ER - I really didn't miss you

I suppose it was inevitable - a trip to the ER.  In the spring it seemed like I was in the ER or at the hospital on a regular basis.  I haven't thought about the hospital since my transplant, so you can imagine that the ER was far removed from my thinking.  And yet there I was last night for 4 1/2 hours.  Mask on, in an isolated room, listening to the doctor say, "You may have to stay overnight."  And I had only a half-full pocketbook.

I've been fighting a cold, head congestion and some lethargy for more than a week.  I did not go into work all of last week, though I did manage some work hours at home.  I thought a week of being at home would snap me back into good shape.  Alas, it did not.  So before I went to the oncologist for my regular lab work this Monday, I reported my symptoms.  The triage nurse scheduled an appointment for me with a PA, just to make sure I was doing all that I should be doing to recover from the cold.  The PA gave me a quick check and sent me on my way with a Z-Pak prescription.  Now keep in mind this is the same PA who didn't give me a prescription when I had that nasty infection in the spring.  And what happened then?  A trip to the ER and then a hospital stay that was ugly. Ugly indeed.  (Remember the nasty language blog?) I'm thinking the PA decided to prescribe a drug that could possibly ward off any illness that was lurking in my body but at the same time would not be overly potent.  And what happened this time?  The very next day - or evening, rather - I had a temperature of 101 and my oncologist insisted that I go to the ER for a complete assessment.  He said my immuno-suppressed system with a temp of 101 needed prompt attention.  Needless to say, this particular PA has 2 strikes against her.

After I had a good cry for myself, I prepared for a trip to the ER.  My son checked some items in my bag and refilled supplies where needed, I grabbed my iPad, Joe arrived home, and off we went.

Now I can't recall if I mentioned that I had my port removed a few weeks ago.  As I laid on the ER bed while a nurse inserted an IV, I wondered why I had done such a thing! (I believe the port being a potential source of infection in my diabetic body is why!)   How much easier, though, it would be to have labs drawn from my port rather than my arm!  And, yes, they had to use both arms.

A CBC was drawn, as were several culture bottles, and chest x-rays were taken.  Everything was normal.  An hour-long drip of a more powerful antibiotic was given and back home we headed, new prescription in hand.

Having cancer isn't easy and it sure isn't a whole lot of fun, not for me and not for those who love and support me.  But, as I wrote so long ago, it's our 'new normal.'  I've been so fortunate and so blessed to have experienced such a successful post-transplant recovery.  I think at times we forget that I have cancer - and in many ways that is a good thing.  Last night, though, was a reminder that this 'new normal' is going to include the occasional trips to the ER and overnights in the hospital.  My sister sent me a text last night that said, "Don't be getting yourself crazy about this fever.  You'll get a new antibiotic and it'll be fine.  Love you!!"  And she's right.  If I get myself crazy every time something goes awry, (for instance, getting crazy as I tried to pull from my brain the memory of how to spell 'awry'), I am going to have a long, frazzled life ahead of me.  A trip to the ER, an IV.... just detours in the road and not dead ends.  Even the momentary loss of my spelling prowess is just a detour; after all, I still knew how to use a dictionary and thesaurus to find my way to the word I couldn't remember how to spell.