A Day in the Life

Tea, anyone?

Have you ever wondered what a week in the life of a pulmonary embolism survivor is like? Oh, you have? Great! I will tell you!

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Thursday, May 2nd: Went to my first appointment with my brand-new primary care provider and did not like her at all. This is mostly due to her hands off approach and the fact that she does not want to see me again until AUGUST. If I am having difficulty breathing and chest pain on a daily basis, it would be nice to at least pretend that I have access to a doctor who will take my concerns seriously. Hmmph. During this appointment, though, my warfairn was increased to 10mg/day and I was told to continue the twice daily Lovenox injections.

Friday, May 3rd: Said shortness of breath, chest pain and dizziness prompted me to take a return trip to the ER in an ambulance. What was the main problem, you ask? Dehydration. Whoops! Who would have thought that I actually need to drink water? The good news: a chest x-ray showed (read my lips) NO NEW CLOTS!

Saturday, May 4th & Sunday, May 5th: I don't really remember either of these two days. I'm guessing they consisted of more chest pain, naps, crappy TV, pajamas, and probably pizza. Actually, knowing me, definitely pizza.

Monday, May 6th: This was my first day back to work after being in the hospital! But first, I had to go to the lab to have my blood drawn. By this point, needles have become old hat to me. After being poked and prodded, I was off to my office like a good little worker bee. Going back to work was a positive step for me  - it provided some normalcy after one of the craziest weeks of my life. Plus, I love my job so I was glad to be back.

Tuesday, May 7th: The nurse from my PCP's office called with the results of my INR. It was in a therapeutic range so I was told to discontinue the Lovenox injections (yay!) and decrease my warfarin to 7mg/day. I also spoke with the nurse regarding my concerns about pain management and she indicated that the doctor didn't really specify in my chart what I am to do. Grrrr. Daily chest pain is scary, especially for a hypochondriac such as myself. Don't they get that?!?

In an interesting turn of events, when I examined my bottle of warfairn I had filled at my local Rite Aid, I noticed that the dosing instructions were incorrect. As such, I had been taking 1/2 of the dose that was prescribed to me by my doctor. I contacted the pharmacy, they admitted their mistake and apologized for any "inconvenience." It certainly would have been an inconvenience if I developed more clots and dropped dead! I still need to write a few angry letters to anyone who is masochistic enough to listen to me.

Wednesday, May 8th: More chest pain, more anxiety. At this point, I am at a loss of what to do because my PCP does not seem concerned but I feel like I am having a heart attack. I decided to do what I do best: nothing.

Thursday, May 9th: After I finish my workday, where did I find myself? Back at the ER, of course! I was having so much trouble breathing that I thought I was going to die. Plus, Creeps really wanted to visit the hospital cafeteria again. The food really grew on him.

I really can't say enough good stuff about the ED staff at Allegheny General Hospital. They are thorough, understanding, and compassionate. No matter what your medical history is, chest pain and shortness of breath are terrifying things. Just knowing that I was in such capable hands calmed my nerves considerably.

The "normal" test were performed: EKG, blood work, chest x-ray. Fortunately, the results were all good and my INR was still in an appropriate range. The doctor explained that, because of the significant damage to my lung, my recovery will take at least a few weeks. During that time, I can expect a degree of pain and difficulty breathing. Anxiety, he said, will only make it worse because panic attacks can mimic the symptoms of a PE. It's like a vicious cycle - my chest will start hurting, I will freak out, then I will have trouble breathing, and freak out some more. The more I freak out, the worse the symptoms will be.

He suggested that I keep my anxiety under control by taking Ativan when I start to have symptoms. He also prescribed pain medication. These two meds have worked wonders at keeping anxiety and pain at bay. Sometimes, all you really need is an understanding physician who expresses genuine concern for your symptoms.

Friday, May 10th - Sunday, May 12th: I've been following the recommendations of the ER doctor and have been able to effectively manage the pain and anxiety associated with it. I'm still not feeling great, but now I feel like I have the tools to deal with my symptoms. Also, I bought ice cream and cookies at the store. Ice cream will cure anything that ails you.

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After a cycle of naps, meds, ice cream, more naps, another dose of meds, and a cookie supper, I will be ready to tackle anything that is thrown at me next week! 

I AM SO HAPPY

Post m0rph!n3 injection. Also, that is a thumb and not a stump.

"No one is ever happy to be in the hospital. Well, except you." - Creeps 2013

It is no secret that I march to the beat of my own drummer. Actually, if I had my own personal percussionist, he would probably follow me around playing a pair of garbage cans. With that said, I LOVE THE HOSPITAL and I will fight anyone who talks shit on it. Admittedly, it will be a weak fight because I get winded easily, with the embolism and all.

Anyway, let me tell you why the hospital is great:

Food: I dedicated a whole post to this so I don't need to say anything else. Except sherbet.

Hi-Tech Equipment: A hypochondriac appreciates nothing more than top-of-the-line diagnostic tools that will expose all of their ailments from Morgellon's disease to Epidermodysplasia verruciformis. Every time I have to have imaging done, I am both horrified and intrigued. No one should every have to see their voice box or watch their heart beat if they don't want to, but I swear to you it is the coolest thing you will ever experience. Unless of course, you prefer to pretend you completely lack organs and are a ball of white light on the inside. In that case, I understand, and won't try to convince you that watching your own heart beat is fucking MIND BLOWING.

During my stay, I had a few tests conducted which confirmed my PE (sadface) but also ruled out any underlying heart problems, lung cancer, gall stones, and tapeworms. Being around people who can definitively state that I do not have tapeworm is a huge plus in my book, whatever that means.

Awesome Doctors: Sometimes doctors can act like dicks because their brains are huge and they sold their first born to pay for college. Here is a plug for Allegheny General Hospital: their doctors were kind, compassionate, and understanding. It is so disconcerting to be diagnosed with something that is potentially lethal, but each doctor I talked to made me feel relaxed, like I could overcome any problem that was messing with my body. During my stay, my favorite phrase was, "I am in good hands." I truly believed that. My attending physician spent a lot of time with me and answered my LONG list of questions without seeming annoyed. When I spoke with the doctor each day, he made me feel like his only patient. His mind was not elsewhere. When you are scared and don't want to die, this is the type of doctor you want to encounter.

Super-Professional Nurses: It is expected that your healthcare providers will maintain a professional

How many babies would you like me to give you?

demeanor at all times. At AGH, they met and exceeded my expectations. Even if it wasn't time for a feeding, shot, or diaper change (just kidding. I didn't poop the bed once), my nurse would pop his/her head in my room every so often just to see if I needed anything. I was actually asked if I liked ice cream. Who the fuck doesn't like ice cream, was my response but more polite. Within moments, I had a bowl of vanilla ice cream in front of my face. It didn't survive outside of my digestive system for long.

I was in the hospital for five days. This could have been hugely scary for me but the staff at AGH was simply wonderful. I can't say enough good things and can't even make a joke. Out of all the hospitals in Pittsburgh, I am glad I chose this one.

Hospital Food Blog

I'd do me. 

The picture on the right was taken the morning after my admission, before any morphine injections were administered. "That girl looks so happy. How can that be?" you ask. The answer is simple: Allegheny General Hospital is like a resort with slightly more MRSA and slightly less Jimmy Buffett. Actually, I heard zero Jimmy Buffett during my stay, so that is one more point in AGH's favor. And I also didn't get MRSA!

Can you believe the night before I was crying my eyes out convinced that I was going to die? Not to mention, I thought I would have to hand over my cell phone and shoelaces to a stony-faced nurse who wants nothing more than to give me a Thorazine shot in my ass.

Imagine my surprise when an attractive male nurse walked into my room asking me how I slept and if I needed anything. For a second, I thought that, maybe, I died and this was heaven. Quickly, I remembered that my Catholic family did not baptize me, so when I die, I will be floating around in purgatory forever. So, this male nurse is real, I am in a bed made of clouds, and there is a tray of pancakes sitting in front of me, smelling good and waiting to get shoved into my mouth.

Said pancakes were quickly shoved into my mouth and they were delicious. They were served with cornflakes, orange juice, black coffee, and a banana. I ate EVERYTHING. Here is a sad admission about my life: I have never ordered room service ever. I'm too poor for that. This felt like room service that didn't cost a million dollars and was delivered by the friendliest gentleman in Pittsburgh. And it came to me three times a day!!!

Food of the Gods

Anyone who knows me in real life has been annoyed at least once by my picky nature. In general, I love more things than I hate but this, unfortunately, does not apply to food. My pickiness has ruined dinners*, has prompted me to order off the kids' menu at fancy restaurants, and has broken many hearts. I do not hide the fact that I have the palate of a five year old.

My favorite food is chicken, especially when it is in finger form. The staff must have known I was coming because this was a menu option every single day I was there. And so was PIZZA. I did branch out a bit, though, and ate baked chicken with mashed potatoes, and even ordered grilled cheese and green beans one night!

Hospital food is the subject of many jokes, I know. But the food at AGH was more than simply edible...it was GOOD. The next time I find myself in that part of town, I am going to make a special trip to the cafeteria to have some chicken. You know, for old time's sake.

*One of my least favorite types of food is Thai food. Once, I was at a friend's home and his mother was serving some type of meat covered in gross looking Thai-inspired sauce. In the interest of politeness, I took a bite and as soon as the food was in my mouth, I knew I had a problem. I chewed the meat and gross sauce as much as I could until, mechanically, I pushed the offending substance out of my mouth using my tongue. It hit the plate with a wet thud.