I woke up April 3rd feeling crummy. For the past few days I had hardly left my room. I have been incredibly nauseous, and my pain has me seeing black spots. I went out to the kitchen and got myself some breakfast. I then sat on my couch and caught up on the season finale of Good Trouble. It's on Hulu check it out. I was just about done with my breakfast and I felt pain increasing on my left side. I carefully got up and took my dish into the kitchen. As I walked back, I doubled over in pain reaching for anything to hold me up. I fell to the floor crying in pain and soaked in sweat in a matter of minutes. I managed to get enough strength to get up to my knees. I knew I had to get to my phone. With every movement I wailed in pain, crying out to God begging for it to stop. After what seemed like forever, I finally got to my phone. I didn’t want to alarm Matt, but I knew I needed help. I simply text him saying I'm not okay. Then I don’t remember who called who, but he asked if I needed an ambulance and I cried out yes.
I gathered all the meds that I had taken that morning and lined them up the best I could so the EMTS would know what I took. We also have a book we document times I take meds and all my medical information, I made sure that page was open.
The paramedics came in and helped me up off the floor, as they lifted me, I felt this sharp pain that dropped me again. They eventually got me on the couch to take my vitals. I have had the paramedics at my house 3 or 4 times and I always recognize them, and it makes me feel more comfortable. This time I didn’t recognize any of them. However, there was one that was by myside for most of the time and he resembled a family friend. One that works closely with my husband. That made me feel more at ease.
It was what seemed to be an hour-long drive before we reached the hospital. (By the way it's really a 5 min drive) When I arrived the were no beds, so they placed me in the hallway. I was still crying in pain and asking if my husband was there. Soon I felt a touch on my arm and Matt’s voice saying, “it's okay I’m right here”.
A little while later we were in a room, next I see my oldest and my sister come in. Having my family there is very important to me. It makes me feel safe, every time I receive a hug from them, they hug me tighter than normal. It’s a warming feeling, even in the mist of the pain.
After hours of pain and nausea meds we were told the hospital we were at would not transfer us to UCSF because they won’t do anymore ERCPs due to the risk, but that they would admit me. I said no I wanted to go home. If I’m going to be medicated, I’d rather do it in the comfort of my own home, in my bed, with my family.
Today is April 5th and I continue to have pain and nausea. Some attacks are worse than others, and other times I wish I had stayed at the hospital. Matt has stayed home to keep an eye on me till this attack has past.
I was thinking earlier about how unfair this is, yeah, I know life’s not fair, but it’s really not. I am not a perfect person, I’m not proud of somethings I’ve done in my 33 years, but I’ve had enough. I’ve been beaten, left, abused, hated, lost, and now to feel like a hostage for the past two years. It’s just not fair. I have a beautiful family, and once had a beautiful life. I want that back. I want to go wine tasting with my sister, even though I don’t drink. I want to go to science night and the park with my little one. I want to go out shopping with my oldest like I use to. And I want to go out and love my husband like I use to.
Even though I know my surgery is close I still have a hard time finding hope. My husband lifts me up when he can, but the solitude is so frequent the depression seems to win every time. I don’t write things like this for you all to feel sorry for me. I don’t want that. I feel different enough, I don’t need my friends and family treating me any differently. I only share how I feel to expose how real this disease is and how it impacts my life daily.
Today I plan on doing some party shopping for the little one’s birthday party next week. Yes, we just had a birthday party for my oldest. I’m whooped!