My 6-Figure Vacation, Part II

Before we dive in, I realize I didn’t explain the title of these posts – ‘6 figure vacation’ is one of the twisted things I said last fall during this insane crisis. This one refers to the absurd numbers insurance bills would soon post as the ‘true’ cost of my experience. I was also lamenting the fact that my vacation caused me to miss my favorite season – fall lasted exactly one week. I went in and it was still summer; I came home, and it was almost winter.

Alright, where were we? Sunday night, I went to sleep with a Blood Baby but I guess no blood clot? (what do you mean they don’t check to see if the clot is gone?? Feels crazy, but ok?) The plan was Blood Baby surgery Tuesday and home soon after so we figured we could manage on our own with the help of our beloved Happy Hour Crew.

Thankfully Twinnie had more sense than us in that moment and searched flights late into Sunday evening. Monday morning, the Husband got the girls off to school and came to the hospital with news Twinnie would arrive by lunch time. From Connecticut to Chicago by noon?!! Is your mind boggled? Mine was! Especially when we learned that she left home in the pre-dawn hours and arrived at her connection so early they let her on an earlier flight! Instead of noon, she landed in Chicago mid-morning! I don’t know whose idea it was but Uncle D schlepped to ORD in the middle of work to fetch her and bring her to me.

Looking back, I don’t know what we were thinking! Of course, our marvelous friends were ready to do whatever we needed but taking care of someone else’s family is a tall order! Twinnie swooped in and took care of all of us. Her arrival was Monday’s main event – for once my body wasn’t actively trying to fail or fall apart. ICU life was becoming routine: rounds from all the docs – hematology, cardiology, pulmonology, surgery, etc. Plus labs, nurse checks – I mean, it’s intensive care – there’s a lot going on! The big change is that Twinnie’s presence meant the Husband could stay with me while Twinnie played cool auntie to her nieces.

Early Tuesday, I woke to see Dr. G, my surgeon, coming into the ICU. We had a 7 am surgery and still, he came in all smiles, in a suit and tie. Even better; he sat on the edge of my bed, held my hand and said, “I would have slept here last night if I could have.” It goes without saying, couldn’t have asked for a better, more dedicated doctor! The surgery was officially called a hematoma evacuation, but to us it’s the time they took out my Blood Baby.

Here’s where I get to share a little silliness – I’m ridiculous and entertaining while heavily medicated! It started right away – in pre-op, I lamented that the nurse had a better scrub cap than me. As they prepped, someone asked what kind of music I wanted during surgery. To which I replied, what do I care, I’ll be asleep! Right as I went under, I also told Dr G., hey do a good job – as if he was thinking of half-assing it that day, hah.

My best silliness came post-op and I think I was in the recovery area. I woke up from anesthesia going on about petting puppies. Only I couldn’t get my vowels right. So it came out, “I want… I want… I want… to putt a peppy. No! I want to… putt a peppy” – I’m told I said that over and over and OVER. Occasionally I even got the vowels in the right spots. The Husband was there and promised me a puppy to which I said but Kermit (our skittish cat) would die! The Husband assured me he’d make it work (in reality, we did not get a puppy – I don’t really want that responsibility)!

“Big Ole” – in any context, for any reason whatever – ER

“You wouldn’t believe how much this medicine costs”– Cardiology

“You have an impressive family history” – Pulmonology

Before I tell you the next funny story, it bears knowing that at some point I was started on the blood thinner Heparin. The reason you need to know this is that this is a drug that requires constant monitoring. Remember those labs I mentioned earlier – in the first 2 days, there were times when phlebotomy (the blood drawing peeps) showed up every 2 hours! My nurses worked hard and made it so I only got stabbed every 4 hours – better, but still a lot! A million stabs and 6 months later, I still have bleached skin and marks from the alcohol wipes and bandages. Not to mention traces of a fist sized bruise on my arm from a failed stick and resulting burst blood vessel. Ugh.

Ok, that’s your context. My time in recovery and the puppy talk wrapped up and I was delivered back to my ICU room. I was still pretty groggy, so I don’t remember any of the visuals – I don’t even recall seeing any of what I’m about to tell you! There’s this one phlebotomist who scrubs my arm really hard. I mean super hard – like dirty crusty pan kind of scrubbing. So I guess he walked in. I either saw or knew just by his voice and alerted my sister to the fact that he’s the guy I don’t like. Anyway, equipped with this information, she scrutinized his every move. I think what happens next is virtually simultaneous – he inserted the needle, I screamed out FUUUUUUUUCK, and Twinnie said oh, I think I feel a little faint.

The next few minutes are aflutter with activity – I heard several nurses rushing in; I can piece together that they helped my sister from the right side of my bed to the left corner of the room into a chair. They plied her with juice, cookies, a wet washcloth, etc. During all this, I can only guess the tech finished up his torture, wrapped up my arm and left. One nurse suggested taking Twinnie to the ER, just to make sure she’s ok. Time passes and it’s said again. At that point I piped up and I shouted, “No. No ER! She’s just being an attention seeker!! [pause] Like our brother!!”

Quick, check your face – are you cringing?? Yep, that would be a normal response, but my sister later declared it the funniest thing I’ve ever said! I have no idea where the Husband was during this event, but he walked back in and said, “every time I walk out of here someone almost dies.” And he probably silently vowed never to leave again!

The rest of the week was mercifully quiet. About damn time, I think! I did improve, albeit slowly and not without hiccups – like occasional fainting and one hell of a panic attack. Not to mention I could hardly move on my own. I was terrified about leaving the ICU let alone going home. Who would make sure I stay alive??? How could I survive without a heart monitor and a blood pressure cuff?? I couldn’t even watch TV. I found the noise tiresome instead of pleasantly distracting. I was in a fog and just sort of existing. One evening a doctor came to check on me and I was alone. When he asked how I felt, I bluntly said I’m cranky and uncomfortable. I still don’t know what he thought of that level of candor!

Dr. H met me when I was particularly punchy – at the end of our conversation I asked why he didn’t look like his ID picture (?? what is he even supposed to say???)

Nurse Karly – great girl, but this is a small town – the first time I met her was at a NYE party in sequins. This time, I’m in the ICU and she’s giving me a sponge bath.

Nadia – the tech who did my 6 month follow-up Echo last month? She freaking remembers me from the ER – as the girl who wanted donuts. Even in a pandemic I’m still memorable!

The Husband and I were uncomfortable (read: terrified) with the idea of me being alone. So much so that preparing to go home required a babysitting plan. That’s really what we called it – if ever the Husband wasn’t with me, someone needed to watch me! When Friday arrived and they were prepping me for discharge, I suggested he go take a little time off before I got home. The lucky first sitter, Uncle D, showed up from work, in a suit and chatted with me while the Husband headed home for a few minute’s reprieve. When the Husband first called to set up this plan, Uncle D said that he (and the family) would be available for helping get me home and “general hovering.” OH MY WORD – till he said it, I didn’t realize that’s what I wanted AND what I needed. After a week in a hospital bed, away from my kids and hooked up to machines, I just wanted humans around me.

Saturday, after a morning of visitors, Uncle D brought the family, including his parents and sister, my faux family. And they didn’t come empty handed – no, they came with flowers, chocolates, and a recliner. Literally. You know, what everyone brings at a time like this! While I sat in a fog, they rearranged the room and I got all sorts of hovering. Remember, this is the same couple who shuttled Twinnie to and from the airport back in Part I. Jenn is also the one who, with my sister, alerted our circle of friends and launched a dinner plan for the next few weeks. As if that’s not enough, she also rearranged her own schedule to allow the Husband to work a little. I tell you, there’s just something incredibly special about a family that brings you into the fold so sincerely like this. To say we are lucky would be trite but it’s yet another moment where it’s hard to imagine what we’ve done to deserve such friends.

Before we wrap up this saga, we do need to talk about Twinnie. This girl. I mean, I know she’s family, but she threw her life into neutral and hopped a flight mere hours after we called. Although, she did say I picked a perfect week to need her – a week earlier or later she would have been on work travel! Even so, she spent my surgery on a work call, only hanging up when my surgeon came out to give an update. Her colleagues and clients were understanding, of course, but when one guy tried to tell her they could skip their call, Twinnie replied – my sister cares about the environment and would be really upset if we don’t get this bill passed! (She’s not wrong!)

When she was at home, she took Auntie duty seriously – playing driver to the girls, managing homework. If the Husband was with me in the hospital, she handled dinners, baths, etc. Knowing her, she probably also cleaned my house! Keep in mind, Twinnie did all this in addition to spending most of the day at the hospital and taking care of the Husband too by reminding him to rest, eat, or at least get out of the hospital to clear his head.

Here are just a few of the ways she took care of me that week:

• Washing my hair – they have these shampoo shower caps that don’t require rinsing!
• Listening intensely to every doctor who wandered in – I cannot say enough how useful it is to have another person listening to all the doctor speak and jargon.
• Reminding me to eat or drink – I had finally gotten rid of my IV – her directives surely kept me from getting a new IV!

It goes without saying we absolutely could not have managed this bonkers week without my sister to handle much of the adulting for us. And grateful feels too small a word to say for what it means to have her and our friends keep our little world afloat. Together, they stepped into so quickly and seamlessly to care for us throughout the week. In addition to meals and helping with the girls, they handled a PTO project, played proxy at Parent Teacher Conferences, sent flowers, and who knows what else.

Finally, the moral of the story? Adulting can get damn ugly and we have an incredible posse to help us. Oh, and my body is very uninterested in following general guidelines of what’s normal – I’m in a 1% club nobody wants to be a member of!