An Adventure, Part 3...

Sometime on Saturday afternoon I started hearing a faint noise that sounded sort of like a notification sound on a phone. My room was right across from the nurse's station, so during the day there was often activity and noise out there.  And there are all kinds of beeps and other noises going on, so I didn't think much about it the first few times I heard it. But finally, it dawned on me that maybe, just maybe it was my phone.  I wondered if it was somewhere behind me where I couldn't see it, buried under something.  I was hooked up to too many thing to get up and start looking for myself.

When the nurse came in, I mentioned it to her.  She started looking through all my close-by things (that, by that time, I had already looked through).  Then she started looking through my current covers - which is probably when I mentioned my theory again - that my phone had probably gotten caught up in the bed linens of the gurney.

For some reason, this time it clicked for her!  She walked over to what was a linen hamper - which was about two arms length away from me the whole time.  Here, I thought it was a garbage bag!  With abandon, the nurse went bravely into the hamper, pulling out sheets and blankets, shaking everything trying to find my phone.  It was a funny and endearing sight.  Seeing her pull my phone out of the bottom of the bag was met with a cheer, and I declared her "Wonderful!"

In spite of my inauspicious beginning on the med/surge floor, the nursing and tech staff won me over from that point on.  Most of them looked too young to be nurses and techs, and all were tender and kind in their very different ways.  This began to be apparent to me as I started feeling better.  They were probably very kind to me in my sick hours, but I was too out of it to fully notice.

My home for 2 1/2 days...   See that blue thing in the background on the left.  That was the laundry hamper where my phone spent part of Saturday.

Okay... having dramatized enough of this hospital visit, I will wrap it up below.  

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When one has an attack of acute pancreatitis (especially, if there is no infection present), the protocol is to give intravenous fluids, analgesics and to give the digestive system rest (i.e. starve the patient).  Not that I was interested in eating, but after about 12 hours of nothing to drink, I was excited to be offered ice chips. A few hours later, when they brought me chicken broth and frozen gelato, I savored very sip and slurp.  

Okay, nevermind the chicken broth was pretty tasteless, the important thing was it stayed down.  And the cold gelato only made me hurt a little.  Though, I was unsure how to parse out the different discomforts since I was on morphine.  Even on morphine, the pancreatic pain was still there, but by this time it merely felt "sore" or tender, instead of angrily gripping my whole middle.  The next meal was more broth and gelato (and jello if I wanted it, which I didn't), and the next meal... more of the same.  And the next day...  more of the same. 

By Sunday night, my stomach was gnawing with hunger, but the idea of eating still held no appeal.  After asking a number of times how long this process took, and getting no clear answer, I realized, there is no clear answer.  

When a patient can tolerate clear liquids, s/he is moved to semi-solids (puddings, and I don't remember what else).  Then, finally, the patient is given solids, and when s/he can tolerate solids, s/he can be discharged and finish recovering at home.  

The liquid diet went on through Monday morning, until the hospitalist's nurse came into my room, and started a conversation with me about going home.  As confusing as this was, physically, I knew I was capable of managing at home, and I would get better more quickly there.  So...  without actually saying we were skipping the middle step, that is what we did.  I was allowed to order something simple off the menu and eat solid food for the first time in 2 1/2 days. It might be worth mentioning, one of the reasons they wanted me to go home quicker than they were planning, was because flu patients were quickly filling up the floor, and they didn't want me getting it.  I didn't need the motivation, but that kicked me into high gear to order lunch, get packed, and be ready to leave as soon as they could make it happen. 

Nothing else dramatic happened in the few hours it took to eat, pack, and for them get my discharge orders completed.  It was cold - I think below zero outside - but I was so happy to be in the frigid air, set free from my hospital room.

Instructions were for me to slowly introduce new solids - preferably just one food group a week.  That seemed incredibly slow, and maybe it was too cautious, but I did my best to abide by that for the first week - and really through most of this past week. Up until just a couple of days ago food has made my innards hurt (some times more than other times), but one ibuprofen and one tylenol practically made me feel normal in those early days.  And as of this weekend, I've felt pretty good.

I hope I never have this happen to me again, and I'm prepared to never really understand why it did happen.  I have some suspicions that something autoimmune has been going on since summertime, and the high-dose flu shot I got four days prior to the attack may factor in.  And depending on what is determined about my thyroid, that could factor in (or not).

I'm trying to live by Matthew 6:34.  "So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself.  Each day has enough trouble of its own." ~ Jesus (NASB)

Okay...  so, practically speaking, that means I'm going to refrain from writing here what I already know from an ultrasound done on Friday. Hopefully, I'll hear from a doctor early this week to learn next steps.  And maybe in another week or so, I'll be able to write with some knowledge about what's up with my thyroid.

Prayers are appreciated - of course, for best outcomes, but also for peace of heart and mind to prevail - both in the waiting and in the outcome.

I appreciate the thoughts and prayers and such kind comments on these posts.  I imagine most bloggers feel this way about their readers, but I definitely feel I have the best people imaginable following along here - willing to encourage and pray.  

Thank you so much.

It's funny how the town I've lived in for over 27 years, and a road I've driven at least a thousand times looks like a different world viewed from a third-floor hospital room.