week later, the UTI is under control, my psoriatic arthritis is most definitely not. But that will come in time.

I've realized that this sort of thing happens around once a year. Somehow, some way, my pain gets out of control and I land in the ER. I'm thankful it's not more often than that. The thing is, with autoimmune liver disease, taking pain meds can be dangerous. My doctors cannot prescribe enough pain meds to adequately treat my pain, because if they did, it would put my liver at risk. Finding a balance is difficult, but essential. 

So, after a week spent mostly in bed, I'm getting back on my feet again, slowly, but surely. 

Eventually I may even get to go on that movie date with my husband...


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