Three Dog Nights | Battling Bertha 22 | #BlogBoost

As I settled onto the bed to type this, I glanced at my nightstand and marveled at the number of prescription bottles.  I am a fan of allowing my immune system to work its’ magic and expel all foreign bodies.  Pills, not so much.

Muffy strikes a pose.

Muffy strikes a pose.

Right now there are 10 prescription bottles on my nightstand!!  To me, this is surreal.  It’s like I’m living someone else’s life.

  • steroids
  • three different antibiotics
  • two different anti-nausea drugs
  • proton-inhibitor for acid reflux
  • and two, count them, two different narcotics

This doesn’t include the supplements and over the counter drugs.  I just shake my head and wonder.  Someone is making a ton of money off of me!!

That’s not why I am typing this post.  Sheesh.  Squirrel.

Three Dog Nights

Last week I ended up spending three dog nights in the hospital.  Here’s how that played out:

Hospital Selfie

Hospital Selfie

Tuesday, I was at our monthly SendOutCards business opportunity meeting and my shoulder and neck began to hurt.  I went to my daily radiation therapy appointment and the pain persisted.  It felt a little like heartburn in my shoulder.  I kinda sorta thought it was acid reflux even though  I take a proton-inhibitor for the acid reflux.  I talked to my radiation oncologist after the “therapy’ session and she suggested taking some antacids.

Wednesday, I woke up in pain from head to toe and the skin around my port was swollen and tender.  My husband took me to my radiation oncologist.  She took one look at my port and said:  “You need to be in the hospital.”

We went to the ER where I was fast tracked to a room, hooked up to an IV and X-rayed.  Oh, and multiple blood cultures were taken.  I was admitted 2 hours later.

Thursday morning I awoke with edema in my left hand.  The nurses could not take blood samples and so my IV antibiotic was changed to one that did not require daily labs.

The doctors then began to visit, one by one:  infectious disease, radiology, internal medicine.  The consensus was the port needed to come out.  One hour after the decision was made, I was on the table and the radiologist and I shared “Asian F” anecdotes as he removed the port and sutured the opening.  Turns out my port had moved substantially since it was inserted.

A few fabulous friends dropped by to visit.

The nurse gave me morphine before I went to bed.

Friday morning I awoke with a morphine hangover and hurled moments after my nurse gave me a barf bag.  It was comical.  Of course, my husband walked into the room AFTER all the excitement.

Friday was a tough day made brighter by visits from some more fabulous friends.

Saturday the final blood cultures came back negative and I was given the all clear to go home with a 14-day supply of Bactrim.

We have no clue what caused the infection.  That’s a little frustrating.  I am feeling much better.  That’s a good thing.

Bactrim has some interesting side effects like diarrhea and nausea.  Good times.  Good times.

All is well.

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