Don't speak too soon

One of several lessons I've learned this week. Sunday I posted how happy I was to be home etc etc. Hmmmm. Monday I was admitted to the hospital. Just the facts for now, and maybe more tomorrow. Saturday: running fevers, as high as 103, tylenol and motrin not working really well, long ER visit (filled with wondrous and expensive tests), discharged and told it was viral and to come back if I was worse. Sunday: fevers again, up to 103, finally responding to motrin. Not really sure what to do about it all. Monday: Scheduled follow up appt with oncologist, then received a call from the ER nurse that my blood cultures were positive for bacteria and to come right in for admission. Tried to get oncologist to just write the orders so I could avoid the ER--no go. I actually learned from my first visit, and told the receptionist my white blood cells should be very low, and I needed to wait out of the waiting room. She was kinda snippy about it, so I sat outside. When I did get called back, I got the impression that everyone thought I was over-reacting a tad by wearing my mask. I just figured that the ER was probably full of sick people and it might be a good idea. I told both the nurse and the doctor that I was 10 days post chemo and supposed to be at my nadir point (then explained that meant lowest immunity). After many more blood tests and and IV (and several requests for them to close the door so germs would stay out) several nurses literally ran to my little exam room. "Did you know your white blood cell count was low?!?!" "When did you have chemo last?" hmmm. After that it was all about closing the door and making sure everyone wore a mask around me. Long time later, I was admitted to the oncology floor and had the best nurses ever. Arriving on the floor the nurse says "I see your white count is low, you must be at your nadir point". Hmmm, all the sudden I felt like someone understood! My fever hovered around 103 until 4 that morning when apparently I had enough tylenol and antibiotics to help get it down. The doctors assured me that they were using "the biggest guns of antibiotics" in my care. I just wasn't sure about having the big guns pointed at me. After the fever came down Tuesday morning, things went pretty smoothly and I started to feel better. My oncologist ordered more of those shots I'm not fond of, and I learned something else very interesting. Usually the proceedure for my shots is as follows. . . . drive to the office, they call me, give the shot and tell me they'll see me tomorrow "drive safe!". After my shot this time they did the routine vital sign check: blood pressure 86/60. oops. Appears maybe I shouldn't really be driving home after those shots! So the second evening was spent with me getting a bunch of IV fluids then being told not to get out of bed with help, even to the restroom. Think about that for a minute. Add in a cough and I'll just say 'nuff said. We got through the night, blood pressure did fine, and to make the story short (since I already made it long), they let me go home! I had made it a point to play the pity card with all the doctors and nurses. . . . "my son has a birthday Thursday, I really need to be home by then". Poor lady has cancer and young kids, we can't let her miss the birthday! Heh. Actually, everyone was so happy to help, and the doctor seemed really glad to be able to let me go, so I could celebrate Johnny's 7th birthday tomorrow. Many more lessons learned but for now, I need to go eat some more yogurt and get to bed.