Hospital Stay #2

  This past week was very difficult. I hit my 11 week mark while in the hospital... again. I was not able to keep any food down. I have lost so much weight that my wedding ring slides freely off my finger like it's on a twig. So I switched my engagement ring with my wedding band so that it stays on my finger. The little silver band is just half a size smaller (maybe even a quarter size); so soon if I get feeling better but down gain weight right away I will have to wear my rings on a necklace because I don't want to risk losing them.
  This hospital visit was harder on me. We initially spent 7 1/2 hours in the ER. I don't remember most of it. Honestly I think I was in and out of consciousness between vomiting and the nurse coming in to check on me. The IV placement was odd. It was on the inside of my forearm. But not in the elbow-pit area... on my actual arm. That's the only place he could find a vein. I was so dehydrated that I couldn't urinate. My veins were so sunken in. I was ridiculously pale. They put two one-liter bags on my IV at the same time. I was so cold and my arm stung so bad from the large amount of liquids being a different temperature than my body. The nurse put a couple hot packs on my arm though and that made it a little less miserable. But I was so cold. I involuntarily trembled. Violent trembling. I had a fever when I went in and the cold fluids in my body hurt.
  Here's where I am going to praise my husband for being my superhero. He saw how scary and painful this was for me, and the entire 7 hour stay in the ER, he was comforting me and trying to distract me from the pain. When the IV was especially bad, they hadn't given me any nausea meds yet. I was in so much pain and trying to grit my teeth through it. He paused the audiobook we were listening to and came over and tenderly rubbed my legs. I don't remember what he did, but I remember he made me laugh and make jokes about what I was going through. It helped so much. He knows me so well that he knows how to distract me from pain. He  kept kissing my forehead and my cheek when the pain got too intense. And when I vomited, he was a trooper and helped me through it (he doesn't like being around when I vomit. I think it's a combo of not liking seeing me in pain, and the fact that I make disgusting belch sounds when I chuck.)
  Finally at 2:30 in the morning on wednesday, I was admitted to the Family Birth Center again. I was (FINALLY) given nausea meds and more fluids along with vitamins. I was much more comfortable and relaxed with attentive and wonderful nurses. My sweet husband had to go home because of car complications. But he was back again the next day. He spent as much of the day right next to me studying for his finals and his clinic entrance exam. Which were happening while I was in the hospital and today. He would come back after class and continue to encourage me and spend time with me. He is seriously my super hero.
  On the last day I was in the hospital, my arm became really puffy and red around the IV site. It didn't hurt or get worse, but the nurses were worried about IV displacement, so after my last round of nausea meds and vitamins, they took out the IV. It was painful coming out, which it usually isn't. And I did bleed a lot from it. I soaked through a bandaid and halfway through another one. Now it's fine, just a little bruised. No more swelling either.
  They took a lot of blood this time though. And I was so dehydrated that they had to search for the veins for a while. And no, by search I do not mean they painlessly pressed on my skin or used a blood pressure cuff to find a good vein. No, she stuck me, tried to get blood, couldn't. Then she DUG. AROUND. Meanwhile I'm almost in tears because I'm terriby petrified of needles. I wished my husband was there so much. Then she took out the needle and RE PRICKED me. She still couldn't get it, so she DUG. AGAIN. Finally she got enough blood and left me alone.
  Anyway, it was very difficult and I am so glad my husband was there with me through most of it. Hospital stays are hard on me without all the stuff I mentioned above. Hospitals trigger my PTSD. From the ugly green checkered hospital robes to the blue vomit bags to the sterile smell. I had some traumatizing memories associated with hospitals, but this time on the last day and a half or so, I was able to use those memories to help me through thinking "if my mom could handle the stress, anxiety and discomfort of the hospital, so can I." Incidentally, I am on at least one of the many nausea meds she was on for after chemo. I think that's what triggered my tough (ish) side into making me realize that I can do this.