There I am, minding my own business, when WHAM - nasty germ 0157 comes strolling into my gut. Of course, we had no idea what it was until about a week after the symptoms began, but we knew enough to head the ER. Twice.
Sunday: Woke in the wee hours of the morning with some belly cramps. Could not fall back to sleep.
Monday: Belly hurt all day long, doctors think it is viral, or possibly a side effect from a medication. Tell me to carry on.
Tuesday: Bad belly business (I am leaving out the details for your own stomach's sake).
Wednesday: Finally call the dr, she brings me in around 1 pm. Promptly sends me to the emergency room, possible appendicitis? IV fluids and a few hours later, I go home. I feel hungry so I eat a banana, some diluted apple juice, and a few tiny pretzel sticks. WRONG. WRONG. BAD MOVE. WRONG WRONG WRONG. The night is long and the tummy is sad.
Thursday: Judah goes to school and I return to the ER, where they admit me to the observation floor. We wait for lab results. Possibly infectious colitis? Dilaudid gives me a few precious hours of sleep.
Friday: The pain begins to subside (thank heavens) and I get moved (thank heavens) up to the 6th floor, where the bed is comfy and the halls are quiet. I sleep 6 hours (only woken once by the dang IV machine). Aaah.
Saturday: IV fluids are disconnected. I tell my doctor I must leave soon because I had been planning an anniversary party for my parents that is scheduled for the next day. They begin to give me starches in addition to the clear liquids to ensure I can handle solid food. 3 pm surprise! Discharge papers have been handed to me. Go home. SHOWER! Aaaah.
Sunday: Attend party. All goes well (though I was a bit clammy), though I'm sure I overdid it. Late that night I discover a voicemail from my doctor. She calls me at 11 pm to tell me the last cultures came back E. Coli 0157. Ew.
In between all of those bits and pieces, of course there was Judah. He was definitely thrown by my need to stay in the hospital. One afternoon he confided in me that he had woken up at 3:30 am, crying because he dreamed I was home but I wasn't. Oy.
All I kept thinking was how grateful I am that he was so much younger when I had chemo. He barely remembers and while he showed signs of separation anxiety, he had no clue quite how serious the situation was. Still, kind of a traumatizing week for us. Quite glad to be home and slowly recovering.
I have decided to hire some professional cleaners with their professional cleaning supplies (bleach approved!). E. Coli is nothing to mess around with. I want nary a speck, not a microbe left in my house, lest any of my loved ones travel down last week's path.
Be happy to send my trash wrapped in a ribbon to those tea party politicians down on Capitol Hill.