A year ago I posted about having been in quarantine for 2 months.
Who knew it would turn into a year.
I’ve officially been back at the office for a month and a half. It’s been a weird adjustment after the year I’ve had, the year we all have had.
So where to start…
Quarantine lasted a lot longer than I expected. The first wave was nothing compared to the second and third. Things got worse then got better and then worse. I took care of the animals, I made masks, I focused on my shop.
My depression dipped to monstrous levels. The worst it’s been in almost 3 years. I gained weight, I lost weight, I tried to take care of myself. Occasionally I would remember to change clothes and not sleep on the couch. It was hell.
And then when things seemed bad, it got worse. Somehow.
My health stuff had been getting pretty bad so finally, I went to the doctor. Got on anxiety/depression meds (10/10 would recommend) and got to see a specialist about gastro issues that had been getting worse over the past year. Had to get an upper endoscopy and biopsy to make sure I didn’t have cancer (fun), found a bunch of ulcers, was sick for a few days and then almost died under a week later.
It’s gonna be another long one so buckle up. I’ve probably needed to write this all out for a while.
So even now, months later, I don’t have an official reason why. We have a lot of hunches, but no evidence or anything concrete so it’s still a mystery. But a couple days before October 1st (ironic, I know), I got sick in the middle of the night and went to vomit. I vomited blood.
Not good.
In my dumb brain, I didn’t classify this as Emergency Room necessary. I worked in an ER overnight. I’ve see what they are able to do for you and I didn’t think they would be able to do anything about this that my specialist couldn’t. So I went back to sleep and promised to call the office as soon as they opened. So I woke up at 7am to do the routine of letting the dogs out an hour before work and go to the restroom.
Warning, this is where I’ll say a trigger warning for bodily fluids and functions and descriptions.
I knew as soon as I went to the bathroom something was wrong. You know how things feel when they’re normal and this was not normal. But the first thing that hit me was the smell. It smelt like death and rot. Not the metallic scent of blood but decay almost. Something was very very wrong and looking down I was able to confirm that yes, that smell came from me, and yes, I had just passed a massive amount of black blood. There was a split second where I completely disassociated and thought I was still asleep. Then the sheer panic hit and I had to keep from hyperventilating because the situation had gone from a 5 to a 10 very suddenly.
I called work, I texted a friend, I think I texted my parents. I can’t really remember. For some reason, and I don’t know why, my brain decided that I needed to wash off very quickly and change because I couldn’t go to the ER in the state I was in. So I stupidly took a 2 minute shower and grabbed clothes that would be easy to maneuver. Then the lightheadedness hit and I knew I had missed my window to drive myself. I had to sit, my vision swimming, and went to the restroom again to pass more blood. I was losing blood fast. I grabbed my results from my upper endoscopy, insurance card, and threw all my medication in a bag to go wait in the car for my friend to come pick me up. I remember my limbs starting to go cold. I had the urge to pass more blood but I couldn’t get out of the car.
The lightheadedness hit again but worse and I was losing motor function. I tried to text that I was passing out but the words were just a jumble of auto correct. I was dying. That’s all my brain could focus on. I was dying, dying in my dumb driveway, dying alone with my animals inside. Who would take care of them? Where would they go? What would happen to my things, my art, who would tell my online friends, my best friend who had just moved across the country?
I had to start calling 911 and get an ambulance because I wasn’t sure my friend was going to make it to me in time. I tried to answer their questions, told EMS what my symptoms and everything were, but I knew I was slurring. I live in a rear house, it’s hard to get to and my brain had the thought of “What if they get stuck in the mud?”
But then my friend was there and I managed to climb in. We raced to the ER and I tried to focus on breathing. Not dead yet. That’s all I could focus on instead of the distinctive feeling of something leaking inside of me and pooling somewhere it shouldn’t be.
The ER was a mess. This was at the beginning of a big wave and there were no more rooms and too many people waiting in the ER. There was a girl with her head cracked open waiting to go back. They had to do the initial work up and labs in the lobby and I almost passed out two more times when they made me walk to the back area for blood draws. I didn’t have any blood to give and was pale and cold. My dad was on his way but it’d be a while. I waited in that ER lobby for 3-4 hours, half conscious and delirious. There were beds set up in the hallway and the EMS had to drop people off in the lobby, there was no where to go.
Finally, they took me back to the trauma area of the ER. Apparently I was worse off than the girl with a literal hole in her skull. My dad came, they did more blood work and monitors. At one point I had to have help to go to the bathroom. The nurse was in there with me and when I was done, I felt that wave hit. I was going to pass out. I even said out loud “I’m going to pass out” and I remember the nurse distinctly say “No, you’re not.”
And then I passed out.
Passing out is a weird experience. I was disoriented, lightheaded, and I could feel my body go cold and my limbs lose function. And then I was dreaming. I remember having full on dreams as if I had been sleeping in my bed.
Then you’re crashing away and there’s noise everywhere and people trying to talk to you and it’s like they’re all talking through a fog. I could feel the deadweight of my body being lifted. Despite what the nurse said, I did pass out right there in the tiny bathroom and she’d had to hold me up to keep my head from smacking anything. They’re rushed my bed from the room and had 4 nurses and my stepmom lift me onto the bed and started running tests. Luckily, I had pulled my pants up so that was one less embarrassment. But my heart rate and blood pressure had dropped, I was clammy and white, and I was trying to process everything at once.
I had to start using a bed pan. I wasn’t allowed to walk on my own anymore. Nothing quite makes you lose any sort of dignity like having to use a bedpan with a stranger in the room and then having to have them help you clean up. I hated it but it was that or passing out again.
They were admitting me to the hospital. I was going to have another upper endoscopy in the morning. There was a team of doctors who were working on my case. I wasn’t allowed to eat or drink anything until then so I laid in bed, half awake, for 12 hours and waited for my room to be ready. They’d come in and do my blood draws, check my levels every few hours, and then I’d go back to waiting. Around 11pm I sent my dad off until the next morning and dozed.
They moved me to my room shortly after, did more lab draws, woke me up at 3 am for even more draws. At that point I had lost count of how many times I’d been stuck with a needle already. It was a struggle to get blood every time so they kept having to switch spots.
They didn’t see anything in my upper endoscopy. So I was going to have to have a colonoscopy done now which takes prep work. For that, you have to basically clear everything out so they can see properly on the camera so they give you a giant jug of magnesium you have to drink. It’s basically a extremely sour lemonade laxative. My doctor had told me to tell the nurse to give me an anti-nausea medicine an hour before so I don’t throw it up. Instead, the nurse gave it to me with the magnesium and basically told me to chug the stuff and get it over with.
Bad call. My dad was out of the room and some other nurses had come in to get some more readings. I told them I needed to go to the restroom and then quickly felt nausea and told them I was going to throw up. They were not fast enough with the vomit bag. All the magnesium came up and then when the nurse finally got a bucket for me, a giant blood clot and blood came out. And then I crashed again. 10+ people ran into the room, some trying to change my soaked hospital gown, others getting a ton more monitors on me. I was moved to the ICU. It was all a haze but I remember my dad coming back into the room and seeing everyone in there, yelling info to each other and me surrounded, as a doctor tried to explain what was happening.
I was scared. They took me to get a CT scan again and MRI to see if they could see where the blood was and to check my organs. Nothing. By the time that was done, they took me straight to the ICU and my mom was waiting, having driven 5 hours. The ICU was stricter with the COVID protocols and I was only allowed one person with me so she switched off with my dad since she could help me with the bed pan and stuff. I felt so helpless, having to have help to do the smallest thing. I still wasn’t able to eat or drink so I was going onto day 2 or 3 of not having anything. They had to keep me on fluids. The procedure was moved to the next morning and I had people monitoring me through the glass walls. My work dropped off a plant and card for me. I got updates sent about how the dogs were doing. I tried to distract myself.
It’s hard to sleep in the ICU. There’s constantly something going on, people’s monitors going off, sometimes people crashing and alarms sounding. The blood draws continued every few hours so I was getting woken up a lot. My hemoglobin levels had dropped from the minimum healthy range of 12 to now a 7.6. I had to get a blood transfusion. I hadn’t stood in a few days so they put a pulsing muscle machine on my calves to keep circulation going. I learned to push the silence button on my heart rate machine since it went off all the time.
The next morning I had to drink the magnesium again, but my sweet nurse tried to water it down as much as possible for me to make it easier. I loved her, she genuinely cared and tried to make things as easy as possible for me, helping me sponge bath and wash my hair in bed. She tried to make sure my IV’s didn’t stall so they would stop sticking me so much in other places. But unfortunately, I also had to have an enema. If you don’t know what that is, oh boy.
Basically they shoot water up the wrong in. A lot of water and it flushes it all out. Now we’ve all seen and heard the jokes about enemas in movies and shows and all that. It’s ha ha funny.
No. It was the most painful thing I have ever experienced along with the most humiliating. They had to put a whole fluid bag in me and when you’re already full, it’s painful. So so painful. The nurse held my hand as I laid on my side and screamed. It’s not a quick process. I cried so hard, it felt like I was being stabbed from the inside of my lower stomach and someone was turning the knife. And then you have to hold it all in and let it out. I was exhausted and they had to clean me up only for me to have to do a second bag to fully clean it all out. It was just as painful.
I was so out of it and worn out from the pain that I hardly remember them wheeling me back for the procedure. They didn’t find anything again.
So I had to swallow a camera pill. They paired it to a bluetooth pack that I had to have strapped over my chest and then the technician basically popped the giant GIANT plastic pill into my mouth and I swallowed it before I could even process what happened. It had to stay in my body for 24 hours and then I’d pass it. It was an experience. Hours later, I got to eat my first meal after 4 days. I ate so slow to make sure I didn’t upset my stomach but I was so hungry and so tired. I didn’t even finish it. It was a slow, boring day of more tests, more doctors, more blood draws. The TV played whatever junk daytime weekend TV plays. I got another sponge bath. I was done and traumatized and just trying to process everything.
That night the IV stopped working (I had two different ones at this point) and so the Charge nurse ended up sticking me 4 different times.
I got breakfast in the morning and for the most part, I hadn’t noticed anymore bleeding when I went to the restroom. Still on a bed pan. Still hadn’t walked in 4-5 days. The nurse decided to help me try a sitting bed pan-walker contraption so I can start using my legs and then she had me sitting in a recliner to get more circulation going. A few hours later I passed the camera and we laughed about the blinking light in the bedpan.
They gave me an iron infusion and the doctor came in, saying the technicians would have to look at the data but she wasn’t completely comfortable discharging me yet until my levels got better. But I was going to get moved to a regular room. It was progress and a light at the end of the tunnel that I could finally be getting to go home the following day.
Then I passed out and crashed again.
We don’t know why. One moment my mom was helping me get up to finally walk to the bathroom and then that sensation happened again. I spoke the magic words “I’m going to pass out” and she said “No you’re fine” and then I was dreaming. There seems to be a trend of people telling me I’m not going to pass out when I definitely am.
I woke up to my mom holding me up and a crowd of nurses around me. I was pale, and they had to have me sit back on the recliner so they could lay me flat and transfer me to the bed. My heart rate and blood pressure had tanked. They thought I had a seizure but I could answer their questions, even though it all felt foggy. I had to focus to move my lips.
They did more tests and I was back to not being able to walk and using the bed pan. They couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me but I remember the heartbreaking feeling when they said I was going to be in the ICU for another day. It was too risky for me in a normal room. No discharge.
I cried. I was scared and done with whatever was happening with my body and the fact no one had any answers. The answer was constantly “we don’t know” and I was beyond frustrated because I felt trapped. It felt like my body was breaking apart but I wasn’t allowed to abandon ship for safety. And on top of that, dinner sucked.
Another day and more tests. They were looking at my thyroid now (spoiler: nope) and the doctors were giving conflicting info. One seemed like she didn’t care and was going to discharge me and the other didn’t think it was safe yet. She won out, but she also was the one that was actually trying to help. Finally, they moved me to a room later that night. Mom had to sleep on another awful futon and the room was freezing. We only saw a nurse once until morning. My mom could help me walk to the bathroom, but they had to put a notice that my heart rate would shoot up every time.
In the morning, a nurse helped me fully shower for the first time. I had to sit on a shower chair to make sure I didn’t pass out and she stayed in the bathroom with me and chatted with my mom about COVID and everything. I felt clean and she helped me into a new dressing gown. I got more medication and finally, they were going to discharge me. I was going to have to wait for the camera results anyways and the bleeding had stopped. I had follow up appointments scheduled, medication prescribed, and I was wheelchaired out of there finally.
My mom went back home and I had never loved her more. She tried to keep me calm during the whole thing and took care of me. She stocked me up with groceries and anything I’d need to take care of myself.
I couldn’t be alone the first couple days in case I passed out and because I was getting use to walking again so a friend stayed with me. I had missed the dogs so much, all I wanted to do was hug and have them snuggle piled all around me. My wonderful friends surprised me with painted and decorated pumpkins on my doorstep since I had missed the first week of October celebrations and then surprised me again with get well cards and gifts from them and some of the artists in the community. I cried, I was so overwhelmed that they had gone out of their way to support me and think of me.
I had follow up appointments to keep an eye on my blood levels and medications to help me manage symptoms. I went back to work but had to take it easy. I would get intense, blinding migraines and the littlest of activity made me lightheaded and was too much. Lifting my groceries made me winded and sometimes I needed help just cleaning. Every time I went to the restroom, I had intense anxiety that I would be bleeding again.
I try to laugh off the experience and joke about how 2020 almost killed me, but there’s been a lot of lingering trauma. I have nightmares where I am going through that feeling again of being in my car, losing motor function, thinking that that’s where I was going to die. I get anxiety when it comes to my health and it took me 5 months just to be able to do any sort of physical activity again. But there are positives. My depression has gotten better though almost dying might do that. Even though I might possibly be getting diagnosed with Lupus (that’s a whole saga and I have more doctors appointments for that) I’m working on getting a lot healthier and taking care of myself.
I started back working on art, am working on a Halloween show about my whole hospital experience, got vaccinated, went back to work, started walking the dogs and finally had an outdoor vegetarian cookout with all my friends. I’m back to making plans and figuring things out.
I turned 30. I almost didn’t make it but here we are. 30.
2020 derailed a lot of my plans. Goals I had set for my last year of my 20s didn’t happen, things got bad, things got worse, and things almost ended. But I made it. The experience has changed me. I started letting go of worrying about things I couldn’t change or other people’s opinions of me. I learned that life is short and all that matters is my own choices and decisions and what I can control. I learned to make boundaries, focus on the good and to take things a bit at a time. Some days I need to relax and not stress. The to-do list can wait. The dishes will pile up but they’ll get clean again.
Focus on what matters.
Me, my art, my animals, my plants, my family, my friends. That’s it.
I went back to work and we had our first art trail after a year. The support was incredible and I missed being able to do the things I love. The dogs get to go on walks on the weekends and I’m getting a new car. Leaving the old behind and making changes. I want to save up and buy a little house just for me and the animals. Something that’s mine.
Eventually I’ll drag myself back into the world of regularly dating which will be a new adventure. But for now I’m working on making sure I’m happy and loving myself.
So I’m sorry for the year of silence but I’m here and I’m alive and I’m keeping going.
-Sam <3
