The hospital is not my favorite place to be. But, sometimes sick people have to go to the hospital. And this one time, after my first red bag chemo sesh, I had to go to the hospital, because it happened. I got the fever.
Why is a fever a problem? Well, my understanding is that after that mean red chemo my white blood cells can tank. So, the protocol is that I go in for a shot the day after chemo to tell my bone marrow to move it move it. But that shot can take up to 10 days to work. In the in between, little bitty wittle itsy bitsy germs can get in and my body can’t fight them. So when I get a fever, I’m already like, whoa.
So, my instructions after chemo are to drink a lot of water, take care of myself, eat as much as I can, and call if I get a fever.
So the Wednesday afternoon post chemo, (6 days later), after not having much energy, (but, that happens to cancerish people, right?) I said to Adam, check my temp. It’s prob nothing but let’s just check. Shit. The facts are all a blur to me, but it was a fever, above that magic 100.4 number.
We pushed fluids. I got yelled at for the clothes I was wearing. I was shivering like crazy, so I was reluctant to agree with taking off my sweatshirt, but I did. We called the doctor. We waited for the doctor. We were told something about the doctor on call. Something about the doctor on call saying to take Tylenol and sleep through the night and get to my 11 am appointment with my doctor on Thursday. That was the goal. That was the plan. Seemed ok. Plan B Go to the ER if shit goes awry because doctors don’t work all night, except there, allegedly.
So good news, I made it through the night that night. Adam kept a close watch on me. Fluids were puuuushed. It’s hard to get good sleep when you push fluids. Although, peeing feels like a sign of health, maybe? Anyway, the morning arrived and Caleb went to school and I continued to rest and push fluids. Since I was intermittently sweating my brains out and shivering throughout the night I thought I should wash up before going to the doctor. I know better than to take a shower in the house alone when I’m so sick, so I waited until Adam came home, don’t worry. The shower was a raging success…I got clean. I felt bad enough that I asked my husband to help me out of the shower. As a team we dried me off and wrapped me up nice so I wouldn’t be extra cold. I said something, like, “whew that takes a lot outta you! I’m gonna sit down. Can you get me some water?” I was feeling UNwell. Then I made the good choice to sit on a stool so I could lean against the toilet if I felt a little woozy. Then, I felt a little woozy. I yelled, “Help!” Adam came to my aide in time, I said something like, “I need to lay down,” he got me down to the floor, there was intense shivering, more fluids were pushed, my husband called the doctor and the doctor said, go to the hospital.
Wait. What. No. No. We have an appointment. Why on earth am I going to the ER when I have an appointment with MY oncologist? And it’s not the middle of the night, so why on earth do I have to ER this illness? This is not ok with me. I’m sick, shouldn’t my doctor see me?
I told the doctor that I would not be going to the ER. I explained to him the conditions of the ER, how I’d seen the horrors with my own eyes, and why I would not be bringing my sick ass to that den of diseases.
Thirty minutes later we got to the ER (a different one than the one I had been critiquing) having been told by my doctor that he would call ahead and get the process going. With my fever still going strong, they found me a bed in the ER with sheets between me and the next guy (and his germs). Why does everyone in the ER have to talk about their diarrhea so loudly? After about 9 hours and one unfortunate meatloaf incident, I was admitted to a room in the hospital. Or, as I like to call it, my 3 nights on the pole.
For 3 nights I was attached to an IV pole. Fluids were being PUSHED. I was given IV antibiotics and at one point I even got a blood transfusion. I had wires coming out from everywhere. I wasn’t allowed to eat raw fruits or vegetables. I was sick AF. It was a RIDE. And to make it all just stupider, I was peeing like, every 40 minutes, BECAUSE, you know, FLUIDS. And, because everything has to get stu.pid.er., they were collecting my pee to chart my ins and outs. So, there I was, on my pole, unplugging and replugging my pole every 40 minutes. And, every 2 times I peed I had to call the desk and ask for my nursing team to check my pee hat and chart it and dump it out. All day. All night. I was told I pee a lot. Thank you, yes, I know. Hospitals, they are not places of rest.
Between the fluids and the peeing and the fever and the neutropenia, thanks chemo, I had some bits of fun during my 3 nights on the pole. One afternoon my husband and I were given permission to take my pole on a walk. We turned it into a fancy date, complete with a romantic hand held walk with views of the city and a chocolate pudding picnic in a hidden courtyard. OOooLaLalalala.
Also fun, the people you meet in the hospital. The same team of nurses and caregivers who came in every few minutes/hours to check my vitals and my pee also laughed at my jokes. I love a captive audience. One nurse sang old Sublime songs with me, another gave me book recs and let me teach her about the Libby app. They told me things about themselves and they shared their knowledge and experiences with me. The nursing team at UCLA is full of smart, talented, creative, hard working, good humored people, mostly women, who made my 3 nights in a cage (the alternative name for this) manageable, and I’ll say it, at times kind of fun. And I hope to never go back. Ever.