Four Days 'till ER

Four Days ‘till ER
The “lost” version

Sunday morning I was in church when I noticed them. It was a different church than where I am usually on Sunday, but I know God wanted me there. It was obvious then and it is obvious now. He spoke things to me there that I needed this week. I pointed them out to Kari during worship.

"Look," I said pointing to a small patch of bumps and redness on my right palm. "How weird!"

I didn't pay much heed to the annoyance that the rash building on my hand was causing. I went through the day, somewhere realizing that this might be the beginning of something I didn't want to face. But it has happened before and I thought maybe since I was late with my meds a couple nights before or...well, I tried to explain it anyway I could. By the time I left Kari's that night it was worse.

Hives again. Monday my right hand got worse. By Tuesday my left hand and feet were swelling noticeably. Shades of blue around my joints that aren't normal began showing up. Not horribly bad this time, but only because I know what to do with antihistamines. I reminded myself what to do, but only with the help of people around me. Double up on my prescribed meds. Take Benydrl for H1 and yesterday my dad reminded me about Zantac for H2. 50mg here, 150mg there, another 50mg. There is so much antihistamine in my system right now that I should not itch at all - and yet I am burning out of my skin. It feels as though I could burst right out of myself and even then the itch would not stop. Without the antihistamines, I'm certain this would be just as bad, if not worse than the times I broke out in the past when I was so swollen I couldn't walk.

6:00am - 12:30pm
I knew I shouldn't have gone to work. But I only had Lizzy. I thought I could maybe get through the day. My right hand was so swollen that holding the steering wheel hurt; it is a good thing I am left handed. The morning at work was difficult, but somehow I managed. I distracted the pain as long as I could. I wrote, I cried, I talked to God, John, Kari, and myself when I felt I might listen. I tried to talk to my doctor, but was met with incessant ringing on the other end of the phone. Ring, ring, ring. Each time I called there was nothing but ringing. It's still resounding in my head. I must have tried a hundred times, maybe more. Nothing. Twice I got a busy signal, probably lines crossing from how close together I was calling. What's the point of hiring an answering services if they don't answer the phone?

Finally I called Mary and asked her to come home. I knew I couldn't do it anymore. That was difficult, necessary, but no less difficult.

approximately 1:00pm
Talking to John. I realized that asking for help doesn't make me weak. What was it you said John? The quote about self-reliance. I will have to ask you and be reminded again. It was good. Where did it come from? Likely you made it up on your own. You always do things like that.

3pm
Mary came home. She brought the Zantac my dad reminded me about earlier in the day. I took it. A while later I noticed slight relief from the itching. I relaxed a little, thanks to her being home and not having to worry about caring for Lizzy. I was still attempting to contact my doctor whose phone was clearly off the hook. Maybe she had died. I wasn't sure. Called Kari to tell her I'd need to be picked up in Aurora. 40 minute drive for Kari. I hate asking for help. I have to remember it doesn't make me weak. I know I need to go to the hospital, but I still don't want to admit it really.

3:30pm
I called my primary doctor. Left a message. I confused the secretary. I was trying to be clear. "I have lupus. I think it's flaring. I cannot get a hold of my rheumatologist and I would like to speak with Dr. Steve." She seemed confused. I didn't want to deal with her confusion; I had enough of my own. Maybe I would just go there? She asked if I wanted an appointment. "If you have one available." She said "okay" but then said nothing about whether or not they actually did. "So what do you want?" she inquired again. "To have him call me please."

4:05pm
Called Kari. She left her house to come get me. I had to decide what I was going to do. ER or what? I really didn't want to go because I knew going meant prednisone but I didn't have many other options. Waiting. Decisions. Both things I'm not very good at. I tried. I found myself praying - a lot.

5:00pm
Kari picks me up and we get in the car. I'm still wavering in how I want to do things. Haven't heard from Dr. Steve. In the car. We decide to go get dinner and head to the ER. Dr. Steve calls on the way. I'm doing the right thing with my meds, but I need to go to the ER; they will give me the steroids. Not what I want. We eat at Noodles & Company. Called my dad who then told my mom we were going to the ER (that's a whole other story I don't feel like telling).

6:20pm
Arrive at the ER. Computer problems make triage a nightmare. Waiting for a long time.

7:15pm - 9:30pm
Triaged again. Computer crashes again. They take me back anyway. Nurse, later to be named "Butcher Woman," comes in with a very aloof attitude. She didn't get it. No one ususally does. Maybe its me. The doctor came in. I explained everything. He took me more seriously. But maybe Kari is right. Maybe I am too cheerful. Butcher Woman was given her name because of what she did to my arm to get the blood draw. It was painful and involed two dry sticks and then a collapsed vien. Not fun. Much pain.

9:40pm
Parents come in and my mom yells. First she yelled at Kari and she then yelled. I pretty much chose not to hear.

10:30pm
I was given prednisone. I demanded to talk to the doctor before I took it. I had to give in and take the steroids. Not my idea of how the day should end, but I knew it would all along. A course of prednisone and who knows what next. That’s the way it always goes. By 11:00 that night, four days after I first noticed the small patch of hives on my right hand, I was home in bed, tucked in tight by a trusted friend, waiting for the rest of this episode to flare into existence.