So it is super-hot here, and we’re we’ll be leaving in a bit for Manteo…and I should update you on last week. Or at least give you more details. So:
It started with a cold. I’d had one—a real cold—two weeks ago. I took a few days off and then went back to work on Friday. On Saturday I was feeling a bit better and was hoping that I’d feel 100% for the drive to Cincy on Sunday afternoon.
I woke up Sunday morning feeling…odd. Hot, but I didn’t have a temperature. The AC was set to low so that I wouldn’t spontaneously combust, but my temperature was 97.1. Low, but not a fever, for sure. I did the clips, took some tylenol, and went on with my day, which including taking Phil to Cincy (that’s all in another post).
On the way home I was still hot and a bit bothered, and had no appetite. I took a nap when I got home, cooled off a bit, and then tried to go to bed.
Didn’t work—nausea and vomiting began. I had vomited that morning at church (It was so hot), but had been all right the rest of the day.
So, I figured I had some sort of flu. I was a bit sore, and hot whenever the AC was off (even for a few minutes). So I missed M-T at work due to the nausea/vomiting. The vomiting wasn’t real consistent, but it was a bit worrisome.
On Monday night my parents came over. As my parents were leaving, my dad said, “how’s your oxygen?” I took the portable pulsox out of the basket on the coffee table, and put it on my finger.
“I think something’s wrong with it,” I said to dad. The pulse part was reading 205. And I was pretty sure my heart wasn’t beating 205 times a minute. If it was, I wasn’t feeling it.
My parents both tried it, and it registered normal for them. “Maybe it’s the batteries,” dad said. So he changed them—but it didn’t change the result. We even called my sister to come over and listen to my heart. She said it was maybe 92.
We called my docs, just to be sure, and they sad if I still felt bad tomorrow to call my primary care doc. Which, um, I don’t have. So my mom said she’d make an appointment for me to see the doc the rest of my family sees.
Tuesday, I felt a bit better. So I decided that, if I went 24 hours without vomiting, then I’d go back to work.
That didn’t work. W night was awful—no sleep, vomiting, aches all over. So on W morning, I called my parents at 6, and we went to the ER. My mom took me, which was a rare event. We had called ahead, so they knew to expect me. (yay)
Mom dropped me at the doors and I carefully made me way in. After registration, I was taken back to a triage room and my vitals taken.
My heart rate? 205.
“Um, mom,” I said. “The pulsox was working.”
A pulse of 205 will get people moving. I was taken back to one of the critical care rooms (I’ve been here a few times—when you’re a lung tx patient and you’re having chest pain there is no messing around in the ER) and things started happening fast. In these rooms, there are nurses, techs, and two doctors attending. I was attached to telemetry, and EKG was done, a chest x-ray taken. My port was accessed and fluids began to run, along with the lovely drugs for pain and nausea. My heart rate still wasn’t going down.
My mom called my dad who came from work. Cardiologists were, of course, very quickly involved. Now I was pretty comfortable, and I really didn’t feel my heart going as fast as it was, so I wasn’t too panicked. Maybe it was the drugs or maybe I was delusional, but it didn’t feel that bad.
To be continued…