Posted on Dec 14, 2009 in Blog |
I start up Stephen’s car – there is ICE everywhere . . . ICE? Yep.
Jeff can’t find his set of car keys. We spend 20 minutes trying to find them. He parked behind Stephen. I start up my car thinking we can move them around, who knows.
Jeff finds his keys, starts the car, Stephen can pull out of the driveway with no complications.
“Don’t forget to turn off your bathroom light before you leave this morning,” he says.
“I know, I know!” I reply. I hurumph, frustrated at his ‘reminder.’
I’m trying to get Reagan, our dog, in the crate because he is still in some pain from the dog that attacked him last week. He doesn’t want to go into the crate. As I am trying to get him in the crate, Jeff calls and says the computer server isn’t working, the internet isn’t working . . . he wants me to talk about it on the phone while Ralphy, our other dog is trying to get to the treats that I put in the crate for Reagan.
“Jeff, I’ll be up there in five minutes.”
Dog locked in crate. Husband off the phone. Coat on. Purse on arm. Go back to bedroom and get the cell phone off the charger and into purse. Heading to the door.
Have to pee. Purse down. Coat off. Pee. Dog barking to get out of crate. Ralphy opens the front door and sits at the bathroom door. I didn’t make it in time. Damn this Lyme.
Change pants. Coat on, purse on, drive to office.
Computers still not working. Well, some are and some are not. Some are turning on, some are not. On the phone saying, “I run an internet company. I have no internet. Yes, I would like to be moved up the ladder for customer service.”
Text from my son: Rash is worse. I feel and look horrible. Want to come home.
Yesterday’s rash was a small line on one arm. This morning, he looked fine.
He’s missed a lot of school with rare second bout of mono, strep, sinus infection and ear infection. Argh, ok, come home.
Still on hold with internet provider.
Rebooting all computers.
An appt arrives at the office to meet with me.
Phone is ringing.
We sit down to start talking.
Son walks into office. He is COVERED in a rash on every inch of his body.
Is he having an allergic reaction to antibiotics? How long do I have before his airway starts to close?
Sorry, meeting over, I can’t find doctor’s phone number. We drive across to doctor and say, “No appt, but two hours ago, he looked nothing like this.”
Receptionist looks up and we are escorted immediately into exam room.
Text: “What kind of tape for care packages?” We had a packing party for the troops this weekend and ran out of tape. Did I mention we had 38 people show up when only 16 had signed up?
Text back: “strongest tape they have.”
“Are we sure this is a reaction to the antibiotic?”
“Yes, but he is also running a fever and his tonsils have enlarged again. He needs to see an ENT. Would you like me to call around and see if we can get him in somewhere?”
“Yes . . . no,” I stutter. I’m officially overwhelmed.
“He can only be seen at Children’s hospital because of his tracheomalacia. You’ll need to call over there to the ENT department and ask for him to be seen. He saw George Zalzal 14 years ago. . .” I give the heavy sigh of frustration . . . . “they won’t be able to see him today . . .”
The doctor comes in to check what the nurse practitioner has told him . . . .
“Wow.” Not so good when a doctor comes in and says that. My stomach is churning.
I smile and say, “So what do we do?”
He replies, “Ordinarily, we would treat with steroids, but with his Lyme disease, I’m not comfortable treating him any further.”
Ok, I give credit for telling me when he’s reached his limit, but I also need direction . . .
“Call your Lyme doctor and ask him how he wants to proceed.”
I dial Dr. M, my Lyme specialist, who happens to be in an initial consult with my DAD.
I leave a message for him about Stephen. . . .
I drive to Safeway to get Benadryl. I drive home and Stephen takes the Benadryl. He looks miserable.
I drive back to the office.
“Hello, it’s 10:30 and we still have no internet!”
25 minutes later, we have internet, our server is working, and we can access our files.
Dr. M calls to tell me about Dad . . . he fainted twice while getting blood drawn. It’s a family talent of ours . . . I fainted during a contraction while giving birth to Stephen while lying flat on my back. Yes, it can be done and my sister, father and I have all done it multiple times.
I offer to go pick up Dad so no one has to worry about him driving. Dr. M agrees that this is a good idea and says he will strongly encourage Dad to let me pick him. He states twice that he will check Dad over before he releases him from the office.
I ask, “Did you get my message about Stephen?”
Doc orders steroids, explaining that the most important issue is to reduce reaction to meds. Lyme comes later . . . literally, Stephen has an appointment with him in two days.
Dad drives himself home, much to the frustration of all family members. By the way, Dad probably has Bartonella, a co-infection of Lyme disease.
I know, some people think I am seeing Lyme in everyone I talk to . . . on the intake form, where it says, “How do you see your symptoms progressing?” Dad writes, “? I don’t know. I’m here because my daughter made me come see you . . .” He and Dr. M had a good chuckle over that.
Every single person that I have suggested be tested has been diagnosed with Lyme. So yes, I am seeing it a lot, but this goes to show that Lyme is being dramatically under diagnosed . . . .
Maybe I am evangelical about this whole Lyme thing, but I want to prevent others from going through the years and years of misdiagnoses and incorrect testing . . . .
2 pm to 5 pm
I actually get work done with a working computer, internet access. Life is good.
Drive back to Safeway to pick up prescriptions, pick up milk that I forgot during first trip. They don’t have all the meds. Need to come back tomorrow after 2 pm.
In the checkout aisle and realize that I never took my own Lyme meds at 12:30, 2 pm, or 4 pm.
In the car, I take my meds with the quart of Egg Nog I bought.
Home. Can’t eat for at least an hour until my meds have been digested.
I left the bathroom light on – just like Jeff thought I might . . . .
Dinner choices: lunchmeat, chili, gluten free frozen dinner.
I choose the gluten free frozen dinner.
Not a good choice.
Today wasn’t necessarily BAD; just really, really frustrating. That seems to be my pattern. God is showing me daily how little in my life I actually have control over . . . so I keep rolling . . . and thank God that I can laugh at the insanity . . . . and laugh with my friends.
Our tree isn’t up yet, no decorations out (except for the nutcrackers that I never let Jeff take down last year), a third of my cards out . . . it will just be a different Christmas this year. And that’s ok. It is what it is. . . .