Monday, October 10, 2016

Hospital Thoughts - Day Five




It's all Dr House over here with a clusterfuck of neurologists and dermatologists and possibly allergists and rheumatologists all trying to figure out the Great Hive Seizure Mystery. Great minds don't think alike, at all, and everyone has a different suggestion for what ails Sophie. There will be more tests, and I'm getting just a teensy tinesy bit sick of all of it. Sophie has acquired a urinary tract infection while here which all conceded was hospital-borne. Charming.She is now on an antibiotic for that. She isn't getting any more Vimpat, so I guess at the very least we shall be skipping out of here on only one anticonvulsant in over eight years. That the one anticonvulsant is the benzo Onfi that we rather laboriously weaned her partially is a major bummer, but I'm not going to complain. There's still the hive thing, and the dermatologist who was literally the only physician that's appeared who's older than I am suggested that it was probably coincidence, I sighed and felt that momentary panic that is probably PTSD but has some validity as the real terror that once again, no one knows. Methusaleh had a six-pack of residents and students who were terribly sweet and earnest. One even asked me if I'd read Ann Fadiman's When The Spirit Catches You, and I almost told her that I read it probably before she was born and that despite its reputation for being culturally competent before that PC expression was even invented, I still feel it was biased toward the almighty Western medical system. Instead I told her that it's a beautiful book and smiled. Methusaleh talked about all kinds of things that hives can come from, and, frankly, I started to get a little nervous because it's all so --  well -- tentative and hypothetical. All suggestions are floated to me, sitting like some kind of dowager or dragon queen in a putty-colored fabric chair with a magnificent view of the mountains to my right, out of reach.I'm a dragon queen with a Bachelor of Arts degree in both English and French literature. I'm trying to finish a Norwegian novel called The Birds by Tarjei Vesaas but have felt so distracted the last few days that it's all I can do to ask why the food services department doesn't carry fresh fruit and only canned. My tail is curled up under the chair and a copy of Real Simple lies open on the purple plastic footstool to a recipe of Polenta Bake with Shrimp. But that's only a decoy as I'm actually plotting an aerial escape out the window with Sophie under my arm. Our cave is glinting there, under the setting sun and that long, purple cloud.

17 comments:

  1. Oh, Elizabeth. You are, indeed, in an alternate reality. Don't forget that a real world exists out there and that you and Sophie will soon rejoin the weird world of LA and California and a country teetering on the political edge where insanity meets reality meets Saturday Night Live. Love you and believe in you.
    Verna

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  2. I think when you do escape, the mermaid needs a trip to the ocean to set it all right.

    Max has had hives through the years, and for him it got the final diagnosis of EoE... Eosinophilic esophagitis. Not saying that's the answer for you, but might be worth googling at least. I hope you're all out soon!

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  3. I am having flashbacks just reading this. Try to avoid calling any of them Dr. Howser. If you can.

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  4. Every one of us is with you and Sophie there. Don't forget that, dear Dragon Queen.

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  5. I don't know what to say but I want to let you know I'm here. Always. Love.

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  6. Ahhhhh. 5 days... about my limit! Sorry they're duped. It's hard to have the kid no one can figure out. I hope by tomorrow hives are down, the antibiotic is working and you are close to heading out of there. If the ONFI works--- great! No regrets. Just move forward. Love and hugs. ML

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  7. Can't wait for you guys to get the hell out of there. Seriously.

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  8. Brave woman! I send you much supportive thoughts. I hope very much that you can go home soon with improvements all round.

    Whenever I am in hospital (far too often for my liking) I turn into a bland person, full of thank yous and humble smiles, never ever admitting to having a tad of medical knowledge regarding my condition. I happens just like that, maybe something in the air. But next time, I may bring a cook book.

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  9. Hope you have some access to decent food there, or someone to bring it in to you. Wishing you wings to keep you above the fray and to lift you and Sophie out of there soon. x0 N2

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  10. May today be the day you get to bring your baby dragon home.

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  11. Hope you both get to go home soon. Wish I could send you all my strength as yours must surely be sorely depleted. Holding you all in my thoughts.
    xoxo
    Barbara

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  12. Aach. Sigh. 'Probably coincidence' is not really good enough.

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  13. Elizabeth -
    Just keep writing - My heart and thoughts are with you and Sophie. Sending love -

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  14. Dreams of busting out of that joint tell me you are very much the Queen Dragon. Somehow the fact that they should tremble in your presence hasn't dawned on them yet. Hospitals turn everything surreal. My money is always on you. When something goes wonky, like hives, I first suspect stress. Healing kisses to you and Sophie. xo

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  15. Thinking of you, Dragon Lady! I wish I was there to feed you my organic produce I'm growing. Hugs to you and Sophie.
    Chris Haddad

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  16. So, is Sophie better? When you go home soon, which appears to be case, does it appeAr that she'll be better than when you had her admitted? I hope so or at least no worse

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