girlfiend

My small intestine was infected. I don’t know how it got infected, or why my symptoms did not include the diarrhea that would lead one to believe that one’s intestine could be infected, but infected it was. And after two weeks of mild indigestion, random vomiting, and sporadic excruciating pain, I went to the ER. I was doubled over in pain for hours before I got there and hours until they got me back to the room. Of course by the time I was back in a room the pain had subsided and I was convinced that it was nothing. My white blood cell count was way high so they did a CT scan and my small intestine was enlarged and there was fluid around my stomach. It was not just my fibromyalgia acting up, as B joked.

Because an infected small intestine wasn’t bad enough, the two antibiotics they gave me made me feel even worse. I was on clear liquids and bland foods for days and I had no energy and could barely push the stroller to the playground, let alone play with my kids once I was there. One of the antibiotics made me more susceptible to sunburn. The other had an alcohol warning which I ignored. Who knew that this was the one antibiotic you really can’t drink on? About an hour after a very weak drink I started spinning. Then I started puking. It was alcohol poisoning without the binge drinking. I avoided food and drink for another few days until the course of antibiotics was over.

Two days after I finished the antibiotics we took an overnight trip to the Strasburg Railroad. We stayed at a hotel with both indoor and outdoor swimming pools. The plan was to enjoy a glass of wine in the courtyard after the kids were asleep. At dinner I had about half of a Margarita. Within half an hour I was spinning. 20 minutes after that I was puking. The antibiotic was out of my system, but the alcohol-processing enzyme that the antibiotic destroyed had not yet been replenished. Will it ever be replenished? I am scared of a glass of wine.

Back at home the next night I heard a crash from upstairs, the expected tears, and the unexpected, “Oh shit, oh my god.” B yelled for me to come upstairs and he and F were both covered in F’s blood. I grabbed a washcloth to blot F’s forehead and see how bad it was and my god, it was bad. I packed a bag, pulled the car out of the driveway, and grabbed a popsicle for the ride. We dropped the baby off at my sister-in-law’s and drove to CHOP. This was our first CHOP experience- we’ve see CHOP doctors at satellite offices- and while I certainly don’t wish to return their ER, we are very lucky to live so close to such an amazing place. The doctors, nurses, residents, and front desk staff were all fantastic. F was calm and easy going throughout the entire experience- even while they stitched up his forehead.

F also managed to pee in the potty two times while we were there. Unfuckingbelievable. He’d been peeing in a Flyers cup for the past week, still refusing to use the potty, but with no Flyers cup available he chose to use the toilet, not soak his underwear.

To recap, I was sick for two weeks before I went to the ER and now, two weeks later I’m still feeling like crap, only less crappy than I felt a week ago. F is using the potty, only it’s not a potty it’s a Flyers cup, and he’s got three stitches in his forehead and can’t get wet. I have accomplished nothing on my to-do list and the summer is flying. I miss drinking.

You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.