We begin on Friday morning with a MIGRAINE HEADACHE AND SEVERE NAUSEA. The migraine hits first, starts as a slight discomfort behind my eyeballs, and escalates quickly to a blinding, pounding, relentless pain that only subsides slightly if I use both hands to press on my temples and beg Sam to block out every possible source of light in the family room. The nausea strikes shortly thereafter. By then I’m so fucking miserable all I can do is lie around in a pitch black room, squeeze my head and moan … with a yellow plastic bowl wedged under my chin. For hours and hours and hours.
By 7 p.m. I still have enough functioning neurons to let a thought pop into my brain … the migraine and nausea are SIDE EFFECTS from a new prescription that I started taking last week for burning bladder spasms. I power up my Mac and confirm it on WebMD, where Ditropan’s side effects are listed as: drowsiness, headache, dizziness, nausea, vomiting, blurred vision, eye pain, itchy skin, fast heartbeat. I HAVE THEM ALL. Every stinking one of them!
Actually, that’s just about the same time I begin VOMITING PROFUSELY, which isn’t easy to do when you’re reclining in bed because it doesn’t end up in your yellow plastic bowl, it ends up everywhere else. Poor Sam was on clean-up duty.
As soon as I finish with the previous activity (puking), Sam calls the hospice. They send over a prescription for ONDANSETRON to stop the vomiting. It works, thank God, but nothing stops the migraine … not even Hydrocodone.
By midnight the pain in my head subsides a little. I SLEEP SOUNDLY for a few hours.
My migraine comes back Saturday morning, so Sam calls the hospice again. This time they send a prescription for SUMATRIPTAN and an on-call weekend R.N. (Stella) to check my vital signs, observe my skin color, and ask me some questions to find out if I’m confused, daft or delirious (I’m none of the above). In the meantime, it makes my eyeballs hurt to spend any substantial time looking at my iMac monitor so I watch a great movie on TV (with very low volume) instead: Virginia City (1940) starring Errol Flynn, Miriam Hopkins and Randolph Scott. Humphrey Bogart (inset) is miscast as a Mexican bandit with a French/Swedish accent (seriously).
By 7 p.m. I still have enough functioning neurons to let a thought pop into my brain … the migraine and nausea are SIDE EFFECTS from a new prescription that I started taking last week for burning bladder spasms. I power up my Mac and confirm it on WebMD, where Ditropan’s side effects are listed as: drowsiness, headache, dizziness, nausea, vomiting, blurred vision, eye pain, itchy skin, fast heartbeat. I HAVE THEM ALL. Every stinking one of them!
Actually, that’s just about the same time I begin VOMITING PROFUSELY, which isn’t easy to do when you’re reclining in bed because it doesn’t end up in your yellow plastic bowl, it ends up everywhere else. Poor Sam was on clean-up duty.
As soon as I finish with the previous activity (puking), Sam calls the hospice. They send over a prescription for ONDANSETRON to stop the vomiting. It works, thank God, but nothing stops the migraine … not even Hydrocodone.
By midnight the pain in my head subsides a little. I SLEEP SOUNDLY for a few hours.
My migraine comes back Saturday morning, so Sam calls the hospice again. This time they send a prescription for SUMATRIPTAN and an on-call weekend R.N. (Stella) to check my vital signs, observe my skin color, and ask me some questions to find out if I’m confused, daft or delirious (I’m none of the above). In the meantime, it makes my eyeballs hurt to spend any substantial time looking at my iMac monitor so I watch a great movie on TV (with very low volume) instead: Virginia City (1940) starring Errol Flynn, Miriam Hopkins and Randolph Scott. Humphrey Bogart (inset) is miscast as a Mexican bandit with a French/Swedish accent (seriously).
I should add here that my OXYGEN LEVEL has been extremely low for the last few days — in the low- to mid-80s — even though I’ve been using a cannula and an oxygen generator 24/7. Sam increased the generator setting to “5 liters,” so I’m receiving the maximum output now.
For several days I’ve also had an issue with an unnaturally LOW BODY TEMPERATURE that’s been hovering steadily between 94.5° and 95.2°. When it drops yesterday to 93.7°, Sam is justifiably freaked out and takes my temperature a second time with our “backup” thermometer … which displayed the exact same reading. The hospice says I’m “severely hypothermic.” (Other than feeling chilled more than usual I have no other symptoms.)
SLEEP IS GOOD, and I finally conk out last night (Saturday) around 11 p.m. after an hour or two of nausea with a plastic bowl under my chin. It’s the latest “look” in sleepwear from Vomitorium Fashion Week.
Today is Sunday — St. Patrick’s Day — and I wake at 10 a.m. with no migraine and no trace of nausea. Yee-haw! Happy to finally eat a meal again, I enjoy rye bread and butter for breakfast with a glass of iced iced tea. Minutes later, Sam announces that our HOSPICE SOCIAL WORKER, cutie-pie Theresa, is coming over at 12:30 for an unplanned visit. (We love Theresa.) The rest of the day will be devoted to three activities: 1) sleep; 2) binge-watching ”Bar Rescue” reruns; and 3) eating things. Not necessarily in that order.
For several days I’ve also had an issue with an unnaturally LOW BODY TEMPERATURE that’s been hovering steadily between 94.5° and 95.2°. When it drops yesterday to 93.7°, Sam is justifiably freaked out and takes my temperature a second time with our “backup” thermometer … which displayed the exact same reading. The hospice says I’m “severely hypothermic.” (Other than feeling chilled more than usual I have no other symptoms.)
SLEEP IS GOOD, and I finally conk out last night (Saturday) around 11 p.m. after an hour or two of nausea with a plastic bowl under my chin. It’s the latest “look” in sleepwear from Vomitorium Fashion Week.
Today is Sunday — St. Patrick’s Day — and I wake at 10 a.m. with no migraine and no trace of nausea. Yee-haw! Happy to finally eat a meal again, I enjoy rye bread and butter for breakfast with a glass of iced iced tea. Minutes later, Sam announces that our HOSPICE SOCIAL WORKER, cutie-pie Theresa, is coming over at 12:30 for an unplanned visit. (We love Theresa.) The rest of the day will be devoted to three activities: 1) sleep; 2) binge-watching ”Bar Rescue” reruns; and 3) eating things. Not necessarily in that order.
We’re all caught up now, and it’s time to get some sleep. Good night, thank you, and “yo” from the Alamo!
No comments:
Post a Comment