I've avoided the Emergency Room for the last 28 years. Unless you count one time that I went with dessert to visit my sister during her shift at work.
Then yesterday morning I noticed a banana stuck to Tiago's pants after breakfast, so I bent down to get it and the rest of the day was a series of misfortunate events. Half-way through my 'bend' something gave out in my lower back and I went tumbling backwards. I laid on the floor for a minute, thinking what an inconvenience this was. I was a helpless bystander as that banana got pushed into the carpet. Oh well?
Then things got worse. I watched Tiago crawl into the kitchen. Then onto the dishwasher which was inconveniently open. He doesn't know how to 'get down' so I had images flash through my mind of him throwing himself off and hitting his head.
I tried to stand. It worked, for about 4 seconds until it just didn't work, and I found myself crashing to the ground. My back simply wouldn't work. And it's not until your back feels like a floppy spaghetti noodle that you realize that almost every action involves your back muscles. Almost. I quickly (out of necessity) discovered that if I laid on my stomach I could pull myself along the floor with my arms. I saved the baby from the dishwasher, and really regretted that I hadn't cleaned my floor in a week.
I laid on the kitchen floor for 20 minutes, staring at the bottle of Tylenol on the top shelf of my opened cupboard. Tiago was throwing every piece of Tupperware I owned all over the kitchen, and I didn't really mind; he was quiet. (Although he really needed a diaper change. Figuring out how to change his diaper was my second priority after getting to that Tylenol.)
After several failed attempts, I twisted my body so most of my weight was on the counter top and not my back. I'm positive I looked like Quasimodo. But I grabbed the medicine before wreathing to the floor in pain. When I kicked the fridge door open to get my water bottle I was pretty disgusted to see it on the top shelf.
I formed a brilliant plan in my head. I was going to prepare a bottle for Tiago, crawl into his room and hope he would follow me, change his diaper, feed him, and have him take a nap on the floor. Once he was asleep I would figure out what to do about my back.
I started crawling. I dragged myself and a bottle through the dining room, and into the entryway where I saw my cell phone. At that point I thought I'd call Hyrum just to see what he was up to, because if he was free, maybe he could come change that diaper and lift Tiago into the crib.
"Hello. What are you doing? Uhm, I've been laying on the floor for the last hour unable to move..."
He hurried home, thinking he was going to find a paralyzed wife, but instead, he just found me laying behind the front door pathetically, while Tiago played with the toilet bowl brush. Normally that's a no-go, but I guess he was smart enough to know he could get away with it.
Once Tiago was asleep we evaluated our options. The health clinic on post wouldn't see me, so my only option for medicine or a diagnosis was the Emergency Room (at the German hospital where Tiago was born.) I could either make it down to the car on my own, or call an ambulance. I thought initially that Hyrum would be able to carry me down, but every time he tried lifting me I had horrible spasms in my back that made me want to lay down in a neutral position and never move. I tried getting into a rolling chair, but couldn't even get into a kneeling position. I was worthless.
But I also couldn't stand the thought of an ambulance coming, so I told Hyrum I'd drag myself downstairs. He did some work while Tiago napped, then I started my long trek down 1.5 flights of stairs. It sounds crazy, but it honestly was less painful to do it on my own. It probably took 45 minutes. And of course my downstairs neighbors came out just as I was making it to the bottom. I waited and waited for them to leave, because it was kind of embarrassing to literally drag myself. I couldn't explain the problem because of the language barrier, and they were horrified just seeing what I was doing. I wanted to say, "This would be a little less painful if you'd just go inside!" But I eventually swallowed my pride and just dragged myself with my arms down the walkway to the car.
[There are pictures on the camera of me going down the stairs because Hyrum thought it looked pretty funny. I'll have to update this later.]
At 2:30, more than 5 hours after my 'accident', I arrived at the emergency room. My experience at the hospital was frustrating overall, but I was pleasantly surprised when they took me right into a room and started drawing blood and asking my symptoms. None of the nurses were comfortable with English, so they just didn't say anything. They hooked me up to a tube and walked away. (Turns out it was medicine, but really?? Not a word??)
The next several hours involved being wheeled around on my hospital bed, waiting in random hallways for up to an hour, seeing random doctors, and maybe most importantly getting a urinary catheter. Until you need one, they'd never cross your mind. But without going into detail, they're kind of a lifesaver. Moving on...
I was frustrated that no one was telling me anything, and frustrated that no one seemed to understand what pain I was in. (On a scale of 1-10, it was a 10. Comparable to childbirth contractions.) Multiple times, people brought in wheelchairs and asked me to get in! I wanted to hit them. While laying down I couldn't even lift my legs more than an inch.
They asked me if I wanted to stay the night or go home. I tried to nicely explain that I live on the second floor and don't physically have a way to sit up, not to mention walk up stairs. Or even get off the bed for a start. So they found me a room with two old German ladies who didn't speak any English. They were up at 6 this morning chatting, and that continued on most of the day.
The one saving grace of my hospital visit was that right as I was trying to go to sleep, they brought in a medicine labeled NaCl. (Although I was envisioning getting vicodin, percocet, or any of the other really strong pain meds that I know nothing about but hear people talk about so they must be strong, most of the stuff they were leaking into my veins was weak sauce.) But as soon as that NaCl bottle started dripping in, I recognized it as one of the drugs I got during my labor contractions. It feels like little balls of cool metal dissolving throughout your body. I got dizzy, and my fingers felt tingly, and I thought, "If this is what it feels like to get high, I think I like it." I dozed off into a blissful sleep. (I'm sure the bottle contained more than sodium and chloride, but since the nurses weren't big into sharing information, I'd be the last one to know what I was getting.)
This morning I finally saw a doctor. They ruled out herniated disks and fractures, and told me it must just be a muscular problem. They mentioned a physical therapist coming, but that never happened. I said, "If I'm just going to lay here all day with medicine, I could do that from home. Is there any reason for me to stay?" They said no. So I waited several hours hoping for a follow up or physical therapist, or 'next instructions' and eventually gave up and asked if I could go home. If I leaned against something to help hold my weight I could kind of stand, so I had a little confidence I could make it up our stairs.
I had a really nice friend who quickly volunteered to watch Tiago for us today while Hyrum was at work. It worked out so well. I wish I could say my 'day off' was relaxing and enjoyable, but it was mostly just very painful and boring. I had no internet, no tv, no computer. Just a book I'd grabbed from home that wasn't even that entertaining and two German roommates talking all afternoon.
Before Hyrum picked me up, a nurse brought in my 'discharge papers' to take to the Army Health Clinic. She said, 'Okay, you are clear to leave. Goodbye!' I am convinced that no one in that building communicated with anyone, because there was no way I could walk out of the hospital. So I asked for a wheelchair, and she had no clue what I was talking about. I eventually acted it out for her and she brought me one. One of the many times that I had a language barrier. I think the labor/delivery section of the hospital has all the English speaking nurses because neurology had no one.
Hyrum picked me up, we came home and got Tiago in bed, and then he hurried off (unfortunately) to an Army event that he couldn't get out of. Hopefully that explains why I just typed this entire novel: I really haven't talked to anyone in two days! I'm going a little stir crazy, and can't get up from the couch.
I'm still not sure how serious this problem is. I keep hoping that in a few days I'll wake up and it will just feel better, and I'll keep training for the half-marathon like usual. This past Monday I ran my longest distance yet-[9 miles! I can brag, it's my blog after all] and felt relatively good. I just ordered expensive running shoes online and I was starting to feel like 13 miles was within my reach, but this could be a huge setback (or game ender? I hope not!)
Maybe the only productive thought that I had during my long boring day was in regards to charity. I've been studying that topic lately and thinking about how I can be more charitable. It doesn't come naturally to me. I think I'm too quick to judge people's intentions if I think they come across as needy (yes, I realize that's bad) and because of that I don't like asking people for help. I don't want to come across as needy. That's why I laid on my kitchen floor for an hour before even calling my husband who was at work, surely doing more important things. However, being in the hospital, and having to rely on other people for help, has humbled me. Last night when I started realizing how seriously I was hurt, I knew exactly who I could call for help. I hope I can be that kind of person to others in need. I'm still not sure how to get there, but maybe I'll figure it out with the many hours I have ahead of me laying flat on my back.
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