from antartica to a sauna…

I’m not sure why this keeps happening but the nurse refuses to tell me what is wrong (well maybe don’t swear after checking my vitals then). I’m pretty sure it’s bad because she looks so surprised as well as concerned. So far I have managed to be annoyed with all of their questions and mad at the situation but I simply do not have the strength anymore, I have given up. I realize I am very sick and I will have to be re-admitted. I realize that I have to answer the questions to get the best possible care and I am just ready for some relief from these shakes, the stiffness, the nausea and vomiting, the head spinning, pounding head ache and tender stomach. I turn to my mom with a weak smile and I think this worries her more than the angry me. She immediately takes over demanding to know my vitals. This works because my mom can be quite intimidating when she wants to be and the nurse tells us quietly that it doesn’t look good and that we have to get me some strong antibiotics as soon as possible as well as some fever reducers. My blood pressure is off the roof and my temperature is close to 105 (again always confusing with the Fahrenheit to Celsius but I know enough to know it is high). My mom slowly nods her head, we are both used to my high fevers but the nurse seems rattled, she springs in to action, paging doctors and nurses to help her come in to set up an IV with strong antibiotics for infection. I just still really want to know what is wrong with me (have you guys heard this request before?) and why. I finally get those amazing warm blankets (sweet relief and no time to reflect over their ugly off white color and uncomfortable stiffness-the only stiffness I worry about is my neck’s). It takes me about twenty minutes to finally somewhat relax enough to lean back. I haven’t forgotten that I really have to pee but I have been way too weak to even request to use the bathroom let alone felt strong enough to try out my legs (I think the shakes made it impossible to do much of anything) but as soon as I’m about to ask to get up, guess what… I feel… warm.

No, not warm, correction HOT (no, not my looks, I probably look worse than ever- a mess-and no not a hot mess either, this is not slang for something else people; this is the real deal). Sure, I have had fevers before (a lot of them, high fevers and plenty of practice) so I know about the whole cold/hot thing but this is intense and something I have never experienced before. I guess “be careful what you wish for” is in order because I now get that sauna I wanted. I feel crazy hot as I throw off the heated, ugly (now I see it) blankets and would have kept going (with the rest of my clothes) had the nurse not stopped me with a knowing smile telling me the fever reducers must be working and did I want to use the bathroom to change into the gown and underwear (sexy time) now? YES! Bathroom please (maybe I could splash cold water on myself in there…after peeing like a liter of course). I get off the bed in a hurry but it is actually scary how weak my legs are, the nurse half carries me as I lean heavily on her. She has to literally put me on the toilet (embarrassing but what else is new?). It hurts to pee and my stomach is very sore, the blood has also completely soaked through my pad. I get the gown and the giant panties in addition to the ginormous pad (well hello old friends) and I actually need help getting undressed and dressed (bye bye modesty). When I’m changed and have left a urine sample that looks totally terrifying I feel slightly better (no cold water for me as that idea makes me shiver even though I am burning up) I now get to sink back unto the pillow, return my husband’s frantic calls and squeeze my mom’s hand but then the doctor comes in the room. They ask me if I have met this doctor before (why, yes I believe that I have meet every single OBGYN doctor in the whole entire hospital…if not world…) but I liked this one (and I do believe his exaggerated flamboyant gestures suggests something) he seems very gentle and nice and to the point. My mom sighs in relief too as the doctor takes charge and actually talks to us suggesting that maybe some placenta was left inside me (oh that darn placenta) after pressing on my stomach (ouch) and checking my breasts (did mom want to leave the room? Nop, pretty sure she has seen worse than my milk filled mom boobs…sorry lots of TMI people, and we Swedes are simply not as prude as some people…) But guess what he wants to examine next…

 

 

 

About jennym

A doctor of psychology and a mother of three writing about the struggles and joys and the ups and downs of motherhood, marriage, pregnancies, deliveries and her absolute love for her children in a humoristic yet down to earth weekly blog!

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