But at least you have a really cute coat!

I may have a really cute coat, but I'd rather not have run after a bus in heels only to be about 5 feet from the rear, flailing arms and all - only to have it leave me in its exhaust fumes. Oh well, the sentiment from the girl was pretty sincere, and yes this coat is very cute, almost three years running. I should be happy about that.

:)

Exhaustion sets deep

Of course things got worse. Of course they did!


I'm going to keep this brief because I need to get it out into the world without drowning myself in the awfulness. 


Jason goes to hospital. We leave and soon learn that my mom attempted suicide and is in the hospital. She failed. Rumors circulate of her I went out to California to help her seek help. Things went "OK". I got sick. Mom plods along in seeking help. Things slow down. Get worse. Jason goes to hospital. I go to Denver. Mom threatens to commit suicide again. I get home. Jason goes to hospital. We stay til 4AM. I get no sleep. At work.

Selfish and Dreadful

I’m at that weird stage where things are constantly stressful and I dare not say or write anything about it for fear that I might set the cosmos against me. I want to be excited that Jason feels better after this morning when he was feeling sick and was starting to cramp – better enough to go to the gym tonight – but instead I feel sick and my heart hurts in fear that we’ll end up at the hospital yet again.

I have this running “joke” (that’s not really a joke at all, but more my way of making light of all the gravity around me) with the corporate trainer that comes by monthly to check in on our fitness levels and diet. She’s “bad luck”. You see, the night before she comes to see us I have been in the hospital. Of course, it’s not the only time in the month I’m in the hospital, but it’s a strange coincidence that it has been every Tuesday prior to my Wednesday appointment for the past 9 months. I am filled with dread that this will be the case yet again. Dread, I tell you. Dread.

When I came back from Charlotte this past Thursday, I ready to hit the gym straight from the airport. I at least had the sense to try and get in touch with my husband, but no one picked up. After three tries, a co-worker picked up Jason’s phone and informed me that he went to the ER. So, instead of the gym I went directly to the hospital. Of course, there’s not much they can do at this time. They’re still going back-and-forth over removing Jason’s spleen.

That Thursday, Jason went down to the liver folks for clinic and was seen by their gastroenterologist. The GI docs all want to take out Jason’s spleen. The surgeons feel that the risks and complications are too great since there is no clear or consistent indication that this is the treatment needed. The liver people have their hands up in the air. The problem is that no one’s seen a case like J’s. So, the GI docs are taking Jason’s case to a larger, national panel of specialists to see if there are any cases to help make their case, or at least something that can give us a better indication of a different treatment since going to the ER almost weekly just won’t fly.

So, here I am, selfishly panicking over going to the ER again; selfish because it pains me to see Jason go through this. I cannot relate to the type of pain he’s going through, nor the extreme tolerance he has built up for the pain meds. I want to, but I cannot and should not. I can only be there for him. I know it’s all I can do, and yet it doesn’t feel like enough… like I’m supposed to absorb some of this pain for him. And then there are the times when I am intolerant to what is happening, or ignorant to the fact that he is in pain all damned day long. Yet he goes on, he lives his life, he jams in as much normalcy and fun as possible 

Oh, where does the time go?

Apparently, I've slipped into some timeless ether. It certainly doesn't feel like more than a week has gone by. Plus, I really thought I'd be writing more (and sleeping less).

Last week I decided to go under for a little tonsillectomy. I'd heard all the horror stories, but figured it would be for the best if I just put this little cat-and-mouse game I play with my tonsils to rest. Well, ask me this in a few weeks, because right now I'm still questioning my sanity when I signed all my waivers. This sucks!

So, it's been a week, and I'm only just now feeling like I'm back to my normal self. I'm totally dehydrated-feeling, despite drinking water what feels like all the time, and I'm only just now starting to not sleep like crazy (though I feel a pretty powerful nap coming on any minute now...). I've figured out how to eat, and sadly it includes how to hack out food that gets stuck in the area formerly known as my tonsils. 

Before I forget, I figure I may as well share some pictures taken during Jason's recent hospital stint. 

That's Jason, for those who might mistake him for a ninja...

The last is my favorite of all. :)

To spleen or not to spleen...

Jason’s still in the hospital. There was a lot of back-and-forth regarding removing J’s spleen. It’s frustrating from our end, sure, because we’d all like to have found the miracle answer and move on with our lives, but the reality is that we can’t be sure what the problem is, since it’s not always present on the left side; from time to time, he has this pain on his right, in the area of the bile ducts of his liver.

What is possible is that he may have two distinct things going on at the same time; they just happen to both be happening mid-abdomen. I’ve mentioned the cholangitis before, so I suppose that now is as good a time as any to explain the spleen thing, or at least as much as I know about it. Jason’s spleen is about 2x or more than the size of a normal male of his size and age. He has portal hypertension in the liver, which can lead to excess “stuff” backing up into his spleen. This can cause a variety of issues, but until we can determine this more definitively, the risks of removing the spleen (which, in a normal person, are big enough – just throw in J’s issues and we’re talking risky business) are too great with the possibility that the problem will continue to exist after removal.

So, we wait. We’re going to watch what happens over the next couple of weeks to couple of months. Certainly, ending up in hospitals and ERs four times in a week isn’t good, but if that’s what it takes, that’s what it takes. I am going to include more of Jason’s health issues in my own logging. Perhaps this will provide doctors with a pattern from the perspective of a 3^rd party that is always present. 

It's Official

I really can't ever brag publicly about when life returns to normalcy. I'm convinced the cosmos are listening and said "Ha! That wasn't enough? Here, take some more!!"


Actually, put into perspective, this isn't that terrible... 


Wednesday, Jason started to cramp up in the morning. Except, that it seemed to start off as back pain. We went in to the local hospital, assuming it was what they'd been talking about all along: cholangitis. They treated it as such, though he was having pain around his spleen, also. Pain killers and more pain killers... such is the story of our trips to the hospital. They sent us home, we went to Jamba Juice, came home, Jason was a tad nauseated, but came with me to my hair appointment and got his done, also. 


All night he stirred. More back pain. Then more cramping. Hard cramping. So, we did as we have been directed to do; we went to the ER. Pain killers, pain killers, pain killers. Did I mention that nothing less than Dilaudid and Fentanyl will work because Jason's tolerance is so up there? We got out early in the morning and he insisted on going to work. His work is light and he had a ride home. I went to work. Things seemed okay, though looking back, he seemed a bit agitated on and off. 


Then there was Monday.


Well, well, well... we were  back at the ER with more pain. I honestly don't even remember if I made it into work or not. Or did I meet him there later. Oh yeah, I met him there later in the afternoon. Then it started snowing. Hard. We got out, went to Target for some pharmacy and some miscellaneous food items, then home. 


Still, I was worried. By the time Wednesday rolled around, Jason was having throbbing, moving toward stabbing pain. I urged him to talk to the liver transplant team himself, and they said to come down to their hospital, since they may treat it differently. Jason tried to brave it out, but around 7:30, it became clear that things were only getting worse so we went to the ER.


The ER was PACKED. I guess the last two weeks has seen a big spike in admits and injuries. Lots of flu and colds going on out there. Please, just stay away from my husband; he doesn't need any more. Thankfully (ha!) Jason's transplant status got him out of the coughing, sniffling, sneezing waiting room pretty quickly.


We got into the room around 1AM, and I was too exhausted to come home. I kind of figured it would take as long, so I packed some clothes under the stupid guise of going to work the next day since this hospital was so close to downtown. Har, har. I got only about 2 hours of pieced-together sleep, so I wasn't much use. I stayed the day, managed my emails from the hospital room and went home that night to shower, sleep, and ready myself for another day.


It's Saturday now, and Jason is still in the hospital. I think they're going to take his spleen out, it's just a matter of when. It's just a matter of how many hospital trips does it take to get to the center of this medical tootsie pop. I'm about to head back, and will hopefully make it in time to talk with the surgeons. 


Post more later. 

... Ugh...

Something is up with my throat, and Jason is cramping up again. I'm worried that I may be giving something to him that is making him sick. My plans are to sleep in the spare bedroom until I can get this straightened out with antibiotics or something.


This week is starting out awesome. Nevermind that last week was so spectacular that I didn't even have the heart to blog about it. I want to find a rock to crawl under or a corner to hide in just so I can freak out in private.