(Start the story out with part 1 here.)
It took a little while to get my MRI set up, because of - you guessed it - insurance. It's always insurance. "We have to get proof that you need this"... blah, blah, blah.
In the meantime, I was in major pain. My doctor had given me a strong narcotic pain patch but at the lowest dose. It wasn't cutting it for me. I remember it was a Tuesday night when I put it on because it was the Tuesday night before my birthday. By my birthday, the next Monday (Oct 1), I was beside myself in pain. I decided to visit the pain doctor again and see if there was anything they could do. I expected some sort of pill to take with my patch at times when I needed more pain control. But instead, they decided to up my pain patch to the next strongest dose. The nurse practitioner I saw that day asked if the 5 mcg patch had made me nauseous. I said "Yes, but I'm able to control it with a mint or a piece of gum." Her response was that it might get a little worse with the 10 mcg patch. Boy, was she right.
I put the 10 mcg patch on Tuesday night. Wednesday morning I woke up completely nauseous. Tim was great and got the kids ready and drove them to school so I could stay in bed. I called the doctor's office as soon as they were open, but in true doctor office fashion, I had to leave a message and wait for someone to call me back.
Which they did.
At 6:30 that night.
Only after an entire day of being nauseous and trying not to throw up. Their response? Take off the 10 mcg patch and put a 5 mcg one back on. So I did that. At 6:30 on Wed night.
But I was already over the edge.
At 4:30 AM Thursday morning, I started throwing up. And I continued to throw up, off and on, all day (more off than on). My gracious parents came over to take care of me and then to take care of my kids when they got home from school. By evening, when Tim came home, I thought I was doing a little bit better. He kept coming in our room making me drink sips of Gatorade. Of course, I would end up vomiting those up 30 minutes later...but I would hold it down for 30 minutes. One of Julie's pediatrician's had told me years ago that if you can keep drink down for at least 10 minutes, you can prevent dehydration. That was my hope.
Tim's first words when he came home were "You have to keep drinking because I don't want to have to take you to the ER today."
I really did.
But it just didn't happen.
At 4 AM on Friday, after 24 hours of being sick, I couldn't see any of the veins on the inside of my wrist. I have very pale skin and, normally, you can see all my bright blue veins very clearly. That day, they were gone. My one thought was, "If I can't see my veins, then that means I don't have enough water in my blood, or in my whole system."
So I woke Tim up and told him that he needed to take me to the ER.
(Story to continue later...)