Clearly, I Can’t Be Trusted

Photo by Jose Goulao, used under Creative Commons

As in, I can’t be trusted to be alone with my toddler for all of two hours without winding up in the ER. Again.

Friday I told you guys about my first ER visit, which was about three or four weeks ago. After rehoming those two adorable snugglers-slash-allergen-launchers, my breathing improved quickly. Unfortunately, I was still battling the part where Baby Boy is large and in charge and has his feetsies wedged up in my lungs a good portion of the time. And then all of us got some nasty cold or upper respiratory infection that lasted a good week and a half to two weeks. It is safe to say that this was not fun, and it also did not do anything good for my lung issues.

Monday last week I woke up in the middle of the night with an asthma attack, which is quite painful and scary, and I used my albuterol rescue inhaler. About ten minutes later, all was good. I’ve been allowed to be more active the two weeks, so that day and the next I was up and about and trying to get back at least a little closer to my prior activity, caretaking, and housekeeping levels. I still wasn’t anywhere near “normal” for me, but I tried! And I felt much better than I had in a weeks. This was great, because it meant that the Hubbles could go back into the office and my sister could be at home with her own kids instead of watching hers and mine. So Wednesday was my first day on my own again in quite a long time.

Of course, first thing that morning I had another painful asthma attack. I took my meds again and then… nothing. The pain didn’t stop and it was difficult to breath, let alone move. After 45 minutes, I called the doctor’s office because I didn’t know what the heck to do. I had already used the rescue inhaler, so what else could I do? They told me that I might need a nebulizer treatment, and I needed to get myself down to the ER. Hubbles had been gone for all of two freaking hours, and there I was calling him up, scared and in pain, to tell him that he needed to get home RIGHT NOW so he could take me to the ER. Awesome.

By the time we got there, I was getting very light-headed. There were some moments in the car when I thought I might pass out, and again walking across the parking lot I wasn’t sure if I’d stay concious. My chest was really hurting by the time I got to the admissions desk. Silver lining: you totally don’t have to wait to get admitted if you can barely breath or make a coherent sentence at the ER and you tell them you’re having chest pains. You will also find yourself sitting in a wheelchair before you realize there’s one behind you, and seconds later you are up on the exam bed in a room while four or five different medical staffers are hooking up all kinds of stickies and wires and giving you oxygen and asking you the same questions over and over. Just to be clear: this is not fun. After they had me stabilized, I cracked a joke about being unable to be left alone without needing to go to the ER and Hubbles opined that the next time I need attention, I should just ask for it. One more example of why I love that bastard. Sometimes you really just need a damned laugh so you don’t cry!

Photo by Pewari Naan, used under Creative Commons

By the end of our little outting, I’d had a chest x-ray to make sure I hadn’t gotten pneumonia while I’d been sick in the days prior (negative), a nebulizer treatment, a new inhaler (mine was two years old, and I keep forgetting that they, y’know, expire), and a prescription for a preventative inhaler. I’ve been on a different version of the same type of med before, and they definitely help. Unfortunately, they really don’t like putting preggos on them unless they need to, since there are some risks (especially during the first trimester). They chose one that they felt was safe, and assured me that this far along I shouldn’t have to worry about any negative side effects to Baby Boy. Obviously, oxygen deprevation from not having my asthma under control would be more dangerous to him.

So at the end of the day, Baby Boy was fine, momma was fine, Pixie got to have an impromptu playdate with her Auntie, and Hubbles was even more frazzled.

And then momma spent most of the following day (Thursday) in bed with a killer migraine and nausea. Friday brought my regular OB appointment, which pretty much went like this:

Yup, not in labor yet, but Baby’s head is wedged on in there so that explains all the other pain down there. Oh, and your blood pressure is a bit… high. Yeah… we’re gonna need to do some blood work to check for pre-eclampsia.

I then spent the afternoon trying not to stroke the $%^& out, and got my totally normal, reassuring results before the end of the day.

And then I called my primary care doc’s office to put in a request to increase my anti-anxiety med dosage, ’cause, seriously? There was a threshold of just how much I can handle, and we are so beyond over that.