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Jul. 21st, 2007 10:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stonebenderAs you may have read elsewhere I had an interesting day yesterday. I started out the day feeling better than I had all week. loracs made me eggs cheese and toast for breakfast. She went to work. I spent a few hours by myself and then serenejournal dropped by to give me some of my afternoon meds. I felt pretty good by the time she left. I had plans to go to bed as soon as loracs got home. Sleep for 14 or 15 hours (it was the first time I felt like I'd be able to do that) and wake up to hang out with serenejournal for our Saturday. A couple of hours after she left I started coughing. It was the expectorant I've been taking which hadn't really been working for me. I would cough and cough but nothing came up. So it seemed like it was doing what it has always done except this time after a while I got really short of breath. Now I have been shallow breathing all week (even for me, whose disability has caused a certain lessening of my lungs strength). However I couldn't even get my normal shallow breath all I could do was concentrate on getting air into me.
Normally, a person would call an ambulance about then but in order for me to use the phone I needed my mouth-stick (Which is basically a 7 inch wooden dowel with electrical tape on the end that I put in my mouth and a finger cot taped to the other end.) to push the buttons. I dropped it pretty much at the moment I thought, "maybe I should dial 911?" I wasn't particularly paniced by this development. Which is a stranger part of this whole adventure. I was still getting air. it wasn't going to be that long beforeloracs would be home. So I waited.
Then it occurred to me that I could IMserenejournal or dbubley and they could call 911. So I tried that. Unfortunately, neither seemed to be online. So I waited and tried to get air in my lungs. I still wasn't panicky. After about 20 minutes dbubley responded and I told her "Having trouble breathing, call Carol". I know, I should've had her call 911, but I still wasn't really scared. We found out Carol was close to home. So, dbubley came up to the front house to wait with me. She asked about 911. I said I wasn't sure I wanted to call yet. By the time loracs got to the study. I had decided to go ahead and call. It occurred to me that I barely had it willthe energy to drive my wheelchair to the front room. I didn't think there was any way I could drive all the way to the car and up the ramp. So 911 was called.
It may shock people to know that I have never ridden in an ambulance. The EMTs arrived promptly asked lots of questions and then I suddenly found myself all weepy. I don't know where that came from a didn't feel particularly sad, or scared or angry. Even though I couldn't get a good breath I was still getting air in my lungs and that seemed enough. Anyway, with a little help from my handy transfer lift they got me on the gurney, on oxygen, sitting up straight as I ever get.
I found myself flirting with my EMT on the way to the hospital. She was definitely worth flirting with, but that's usually not my game folks. I'm the quiet shy type. I don't really flirt. I don't really know how. Yet somehow I was cracking jokes trying to make her laugh.
She started looking at my arm in the way that people do when they're looking to put a needle in you. I told her I was a very hard stick and a big baby about needles. She said that the hospital would certainly install one, but she stopped looking. They asked me what hospital I wanted to go to, my regular doctor works out of a clinic and has hospital privileges at Alta Bates in Berkeley. They were willing to take me there, but one of the EMTs recommended Eden Medical Center in Castro Valley. I reaslly wanted to get somewhere soon. So I chose the closer recommended hospital.
I anticipated a long wait even in the emergency room, but they were working on me at the moment I arrived. The only odd glitch was when the receptionist asked me, "what will we be using for your home address?" Which made me want a reply, "Why don't we use my home address?" Perhaps she was trying to be creative. Anyway, she wanted my home address which I gave her right after my smart as reply. Blame it on lack of oxygen.
Saw Dr. Meeks maybe 10 minutes in the door. Followed by the phlebotomist on his heels. She was a very cute I'm guessing anywhere from 30 to 40 year old woman who looked Goth without without the gear. I gave her my standard, I'm a hard stick and I'm a big baby about needles. She smiled and said, Well, I can handle a hard stick but not a big baby." Then she took her time and got blood out of me first try. Relatively painless and no drama. It was the single best blood draw of my life.
It turns out I didn't have pneumonia. I have a wicked case of bronchitis and it somehow brought on an asthma attack. Now I had asthma as a child, but I hadn't had an attack since I was 13. The first breathing treatment that relieved a lot of my fear. I wasn't exactly breathing normally, but I was back to a level that seemed livable. My blood ox numbers were dancing around 94 and he wanted them closer to 96 before he would send me home. So he gave me a second breathing treatment. This one for an hour rather than 15 minutes. I guess my numbers still didn't go up enough so he came back to tell me they were going to keep me there overnight.
I wanted to know what they would do for me their and he said he could give me more breathing treatments and oxygen would be available etc. I don't like hospitals. I would stay there if I had to, but there is a funny thing about hospitals. They are almost universally the most inaccessible places. Now you would think a hospital would be the most accessible, but it doesn't work that way. I'm also pretty severely disabled. The last time I had to stay in a hospital I couldn't get anything to work. Nurse call button I couldn't push. Television remote I couldn't use. I was very powerless there.
Dr. Meek asked me what the problem was and I told him I preferred to go home, if I could. He thought about it a while and offered me some prednisone. Then he observed me for a little while longer and came back saying I could go home I needed to finish up the prednisone and call my doctor on Monday. After the second breathing treatment and the prednisone I felt better than I had all week. Even better than before the bronchitis-asthma attack.
So about five hours after leaving home I was back in my house. The longest I waited for was the transport team to get me into my wheelchair and a tutorial on my inhaler. I'd been provided one on Wednesday but without a plastic tube they put on it to allow the medicine to become airborne before you attempt to breathe it in. I'd been told to use a toilet paper roll cut into a 2 inch section. When I told that to my nurse Tony (who I have forgotten to mention. He was just great walked in to my room with blue scrubs that had X-Men characters all over the top. I saw them and told him he could stay! :-) Tony shook his head disgustedly. That won't work! You're gettibg the medicine all over your tongue, right?
They discharge me with the tube, another inhaler (because we couldn't remember if the EMTs had grabbed my meds or not) and a prescription for the prednisone. I'm still working on getting healthy. I'm breathing better but not all right. Sleeping in bed is still problematic. I've been staying in my chair mostly with short attempts at naps. I can only manage bout an hour and every time I've tried to get out of bed much worse than I was for an hour or two. Somehow the fluid in my lungs just won't amount and starts blocking things so I can't breathe.
I've said this so many times to my partners that they just roll their eyes. Because every time I said it, I go through a bad spell, but I still think and getting better, slowly, slowly, slowly ever so slowly.
loracs made me eggs cheese and toast for breakfast. She went to work. I spent a few hours by myself and then serenejournal dropped by to give me some of my afternoon meds. I felt pretty good by the time she left. I had plans to go to bed as soon as loracs got home. Sleep for 14 or 15 hours (it was the first time I felt like I'd be able to do that) and wake up to hang out with serenejournal for our Saturday. A couple of hours after she left I started coughing. It was the expectorant I've been taking which hadn't really been working for me. I would cough and cough but nothing came up. So it seemed like it was doing what it has always done except this time after a while I got really short of breath. Now I have been shallow breathing all week (even for me, whose disability has caused a certain lessening of my lungs strength). However I couldn't even get my normal shallow breath all I could do was concentrate on getting air into me.Normally, a person would call an ambulance about then but in order for me to use the phone I needed my mouth-stick (Which is basically a 7 inch wooden dowel with electrical tape on the end that I put in my mouth and a finger cot taped to the other end.) to push the buttons. I dropped it pretty much at the moment I thought, "maybe I should dial 911?" I wasn't particularly paniced by this development. Which is a stranger part of this whole adventure. I was still getting air. it wasn't going to be that long before
loracs would be home. So I waited.Then it occurred to me that I could IM
serenejournal or dbubley and they could call 911. So I tried that. Unfortunately, neither seemed to be online. So I waited and tried to get air in my lungs. I still wasn't panicky. After about 20 minutes dbubley responded and I told her "Having trouble breathing, call Carol". I know, I should've had her call 911, but I still wasn't really scared. We found out Carol was close to home. So, dbubley came up to the front house to wait with me. She asked about 911. I said I wasn't sure I wanted to call yet. By the time loracs got to the study. I had decided to go ahead and call. It occurred to me that I barely had it willthe energy to drive my wheelchair to the front room. I didn't think there was any way I could drive all the way to the car and up the ramp. So 911 was called.It may shock people to know that I have never ridden in an ambulance. The EMTs arrived promptly asked lots of questions and then I suddenly found myself all weepy. I don't know where that came from a didn't feel particularly sad, or scared or angry. Even though I couldn't get a good breath I was still getting air in my lungs and that seemed enough. Anyway, with a little help from my handy transfer lift they got me on the gurney, on oxygen, sitting up straight as I ever get.
I found myself flirting with my EMT on the way to the hospital. She was definitely worth flirting with, but that's usually not my game folks. I'm the quiet shy type. I don't really flirt. I don't really know how. Yet somehow I was cracking jokes trying to make her laugh.
She started looking at my arm in the way that people do when they're looking to put a needle in you. I told her I was a very hard stick and a big baby about needles. She said that the hospital would certainly install one, but she stopped looking. They asked me what hospital I wanted to go to, my regular doctor works out of a clinic and has hospital privileges at Alta Bates in Berkeley. They were willing to take me there, but one of the EMTs recommended Eden Medical Center in Castro Valley. I reaslly wanted to get somewhere soon. So I chose the closer recommended hospital.
I anticipated a long wait even in the emergency room, but they were working on me at the moment I arrived. The only odd glitch was when the receptionist asked me, "what will we be using for your home address?" Which made me want a reply, "Why don't we use my home address?" Perhaps she was trying to be creative. Anyway, she wanted my home address which I gave her right after my smart as reply. Blame it on lack of oxygen.
Saw Dr. Meeks maybe 10 minutes in the door. Followed by the phlebotomist on his heels. She was a very cute I'm guessing anywhere from 30 to 40 year old woman who looked Goth without without the gear. I gave her my standard, I'm a hard stick and I'm a big baby about needles. She smiled and said, Well, I can handle a hard stick but not a big baby." Then she took her time and got blood out of me first try. Relatively painless and no drama. It was the single best blood draw of my life.
It turns out I didn't have pneumonia. I have a wicked case of bronchitis and it somehow brought on an asthma attack. Now I had asthma as a child, but I hadn't had an attack since I was 13. The first breathing treatment that relieved a lot of my fear. I wasn't exactly breathing normally, but I was back to a level that seemed livable. My blood ox numbers were dancing around 94 and he wanted them closer to 96 before he would send me home. So he gave me a second breathing treatment. This one for an hour rather than 15 minutes. I guess my numbers still didn't go up enough so he came back to tell me they were going to keep me there overnight.
I wanted to know what they would do for me their and he said he could give me more breathing treatments and oxygen would be available etc. I don't like hospitals. I would stay there if I had to, but there is a funny thing about hospitals. They are almost universally the most inaccessible places. Now you would think a hospital would be the most accessible, but it doesn't work that way. I'm also pretty severely disabled. The last time I had to stay in a hospital I couldn't get anything to work. Nurse call button I couldn't push. Television remote I couldn't use. I was very powerless there.
Dr. Meek asked me what the problem was and I told him I preferred to go home, if I could. He thought about it a while and offered me some prednisone. Then he observed me for a little while longer and came back saying I could go home I needed to finish up the prednisone and call my doctor on Monday. After the second breathing treatment and the prednisone I felt better than I had all week. Even better than before the bronchitis-asthma attack.
So about five hours after leaving home I was back in my house. The longest I waited for was the transport team to get me into my wheelchair and a tutorial on my inhaler. I'd been provided one on Wednesday but without a plastic tube they put on it to allow the medicine to become airborne before you attempt to breathe it in. I'd been told to use a toilet paper roll cut into a 2 inch section. When I told that to my nurse Tony (who I have forgotten to mention. He was just great walked in to my room with blue scrubs that had X-Men characters all over the top. I saw them and told him he could stay! :-) Tony shook his head disgustedly. That won't work! You're gettibg the medicine all over your tongue, right?
They discharge me with the tube, another inhaler (because we couldn't remember if the EMTs had grabbed my meds or not) and a prescription for the prednisone. I'm still working on getting healthy. I'm breathing better but not all right. Sleeping in bed is still problematic. I've been staying in my chair mostly with short attempts at naps. I can only manage bout an hour and every time I've tried to get out of bed much worse than I was for an hour or two. Somehow the fluid in my lungs just won't amount and starts blocking things so I can't breathe.
I've said this so many times to my partners that they just roll their eyes. Because every time I said it, I go through a bad spell, but I still think and getting better, slowly, slowly, slowly ever so slowly.