Medical Hell
My world imploded. Or exploded. And I was just about to return to work from my maternity leave. I was emotionally drained, dying inside.
And sickness plagued me. First, it was the stomach flu; twice.
Then, just four weeks after my life took a deep dive, I began with unbelievable pain in my neck, massive swellings on just one side of my neck and face that was initially diagnosed as a blocked salivary gland. I think the Dr that I continuously saw at the clinic thought I was full of shit. She continuously told me there was nothing wrong with me. Three rounds of antibiotics in 6 weeks, along with incredible pain killers for this issue before a referral to an ENT (which was 6 months away!).
I just resolved myself to being sick. Sick and tired and devastated and trying to survive. After the first round of antibiotics, I got thrush in both breasts and then a clogged duct which turned into mastitis. My littlest one was just 13 months. For any mothers that have breastfed and have had this; you will understand. For anyone who hasn’t, it’s almost an unimaginable ordeal. Let me tell you, if you aren’t sure what this feels like, let me try to explain. Stick your feet in a bank of snow; shoeless and sockless, until it is completely numb then go in the warm house. Once the insane tingling and searing pain begins as your skin begins to warm, quickly and forcefully jab hundreds of needles into the bottom of your feet and leave them there. Now, get up and start walking. THREE TIMES I endured this horrid pain. Ceasing to nurse was NOT an option for me, nor is it recommended by medical professionals.
While medically and physically it was not time for me to give up nursing, it was the emotional turmoil that drove me. My life had changed in so many ways that were uncontrollable by me, I was not giving this up, not yet. If I couldn’t control my life crumbling, I’ll be damned if I’m giving up one of the things I could “control”. By round three of mastitis I was just managing to get by as a mother; keeping up with the kids, the baby, the house and work.
The third round forced me into the ER. My fever of 104 could not be resolved. I could barely move from my bed. Finally, I had enough fear that forced me to call my “husband” and begged him to take me to the hospital. When I arrived at the ER my blood pressure was 70/40 and the nurses were shocked I was able to walk in on my own accord and then scolded me for not calling an ambulance. Blood tests, urine tests, monitors, pain medication, pumping to relieve the pressure and pain and try to reduce my 104 degree fever. Five hours in the ER and was sent home with a “Mastitis only diagnosis” and to “continue to pump and it will eventually work itself out”.
He stayed with me the entire time, despite my multiple recommendations that he could leave. He was worried, I knew it.
The following day I was worsening, quickly. I was forced by my mom and friend to return to the hospital. All the same symptoms, except a new one, it hurt immensely with each inspired breath and my left arm was numb and tingly. I immediately informed the nurse. They hooked me up to an ECG monitor. Normal. Once again, the Doctor attempted to send me home. However, thanks to the diligence of my mother, who refused to take me home, I was finally admitted and sent upstairs. I lucked out when I was admitted to the 5th floor of the hospital as my first nurse happened to be a good friends sister! And the Doctor on call was extended family to my mother. Mel, the nurse, made sure that I was moved into a private room on floor five. THANK THE HEAVENS.
My Doctor, knowing my family and that I wasn’t “A nut” (Ok, not in the total sense) began to run tests.
First was an ultrasound of the breast to determine if there was an abscess requiring surgery (thank God that was negative!). A lung scan and chest CT followed. As I returned to my room on the stretcher, I began screaming and shouting in the most intense pain I’ve ever felt (and I gave birth WITHOUT pain medication). I clearly terrified the medical staff as they began running around and next thing I know I was having an emergency head CT to rule out an aneurysm (that was scary as fuck as I actually thought at that point I was dying). Thank God, another negative! My Doctor worked me up to the fullest. The disheartening fact is, there isn’t much time or resources to work up a young, healthy female for atypical medical conditions in the emergency room. And then the frightening fact is, these medical conditions become overlooked because the hospital resources are overloaded with our ever aging senior population. And serious, life threatening conditions can be overlooked simply because “you’re young and healthy”.
My parents hadn’t left my side. My “husband” was on full time dad duty while I was in the hospital. My parents, still hurt and reeling from the separation, were my biggest support. However, as I fully understood their feelings, I had to tell them they needed to “simmer their shit”. My mother had had a conversation with him that “he was the reason I was in the hospital. The stress I was under was causing this and killing me” and that he wasn’t welcome at the hospital. I get it. Fuck. I totally get it. BUT, reality is, our separation was seemingly atypical and we still “loved” one another and he was scared. He was scared for the mother of his children. For the woman that he had loved for half his life. And I understood but truth be told, I also appreciated my mother for this. Seeing him was hurtful. And hearing “maybe this is what is needed for him to realize he still loves you” was even worse. While those around me believed this had to be the catalyst for reconciliation, my gut told me different.
The lung tests showed blood clots in my lungs. Once the PE (pulmonary emboli) diagnosis was made, a double ultrasound from hip to toe was done to search for a DVT (deep vein thrombosis which could explain how I had clots in my lungs) – this was negative. I was in the hospital for 5 days. Five days where I could not see my girls. The possibility of meningitis was thrown around so they were not allowed to visit. Mastitis leading to sepsis and pulmonary embolisms. It took 3 days for my body to turn around. When I finally did, the nurses said “we were really worried about you for a while”. No shit. Me too. And then it was “Hey, enjoy this time like a “vacation”. HA! While I enjoyed the fact I could order any food, at any time and eat it HOT and enjoy it…..this was far from a vacation.
The cardiologist entered the room to discuss anticoagulant (blood thinners) and drop the bomb that I would HAVE to stop breast feeding. I erupted into tears. How could this year be like this? I was determined I was not giving this up. I shook my head and said I couldn’t do this. The cardiologist, a man, simply could not wrap his brain around my statement and boldly, and very simply stated “if you don’t. you will die”. Again, through tears, I tried to explain to him that I understood his medical expertise but this wasn’t black and white.
I then forwarded my medical history to Dr Jack Newman, the breast feeding guru doctor. And for the first time in 4 months, I heard something “positive”
I did not have to stop nursing!
I finally returned to work after what seemed like forever. I continued my meds and my repeating lung scans and chest CTs.
Then came major life scare number 2. While at work I could not breathe. I panicked. My coworkers, scared, called 911. In the ambulance I lost the ability to move and feel my left arm. A stroke. A heart attack. The two medical concerns that the Doctors were now trying to rule out.
At this point, we are only 6 months into the year and I am quite literally, broken.
I returned the following day for my cardiac stress test. The Doctor and nurse were amazing.
Finally, the Doctor comes to talk to me. My cardiac function is fine. Normal. His diagnosis:
takotsubo cardiomyopathy.
What the fuck is that. It sounds serious. But anyone hazard a guess as to what the colloquial term for it is?
Broken. Heart. Syndrome.
This shit is real. It’s a real thing! Like people actually can suffer from a broken heart. The symptoms and effects are very real.
My reaction? I laughed at the Cardiologist and said “So what you’re telling me is I’m crazy. I’m actually just crazy”. He replied “Of course not.” And we went on to discuss what I needed to do, what the future looked like for me.
Then the cardiologist looked at me and said (bless his heart) “ Forgive me. You are a very beautiful woman. You obviously seem very smart, educated and funny. And your husband left you?” followed by a brief ….pause….then said in almost a whisper “What the hell is wrong with him?”.
At this point, I had asked myself this over and over. What was wrong with HIM? What WAS wrong with him?
I had spent the first few months repeating “What was wrong with ME? What IS WRONG with me?” over and over. I internalized every single thing. I pushed my self appreciation and worth WAY down.
I agonized over this split to the point I was hospitalized. It was actually killing me.
And here’s where I decided Fuck. This. Shit. I was NOT going to roll over and die. I was NOT going to allow myself to continue on in this manner. My children NEEDED their mother. Not just a shell of a mother and certainly NOT one that was visited at a grave site on holidays and special occasions. I needed to begin to THRIVE, not just SURVIVE.
The first thing that happened after this ambulance ride ordeal was my Doctor placed me on medical leave from work. I HAD to reduce my stress in any way I could. And since I couldn’t fix my marriage and make my husband love me, the rest of life had to change. Do you know that I stressed over going on stress leave!? I was worried about my job (not because I thought I would lose it) as I hated letting them down. I hated the idea that I was leaving more work for the already thin herd of veterinary technicians and potentially causing them stress by not being there.
But this wasn’t about anyone else any longer.
It was about me and the fight that I was about to begin to get back to myself.
