The month of February really left its mark on our hearts this year, and not because of Valentine's Day.
First, we started the month out by helping the boys in their continued battle against the dreaded Giardia bug. We racked up many sleepless night and our boys had quite the uphill battle towards recovery. Then, we miscarried another baby. It was a profound loss for us and particularly painful for me. We had a few other bumps in the road during the days that followed which were also quite difficult to overcome. And then two days ago something unbelievably horrific happened.
I'll be the first to admit that I am not the biggest fan of the Doctor's office. While I appreciate their healing hands, I am always put off by the crowded waiting rooms and the endless drug pushing at the conclusion of each visit. My last physical was five years ago which I know is truly inexcusable. This week I finally took myself to a Doctor five days after my miscarriage for a long overdue physical. My visit included blood work, a full physical and a complete patient history including a list of all my allergies (food/medicine/pollens).
While at the office the Doctor noticed a few swollen glands in my throat. She prescribed a pain killer and an antibiotic which J picked up for me the following day. I took my first dose at around 2PM and as time went on, I began to feel a bit flushed. I assumed this was due to my body's hormone readjustment after the lost pregnancy and so continued with the medicine. At 8PM I took another dose of the antibiotic and things started to happen.
My hands, lips, feet, and face began to swell. My breathing became a bit ragged at times. An overwhelming headache and a sharp pain in my abdomen started up. Then I began convulsing.
My arms, legs, and shoulders began shaking uncontrollably. I felt a horrible sense of panic wash over me. J phoned the on call Doctor and told him about my reaction to the medication they had prescribed. We were told to go to an ER immediately. We phoned my parents to come stay with the boys while they slept and thankfully my Dad came over right away.
As we started off down the road to the hospital I began to feel my chest and throat tighten. An unbelievable pressure began building and I could hear my heat pounding. We entered the ER and it didn't take long for a nurse to assess our situation. We were whisked off into the back room and suddenly found ourselves in a sea of nurses and ER doctors. They put me on a stretcher and immediately hooked me up to an IV. Forty five minutes passed. Several drugs, oxygen, and a few rounds of nausea later, I felt myself coming back. A wonderful male nurse stood by my side and helped me breathe while we waited for the new drugs to finish taking effect. He wasted no time in telling us the severity of our situation. My heart rate had hovered at around 185 bpm, my blood pressure was through the roof, and when we first entered the ER I was minutes away from cardiac arrest and almost certain death. I clearly understood two facts. First, my father saved my life. He came straight to our house when we called him. If he had delayed even a few extra minutes, I could have died in J's arms on the way to the hospital. Secondly, someone had made a big mistake at the Doctor's office.
During my visit the day before, the Doctor questioned me about my medical history. I quite clearly told her about my allergy to Amoxicillin, which she wrote on my chart. We have a copy of the chart and it is labeled ALLERGIES: AMOXICILLIN.
Little Death Pills
When J brought home my medication the day after my visit I noticed that the antibiotic prescribed was called Amox- several digits and letters. I didn't think twice about taking something our Doctor had prescribed. Oh what blind faith we put in little orange bottles of medicine. We learned at the hospital that the drug was in fact, pure Amoxicillin. I don't know if our Doctor forgot to read my chart before prescribing the medication or if the Pharmacy exchanged her original prescription for the Amoxicillin, but I do know that the mistake could have cost me my life.
The past few days have been a rough recovery. They warned me in the ER that the detox process would be less than pleasant. Sure enough the sheer exhaustion of the event weighed heavily on me the first 12 hours home, then I was overtaken by the most horrible rash I have ever experienced. LITERALLY head to toe. I couldn't move. I could not touch my children and they could not touch me. I lay in pain for twenty four solid hours, waiting for the ER prescribed steroids to kick in and give some relief to the burning pain beneath my skin.
No doubt about it, February was one hellish month. I lost a baby and then almost lost my own life days later. My family could have been planning my funeral today. Reflecting on all that has happened in one week of my life makes me feel trampled and a bit lost. But I also feel comforted and loved.
My husband picked up my load this past week. He held me while I cried over our lost child, he helped out with the children while I grieved, he took me to the Doctor when I felt ill, he picked up my medicine and then he took me to the ER, then he took care of the children once more while I lay bed ridden and broken. He brought me water and smoothed back my hair. He slept in a chair next to my bed at the hospital. He cleaned the house and made the sure the boys ate healthy meals. He encouraged me. He stood by me in sickness, the same way he does when we are in good health.
My parents stepped in and also helped with the children. My mother brought food and did our laundry, my sister came to help with the children, my best friend came and watched a movie with me. A dear friend from a far distance sent a package of love that brought tears to my eyes and reminded me how close we still are in spirit. My in laws called and wrote emails of encouragement. Our friends poured out words of love and covered us in their prayer. Best of all, the Lord protected me this week. I was minutes away from death, but He brought us to the ER and delivered us into the hands of a capable and compassionate medical team just in time. Yes. There has been immense suffering in our home these past seven days, but the suffering ushered in a tremendous outpouring of love and comforting in our sorrow. God is good.
This week I learned anew the love my Savior has for me. I felt secure in the love and protection of my beloved husband. I relished the sweet innocence of my young sons and felt their love and concern for my well being. I felt comforted by my family and friends. I will say it again and again, God is good.
