My friend Tricia is a nurse practitioner. "Just like a doctor!" says Emme, who is enamored of all things Tricia. Tricia and I have joke-stories about many things, but a favorite is one about my pain tolerance that goes back several years.
In spring 2003, when Luke was about 10 months, I woke up one night in intense pain, massive pain that seemed to be centered under my ribcage. We'd all had colds, and somehow I decided that I must have pneumonia, that my ribs and lungs were clearly on fire with illness. I spent some time trying to suck it up, then by six or seven in the morning was writhing on the floor in agony. Of course, it was Sunday, no options for treatment except an ER. I had Bob call Trish.
He explained the situation as he understood it from me.
"Yeah, Erin is in a lot of pain. She thinks she might have pneumonia. It hurts in her ribs."
Tricia: "What's she doing right now?"
Bob: "She's rolling on the floor moaning."
When Tricia tells the story she says that fact alone made her know something was REALLY serious. She knew that I had done super fast childbirth with Luke, all natural, no pain meds, no anesthesia or epidural. She knew that post childbirth I'd mostly shunned the vicoden and even ibuprofen they'd prescribed. She did her magic symptoms evaluation and said quickly,
"Bob, it's her gall bladder. She's the right age, she just had a baby, the pain is weird like that, but it's her gall bladder. GO IMMEDIATELY to the Emergency Room, no fooling around."
When I did get to the hospital, after fooling around with driving myself while leaving Luke with Bob, they wouldn't let me leave. Turned out I had acute pancreatitis as well as total gall bladder blockage, and they were actually concerned for my safety. Can you imagine! I tried to explain about having a ten month old at home, but the doc insisted I stay, and I got booked into a bed and a sweet experience with all night nursing care and morphine drips. Thank god Luke was already taking a bottle, and was mostly on solid food, so I didn't have to totally worry about weaning him!
I had laproscopic gall bladder surgery on Tuesday I think, and was walking the halls on Wednesday, finally home Thursday morning.
In retrospect I realize that I had signs that could have pointed me to the gall bladder issue: signs that I confused with heartburn because my pain threshold is pretty high.
So that's my joke with Tricia about my pain tolerance: "Remember that time you had pneumonia that made you roll on the floor in agony??" And we bust up laughing.
Wednesday Night
So, last night we had a spontaneous little evening with friends. Lance and Katie and Lil' Jack and Katie's Mom all came out to the farm in the afternoon. Lance helped me with some chicken chores: we got the chicken kindergarten cleaned up and mostly ready for the mamas-to-be (YES! I wore my new surgical face masks!). Katie and her mom put together an amazing dinner from the food my Aunt Laurie had sent out to the farm for our dinner. We all finally sat down to a great meal, juggling various cranky children of various ages, but really just enjoying the easy comfort we share with Lance and Katie.
And we had delicious green kale!! A yummy, yummy dish of kale, cooked to perfection with some caramelized onions. It was a delicious counterpoint to to the red sauced organic tortellinis. And then we finished out the meal with blueberry pie. I had two helpings of kale, lots of tortellini, and definitely some pie.
The problems started after our guests left, about an hour after we'd finished dinner, while I was laying in bed with Jack to sing "cowboy song".
The Heart Attack
I got a big nasty pain under my diaphragm, just under my rib cage. Then my face got really hot and flushed. I figured I might just be in trouble. I got Jack placated, then went downstairs for my new thermometer I bought just for chemo-induced fever emergencies.
I made Bob feel my forehead and then used the thermometer. The thermometer said I was at 98.9. So far so good, but I felt awful. I drank some water. I took an antacid. I paced around. I started thinking that my heart was beating irregularly. I started thinking about who would know if I was having a heart attack or a blood clot from the surgery Monday. I was pretty sure my left arm had a pain in it. That's a sign of a heart attack right? Or is it the right arm? I tried to sit on the toilet. I drank more water.
I seriously told Bob that he needed to know my current symptoms just in case I became unresponsive in the night. I managed a belch and felt slightly better. I took two more antacids and called Tricia with my latest medical emergency.
The case for small plates
Yeah, those of you who have done chemotherapy have already figured it out. In fact, I broke a pretty basic rule of "feeling good" during treatments. Small meals more frequently. Somebody I'm sure has a catchy phrase or acronym for it, but the honest truth is that it's just a lot simpler to say than to actually do.
I love sitting down for dinner with friends, love long drawn out meals with good food and great conversation. I am also horrible about making sure I get enough meals during the day--I am always one of those moms who feeds the kids but forgets to feed herself! So this is actually a very real life-change challenge for me. I need to reset my habits, I need to re-figure the hunger/nausea/full cues I may be getting, because they are seriously whacked right now.
So, Tricia's advice: Not a heart attack, not a blood clot, it's heartburn: have smaller more frequent meals. Another good belch and I had to agree with her.
"Remember that time you had the heart attack that you cured with Tums?" And we bust up laughing.
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