In My Darkest Hour

It all started on Scotty's birthday, November 7th, to be exact. We were out at Lone Star for dinner with the family and I just didn't feel right. I had the body aches and felt a bit out of it. I'm sure my parents thought it was a case of the 'Sunday Blues'...you know, the old 'getting sick on Saturday night so you don't have to attend church the next day' kind of thing. Well, I did not go to church the next day. In fact, I stayed in bed all day. Didn't even go to my mom's house for dinner that night. Monday I woke up with the body aches and feeling extremely dizzy. We decided it was time to go to the InstaCare...my FAVORITE place. A side note: why does the InstaCare suck so much? You wait and wait for someone to talk to. When you finally do get around to seeing a live person, it's like a guessing game for them. I swear, I could be a Dr. at the InstaCare. Just give me your symptoms and I'll make an educated guess on what you have and send you happily on your way. Anyway. This is pretty much what went down that night at the InstaCare. They swabbed me (stuck a q-tip clear down my nasal passage into my throat actually) for swine flu, wrote down my symptoms, did a chest x-ray and an EKG (because I was experiencing some chest pressure), and some blood work. An hour later, everything came back normal. There was a pending blood test however that they wouldn't have results to for a couple of hours. They told me to go home, keep taking the Tylenol and Advil, get some sleep, and wait to hear about the remaining blood tests. Gee, thanks. I needed to pay $35 for that advice?

We did go home and got into bed about 11:00. At midnight, Scott's phone rang. It was the InstaCare. One of the blood tests, the D-Dimer, was extremely elevated. Normal is 0-500. My score was 5,500. The Dr. informed us that this was life-threatening, a sign of blood clots, and that we needed to get to the ER immediately. Super. I called my mom and dad who, of course, came at a moments notice. The Dr. called back 10 minutes later to make sure we were leaving. She again told Scott that this was a critical situation and that we needed to get to the ER as soon as possible. I told him to ask her if I should just leave my sleeping kids or wait for the grandparents to show up...

We left for McKayDee shortly after midnight. I was freaking out a bit and though Scott's exterior showed a calm and collected man, I know he was scared too. I don't know what I expected when we got to the hospital. A team waiting for me. A bed to be wheeled in on. Flashing emergency lights letting our Dr. know we were there. Something. But, it was dark and eerily quiet. The attending was calm and collected. I wanted to scream at her that I could die at any moment while she sat there popping her gum and attempting to make small talk. After being checked in, I dressed in the hospital gown and the waiting began, again. The first people we saw were the phlobotomists...of course. Now look, I am not afraid of needles. I've been poked so many times in my life that I could be the poster child for pincushions. However, I have learned one thing from being poked so many times, and that is, my veins blow. They are terrible. Those special people who get the opportunity to poke at me know what I mean. Finding veins in my arms is next to impossible. I tell the phlobotomist this every time I need a blood draw. I did the same that night at McKayDee. And wouldn't you know it...she did the same thing that every other flippin phlobotomist does. She went for the arm vein. It's like they have something to prove. "Well, we'll see about that." "I'm a trained blood sucker." "I can certainly find a vein." "Sit back and watch the master at work." Whatever. So, I laid back, offered up my arm, and waited for the inevitable moment when she'd look at me and say, "You're right. You are a hard stick." This time was better than most however because not only could she not find a vein, but after 'fishing' around under the skin for a bloody half an hour, she finally hit a small vein that she tried to shove the IV into, upon which she blew out the vein entirely. Blood spurted everywhere. All over her, all over the bed, all over the floor. I almost laughed. Almost. She left in a hurry and sent someone else in to do the blood draw...from my hand...just like I'd requested in the first place. After more blood work, more X-rays, and a thorough exam (haha) from the Dr, I was declared 'fine' and 'ready to go home.' Okey-dokey.

Tuesday through Saturday are one big blur. I just know I got sicker and sicker. Wednesday the InstaCare called and wanted me to come back in for some more blood work, but I never saw a Dr. I lay in bed wondering what was going on. I was so weak and tired. Wednesday night the headaches started. I've never had a migraine, but from what I've heard, I was experiencing migraine like symptoms. My head hurt so bad. My eyes hurt. My neck hurt. And loud sound hurt. It was debilitating. My mother-in-law is a nurse at Alta View and had been checking on me daily. By Saturday she'd had enough. If this was just a virus, other family members should have gotten sick. No one else was. If it was just a virus, it should have run its course by now and I should have been feeling better. I wasn't. She called in a favor to one of her friends, Dr. Tweed, and asked him to meet us at Alta View just so he could take a quick look at me and see if he had any ideas. I had not been out of the house since Wednesday. I hadn't really been out of bed. Driving down to the hospital was terrible. I hurt so much. The light from outside was crippling. I just wanted to know what was wrong with me. Dr. Tweed took one look at me, and said I needed to get back into a hospital for an MRI and possibly a Lumbar Puncture to check for Meningitis. Awesome. I knew I should feel alarmed by all this, but my head hurt so much that I couldn't think about anything but the pain. They decided we should go to the new hospital IMC, because it had the latest and greatest state of the art stuff. I remember getting there and sitting in the lobby waiting for Scott to check me in. I had my sunglasses on and my hood up, trying to block out light and noise. I felt like everyone was staring at me. I hated that. We got checked in and finally taken back into a room in the ER. More waiting. Bobbye asked about my pain level on a scale of 1-10. I told her I was at a 32. No joke. After an hour or two we saw the Dr. on call. He ordered a CAT-scan, not an MRI, because he said the CAT-scan would be quicker and get us the results we needed faster. I just wanted something for the pain. Finally a nurse brought me in some meds. I think it brought the pain down to a 25 or so. I was just grateful for a bit of relief. Unfortunately it didn't last long. Hours later, more blood draws later, I was finally taken in for the CAT-scan. It was quick and painless. And then we waited some more. When the Dr. came back he said the blood work looked good and so did the CAT-scan. He was at a loss. He had no idea. He again said he didn't think it was Meningitis but decided he'd do the Lumbar Puncture just to rule it out since everything else was coming up negative. Having already experienced 3 epidurals, I was well aware of what to expect for this procedure. It didn't make me anymore comfortable with it however. I was at least reassured by the Dr. however because, as part of his internship he'd had to do hundreds of Lumbar Punctures. So, I wasn't dealing with an amateur here. The first thing that came out of his mouth after he'd gotten the needle and cord in place was, "Well, that's certainly interesting." Scott asked what he was doing and he explained that he was measuring the pressure of the spinal fluid. Scott explained that he couldn't see where the cut off was for my pressure. The Dr. said, "See the fluid spurting out the top? Her pressure is above the level of my manometer." He took 10cc out of my spinal fluid to be tested and then explained to us that normal pressure was 15-20. A manometer tops out at 55. My pressure was above that. What did this mean? He had no idea. He was going to page the Neurologist on call and talk it all over with him. We met with the Neurologist a while later who stated that though he did not know exactly what was wrong with me, he knew that I was very sick, and that I would not be leaving the hospital that night. And thus my darkest hours began.

It seems to me as I think back on my time in the hospital, that time moved at a snails pace. Everything was done slowly. Methodically. Precisely. I do have to give props to the attending who put my IV in at the hospital. He, the first one EVER, listened to me about my veins and but the IV in my hand. It was smooth, efficient, and nearly painless...which was good because I couldn't handle much more pain...or so I thought. I can't remember a lot about what went on Sunday through Wednesday. I do remember being surprised that I was still in the hospital...I'd never stayed in a hospital so long. I remember worrying briefly about my kids. And I remember a lot of blood draws and tests being done. I had 3 MRI's, 2 ultrasounds, and another CAT-scan. I remember being quite nervous about the MRI's because of their enclosed nature. The Dr. gave me something to take an edge off the nervousness. However, as usual, I found that the pain overruled any other emotion I had, so the nervousness
didn't last long. Everything came back negative. The MRI's looked good, the scans, the ultrasounds, the blood work, it was all clean. I was a mystery. The Neurologist brought in three other specialists to work with me. There was the Infectious Disease Specialist, the Rhumetology Specialist and Internal Medicine Specialists. Each time they'd come to visit they had these huge binders with the name WETSEL written on them. They were full of paper work, labs, results, etc, all about me. I felt like I belonged on the show House. All the Dr's were coming up blank. There best guess was Meningitis. They assumed a virus had gotten past the blood brain barrier and into the spinal column. This caused the increased pressure and intense headaches.

Up until Wednesday, I rarely opened my eyes. I could barely turn my head or lower it to my chest. I spoke only when I had to. Mostly I prayed. I prayed so many prayers that I'm sure the Lord grew weary of hearing from me. And when I wasn't praying, I was singing 'Abide With Me' over and over and over. I would not allow myself to grieve or to ask 'why me?' I knew the answer. I knew this was a trial for me and that there was no reason to ask. All I asked was that He be with me. I begged Him not to leave me alone. And He never did. These were my darkest hours. I knew I couldn't handle one more drop of pain. And with this thought came the sure knowledge that the Savior had suffered this for me. He had suffered this incredible, debilitating pain. This pain that made me unable to eat, that caused me to throw up regularly, that nearly blinded me. And here I sat, knowing I couldn't handle one more DROP of pain...but He, He handled my pain, and your pain, and all of our pains. Our physical, emotional, mental and spiritual pains. My testimony of the Atonement grew leaps and bounds in my darkest hours.


The Dr. ordered another Lumbar Puncture for Wednesday. The plan was to take out some of that excess spinal fluid and see if that would release some of the pressure and pain from my neck and head. Again, this Dr. was shocked by the level of my pressure, which was still up around 60. He drained off 32cc and sent it to be tested. Almost immediately I noticed a bit of a difference. I could open my eyes for one. I could also turn my head with just a little of discomfort. This was good news. But now the question was, how to keep the spinal fluid at an acceptable level. Spinal fluid replenishes itself just like most bodily fluids. So, my pressures would be back up shortly. If the levels kept coming up, there was talk of a possible shunt. The Dr's were also concerned about my liver count that continued to climb. A biopsy was to be scheduled for Thursday if they didn't see any changes in that count. This, of all the procedures, scared me the most. I really did not want a chunk of my liver cut out. Wednesday also marked the day that the Dr's told me if I didn't start eating food, I'd have to have a feeding tube. Really? Did they think I was honestly TRYING to starve myself? The mear smell of food made me want to vomit. But, I was bound and determined to try. After eating part of a turkey sandwich, and having it come right back up, I decided I'd try later:-) I was so tired of throwing up. Every time I did, the headache tripled in pain. Thankfully, after I'd rested all afternoon, and after having some relief (finally) from the latest Lumbar Puncture, I was able to get up and walk around the hospital floor. I was also able to eat most of a grilled cheese sandwich! It tasted like heaven:-) Things were looking up. Until that night when my IV became infiltrated and my hand grew to the size of a cantaloupe. They had to move the IV, which presented another problem. Where to put the IV when my veins were in such bad shape? I already had bruises up and down both arms and hands from where I'd been poked (including places they'd poked and failed and blown out veins). I told my RN that I was a hard stick and asked if she could send someone who was really good at placing the IV's. Let's just say that 3 nurses later, one of these nurses being the supposed 'best they had', 8 needle pokes, and 4 hours of time between midnight and four in the morning, the IV was finally placed. And my head felt like it was going to pop from the stress of it all. That was a really, really bad night.

Thursday brought good news however as we learned that my liver count had gone down just a bit. Luckily it was enough to stop the biopsy order. I was also able to eat a little more and avoid the feeding tube. And though my headache never went away, I could open my eyes and turn my head again. Thus began my slow recovery. I still had to have blood draws several times a day during the next few days as they continued to test for the cause of my afflictions. Some of the tests included HIV and TB. You can imagine my shock when the said they wanted to test for HIV. Wow.

By Sunday morning, the Dr's determined that I was well enough to go home. Hallelujah! I was discharged with the diagnosis of Viral Meningitis and Transminitis. I was also given about 40 medications to take:-) The Dr's warned me that while I was well enough to go home, I still had a long recovery ahead of me. I was just grateful to be leaving and going home to my family and children who I'd missed terribly. All in all, I got out of the hospital with about 32 blood draws, 3 MRI's, 2 Ultrasounds, 3 X-rays, 1 CAT scan, and 2 Lumbar Punctures...not to mention having been tested for over 100 viruses.

During my stay I knew things were bad. I knew that my family and loved ones were very worried. I learned some of my closest loved ones had made tentative preparations for taking over the care of my children should I pass on. But not until I was home and recovering did I learn of my moms, my aunts, and my sisters extreme fear that I was going to die. I was very aware that my life was in my Fathers hands while in the hospital. I was even aware that I might not ever leave the hospital. But I distinctly remember one night during my pain and haze, having the thought come to me "Choose to live." And I did. I tried my hardest to be positive in my mind. I tried not to question my Heavenly Father as to why this was happening to me. I tried not to whine and beg. I knew this trial was for me. I knew it was a test of my faith. And I knew, if my faith was strong enough, that my Savior would deliver me. He did.

It's been nearly 8 weeks now since my first symptoms. I wish I could say it's all been smooth sailing. I had to return to the hospital for a blood patch when we learned that the last Lumbar Puncture hadn't sealed properly. I also had to get back on the medication that makes everything I eat taste like metal and makes drinking carbonation impossible. About a week after I got home I lost some hearing in both my ears and got a terrible ringing noise instead. We learned that hearing loss is quite common with Meningitis patients. Thankfully most of the hearing has returned. Now if the ringing would just leave:-) And the headaches, though now on a much lesser scale, are still plaguing me. But even those are tolerable and something I'm simply learning to deal with. I won't complain. I feel so blessed. Our family has had so many angels who have stepped in and taken over where I couldn't. We had family in our home for the first month, taking care of our kids. We had meals brought in from the Relief Society for 5 weeks. We experienced the miracle of hundreds of prayers being offered up just for us. And we had others offer their time, talents, means, and skills to bless our lives. It truly has been life altering, life changing.

And so, out of my darkest hours, came a great deal of light. A great deal of understanding. A great deal of peace. A great deal of hope. I have felt my Saviors love. I have a much greater understanding of His sacrifice for us. I thank Him for sparing my life, for giving me another chance to prove myself to Him. He has saved me and I will sing His praises all my days.