Know the Signs - just in case part #1
How the Queen found her King

Know the signs-just in case part 2

I lay on the gurney alone thinking about whether I had done the right thing - by coming there.  The ct-scan was fine, but the doctors wanted to perform additional tests.  I turned my head around and looked at the monitor, which keep beeping from time to time.  My pulse was around 47 and my blood pressure was 96/57.  Low, but normal for me.  I figured that was good, because if something was truly wrong the numbers would be significantly higher.  I flipped through my iPhone playing one game of sudoku after the next waiting for something to happen until finally the doctor - the short one - came into the room.

Doctor: You wanted to see me?

Me: Yes, I wanted to know when I can go home.

Doctor: Well, we still need to run a few tests, so you are going to stay the night.

Me: Well, I do not really want to stay the night.  Plus, I have my groceries in my car.

Doctor: Well, it would actually be considered a danger if you went home since we still do not know what happened to you. 

Me: Well, can't I just come back tomorrow?  I would really like to go home.

Doctor: I really think that you need to stop worrying about your groceries and focus on your health.

OK, now if she had offered to go and get my groceries that I had purchased at Whole Foods earlier that day and that were presently sitting in my car in the late July sweltering heat, that would have been one thing, but that was not an option.  So I really did not have too many choices in front of me.

Me: Um, ok, so what is the room situation?

Doctor: Well, that is what we are waiting for, ok? (and then she showed me a big smile as if she knew something that I did not know). Oh, and we are going to give you some ativan once you get to your room.

Clearly, they did not want me to talk any more and were convinced the medicine would take care of that. I really have nothing to do but wait, and shortly there after the nurse came in to tell me that my room was ready.  He announced it almost as if I was in a hotel, which of course I was clearly not!

On my way up to my room I texted Kerry, on of our best friends, and she offered to come by and visit and bring a phone charger and a sweatshirt to wear.

I got to the room, and navigated my way off the gurney with my IV in my right arm, and my computer bag over my left shoulder.  I carefully walked into the room and past an elderly woman who looked me over as I walked towards my bed, which was located by the window.  The woman looked at me as if I was intruding and I did not belong.  I felt like telling her I could not have not agreed more, but instead offered her a slight smile and walked to my bed.

An orderly started to take my vitals - and this included my weight.  Seriously?  It was about 8:30pm, I was having a really shitty night, and she seriously wanted my weight?  Unfortunately for me there was no getting out of this one as the bed actually contained a scale.  Like or not this WAS going to happen.  After those unpleasantries, I asked her for some scrub bottoms to put on, and then went to change (I was still in my work pants).  And that was it. When I emerged from the bathroom I just stood there and looked around.  I was alone and in the hospital for no apparent reason.  The bed was as flat as a board - there was only 1 pillow and one of those moisture resistant pads on the bed for unmentionable problems.  The bed was too close to the woman's part of the room - even though the curtain was closed.  I started to move the bed - one inch at a time pushing all of my weight into my legs. There I was - in my hospital fashion wear, with an IV drip, moving around the room.  Lovely.  However, I needed to do something to keep me busy while I just waited, and waited.  I put the bed into a place that gave me some sense of satisfaction.  Then I did some more waited, and while I did I lost it.  The tears started to roll down my cheeks, and I seriously contemplated leaving.  I took the moisture pad that lay on the bed and through it across the room since it represented everything to me that I was not - sick, unhealthy, and not well.  My IV line kept getting tangled and due to its position, I could not comfortably bend my arm.  I called the nurses and asked for my IV to be moved to my hand.  More waiting.

As I lay there with mascara unevenly streaked around my eyes, Kerry walked in, and for the first time in several hours I felt a sense of relief.  Not only did only she bring a charger for my phone and a sweatshirt, but she also had a box of Belgian chocolates, which inevitably put a smile on my face.  She helped find out where my medicine was (by this point I decided I wanted to go ahead and get the ativan right away).  After another call for the IV change and an inquiry for my medicine, the IV nurse came in to relieve the pain in my mid-arm only to instill some pain into my hand.  A mere several minutes later, the nurse came in with my medicine and I quickly took it all anticipating the ativan to take effect.  Kerry sat back and watched, waited, and after about an hour of keeping me company saw that the ativan was taking effect.  She graciously left me to drift into some kind of sleep.

Voice: Lily, Lily, wake up.

Me: Wha...? Is it time for my MRI?

Voice: No, it's me, wake up.

I opened my eyes and Jarrett's face was right in front of mine.  Jarrett - one of our best friends had managed to talk his way past hospital security after midnight and woke me up from my ativan-induced sleep.  At that moment it hit me that Hector and I are two of the luckiest people ever. Between Kerry and Jarrett (and so many other people) we have incredible friends, and having good friends makes all the difference.  For about 40 minutes Jarrett paced the room, ensured that my car would not be towed from emergency parking, suggested that the overhang outside the window be used for overflow beds, and reassured Hector via multiple text messages (since he was away in D.C. for a conference) that I was fine.  Jarrett also witnesssed the moment that the nurse gave me an additional dose of ativan via IV.  Now this was new to me - something I had never had before.  Apparently the doctor had decided this would be a good idea prior to the MRI, which was finally ready around 1:00am. 

As I got up to walk to the MRI, I kept my computer bag by my side.  The ativan had a mind-numbing affect, and little bothered me at this point.  Jarrett followed behind, in line with the gurney, until I got to the MRI.  We said our goodbyes and then the testing began.  The knocking from the magnets were louder than normal, but this was not like the 10 or so other MRIs that I have had.  The ativan started to take its full affect, and as they explained the MRI to me, and I nodded in agreement informing them I had undergone almost a dozen of these tests, my legs started to bother me.  Restless leg syndrome is the only side affect I have following my stroke, but it came on in such full force while I lay there during the test that I could not stay still.  I kept shaking my legs - one after the next in an attempt to dull the aching and restlessness  that took over.  Through the intercom the doctors repeated several times to stop moving.  Impossible.  I could not stop my legs.  I started to hallucinate.  Orange fuzzy-like things were all over my legs and I kept trying to shake them off, on after the next.  I could not even remember where I was and I felt as if I was drifting in and out of consciousness.  Shaking, one leg at a time.  The orange fuzzies would shake off and then jump right back on.

Me: I need more ativan.

Them: You need to stop moving.

Me: I can't.  My legs.  I can't stop them.

Them: You need to stop for 10-20 more minutes.  We are not done.

Me: I can't...

Tears, again, started coming down my face.  I wanted it over.  I wanted to go back to my room.  And before I could go through another series of shaking my legs, it all stopped.  The banging was over, I came out of the machine, and the test was done.  My computer bag was handed back to me, and we started to go back to my room.  I have no recollection of getting into bed that night.

I woke up around 6:30 am (4 1/2 hours of sleep) to another set of vitals and the hustle of hospitals.  I called Hector in tears (I have a lot of them, so no chance of ever running out!) just wanted to leave.  I wanted to go home.  I could not believe that less than 2 months into my new job I was out of work for something so stupid.  As always, he took the time to talk me down from my hysteria, and bring reason into my head.  Several minutes later a nurse came in to tell me it was time for my ECHO.  Great, another test, and this time on my heart.  I contemplated asking for ativan...

The ultrasound wand ran around the outside of my chest and there it was in black and white on the screen - my heart.  The one organ/muscle that caused all my problem in the first place, but the one I would never ever want to do without.  I watched it quiver as it brought blood in and send blood out.  Flaps and valves moved, and I waited in antipation for the "Bubble Test".  This test would confirm whether the hole, that was sewn shut on December 12, 2006, was still closed.  The doctor agitated the saline and injected it into my IV line.  Instantly, the bubble reached one chamber of my heart.  We all watched and held our breathe.  Nothing.  Nothing happened.  No bubbles escaped and went to the other chamber.  It was good, closed, the thread that tied it together (so to speak) had not come unravelled.

And that was that.  Back in my room my mother waited for me with one of those smiles only your mother can give that makes everything seems alright.  Unfortunately, some young neurologists also waited.  I dreaded having to answer more questions, and I glanced at my mother who sat in the chair reading a book.

Doctor: Do you mind telling us what happened?

Me: Actually, I do.  I am tired of telling my story, and I really do not want to go in to it any more.  It should all be written down in the chart.

Doctor: (looking rather taken a back) I understand, but it would be good to hear you go over it.

Me: I really do not want to.  I am fine now.  I want to go home.

Doctor: Well, it seems that you had rather large migraine, and that could be what led to all of this....

I tuned him out.  I was not going to go over my story again.  I knew that it was a teaching hospital, and I was not helping the cause, but I was exhausted, annoyed, and hungry.  I wanted a coffee (which my mother managed to get for me) and I wanted my own bed.  A migraine.  I came all the way in here for a migraine?  That was it?  I was done.  The fear still danced in the back of my mind.  What if...what if it was more than that?  Well, then it was, and it was over now.

The doctors released me shortly before noon, and I walked out of the hospital in a sweatshirt, scrubs, dress shoes, and carried my computer bag over my shoulder.  I looked anything but fabulous.  But I was ok.  Deep breathes, and I drove myself home.

I supposed if it happened again, I would have to do the same thing.  There is no way of knowing whether the outcome would have been different.

Thank you to Hector, Kerry, Jarrett, my mom, Steevy, & John.

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