Slowly coming back to the living

The Urinary Tract Infection came on very stealthily.  My husband and I were having dinner on a Saturday night, and all of a sudden I couldn't put another forkful into my mouth.  I felt simply "odd" and went off my feed.  Those of you who know me understand the significance of that statement.  On Sunday I developed some vague aches and chills (full-blown shivering on a warm July day), and then nausea.  I couldn't keep down anything--including the over-the-counter remedies. The headache set in Sunday night and had an unrelenting grip.  I couldn't read, eat, drink, sleep, concentrate...nothing!  It was absolute misery.  All of that contributed to severe dehydration, and dehydration necessitated hospitalization.

In the throes of the headache/fever/nausea misery, I had myriad thoughts ranging from dread (is it a brain tumor?) to positive self-talk (sleep is curative, go to sleep).  The headache was just so intense.  I found myself feeling grateful I'd never experienced anything like it before, and so empathetic with those for whom such pain is chronic.

Those of you who've read my blog know that I am a student of the Holocaust.  I've been reading so many Holocaust-themed books this year, that I was very mindful of what a luxury it was to be sick in my own home, under the loving and supportive care of my husband, with easy access to treatment and care.  Heck...having a sanitary toilet a mere 15 feet from my bed seemed like an undeniable privilege. 

I guess it's an understatement to say it was a very rough week indeed.  I'm home again after three days in the hospital.  While there, I felt as though I was living an episode of "House"--a different diagnosis for every day.  Every doctor had a different interpretation.  The doctor started with a series of screening questions:

• Did it hurt to urinate?  (no)  
• Did my urine smell different?  (no)  
• Was I coughing a lot?  (not really--throat clearing coughing at most).  
• Did I have abdominal pain?  (no) 

The doctor was almost literally scratching his head.  "Well," he said, "we need to figure out what's causing the fever."

We started with a suspicion that my illness might have been a tick-fever, anaplasmosis to be specific.  That made sense to me as I live in a tick-infested place and haven't been particularly (ahem, at all) diligent about clearing out the long-growth in the backyard.   I'd also been berry-picking recently and thought perhaps I'd picked up a tick bite there.  Finally, it occurred to me that my Holocaust Education trip to Eastern Europe to clean neglected Jewish cemeteries might have been where I'd picked up an unknown tick.  The medical staff were all impressed and intrigued by the fact that I had been in Poland.  They acted as though this was very exotic.  They ran the tick screen on Tuesday and sent me home (after hanging three bags of fluids--I was seriously dehydrated) with a prescription for Doxycycline.  The tick screen consisted of samples sent to the Mayo in Rochester, as well as blood work analyzed locally.

On Wednesday they called to say the blood tests were contradictory and they needed to do more blood work.  I went back to the ER and they decided to admit me.  I had a chest x-ray and had to give the usual samples.  They started more fluids (I think they hung 12 - 15 bags (maybe even more) by the time I left the hospital), and the hospitalist told me I had pneumonia.  That was a serious shock.  I've NEVER been prone to pneumonia.  He said it was a "small" pneumonia below the lower lobe of my right lung. I had never thought about pneumonia in terms of size or units. 

I had an absolutely wretched night, spiking a fever of 102.2 and a blood pressure of 168/84.  The next morning the hospitalist said, "you're failing and we need to do more tests.  You're presenting as though you have viral meningitis.  I'm ordering a lumbar puncture."  I was terrified by the idea of a spinal tap--I'd heard about the spinal headaches (the trick is remaining absolutely still on your back for at least an hour after the test), but it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. 

I started feeling better Thursday afternoon, and my night nurse brought me the news that my urine sample was very cloudy.   He said, "it's very common for a woman your age to experience UTIs.  People sometimes experience 'sundowners' syndrome." Uh...NO!  I do NOT have Sundowners. Charming as that was, it turns out, he was right about part of it.  In spite of having NONE of the symptoms, I do have a Urinary Tract Infection. 

Fun times.


Thursday night was miserable for another reason.  I. JUST. COULDN'T. SLEEP.  The doctor had ordered Ambien if I requested it.  Always reluctant to take anything I don't need to take, I refused.  Next time, I'm not going to be so stupid.

The next day the doc came in to tell me the glorious news that I could be released.  She recommended I take Kefir twice a day while I'm on the new antibiotic, and then take it daily for...the rest of my life.  The nurse was right--women my age need to be particularly mindful of the prospect for UTIs.

It's been a wild ride.

I have been so blessed to be under the watchful care of my loving and supportive husband.  He's been an absolute prince through this whole ordeal.  My dear friend Cindy took on the task of conveying news of my illness to friends on Facebook.  She visited not once or twice, but three times!  AND, she brought me my own dog, Pickles (she could have used the name for her pup, but nooooo).

My friends Sue and Al came for a surprise visit and sent beautiful flowers on behalf of the College of Liberal Arts.

And my friend Vicki brought me beautiful blooms from her garden,

drove me home when I was discharged, and bought me my first quart of Kefir.  My Minnesota kids came up from the Cities and made dinner Friday night, and breakfast Saturday and Sunday morning.   They'd had other plans, but made a point to be with me while I was feeling so poorly.

Blooms from the Farmers' Market.

Sam--representing the P-Ps at our friend's wedding (so sorry to have missed it).

Peach Curd Pie with Basil Whipped Cream, garnished with Nasturtiums-made by Nina Graham (with copious assistance from her brother Samuel Petersen-Perlman)

I'm one lucky broad.