I spent the next week becoming obsessed with their music and everything Mumford and Sons. Things were looking up! My kids were sick and a little cranky, but I had a road trip and the best concert ever in my near future. Did I mention we had Pit seats? Yeah. I could faint like a 13 year old Bieber fan just thinking about it!
And then something annoying happened. I caught my children's disease approximately 3 days before the sacred event. I was achy; coughing; congested; not sleeping. Couldn't talk. Could barely eat. Did I care? Nope. Nothing was going to keep me from that concert. Nothing!
So I went. I packed my inhaler, a fleece jacket, and some OTC meds. I stayed hydrated, ate healthy, took my vitamins. And I had the most amazing time!
<Pause. Savoring the moment again. Savor with me...sigh.>
O.K., back to my saga...
Three days later I felt much worse, not better. I saw my doctor, procured antibiotics, and went home to rest and get well. After 5 doses of penicillin and 24 hours, I felt even worse. So I slept. It felt sooooo good to sleep. I was freezing, had weird dreams, and couldn't seem to tell the difference between my dreams and reality. But I figured that was the effect of my disease plus cold medicine. It would pass.
(Did I mention I'm retelling this story after a large dose of hydrocodone? I'll get to that. Don't worry. It's totally legal. Promise.)
When my husband came home, I was bundled up under a ton of blankets, weak, and disoriented. (Come to think of it, the latter has happened enough recently that I'm wondering if he'll just stop coming home at some point. Better look into plan B: maybe one of those "I've fallen and I can't get up" alarms.) He took my temp. 102.5. Called the doctor. "Take her to the emergency room." Fine. Here we go.
After several hours of tests, fluids, and uncontrollable fever, heart rate, and blood pressure, they decided to keep me overnight. The staff was great! They took great care of me, though they were all young enough to be my offspring. My overnight nurse was 12. She must've been homeschooled and extremely bright. I thought you'd have to be at least 13 to get into nursing school. Obviously, I was wrong.
She was adorable, sweet, accommodating, and quite apologetic when she misplaced my medicine, almost knocked my IV out, and made me bleed everywhere. I felt very maternal toward her and assured her I was perfectly fine. Not to worry. Nevertheless, I tenuously declined her offer of morphine, though it was tempting after the night I'd had. Instead I opted for Tylenol, feeling fairly confident in my knowledge of an appropriate dose. Courtney agreed saying, "Yeah. Morphine is a little strong. It might make you sick <giggle>." I'm glad we agreed there were options.
The next morning my doctor popped in and congratulated me for being the only person she'd ever known to "become septic from a sinus infection." Huh? Septic??? Isn't that the term they use for Dr. House's patients right before they die...to indicate it's time for him to solve the case or lose the patient? Nice. She sent in an Ear Nose and Throat specialist, who had also never seen the likes. He had connections to my home state and wore a James Avery ring. I liked him. I'm sure both of those things make him a highly qualified professional in his field.
I was issued a prescription for more antibiotics and discharged. Yea! Going home!
Fast forward two days, to Saturday. My head hurt. A lot. So much that I couldn't see or think straight, drive, form coherent thoughts, or speak without pain (and I think we all know it's a bad sign when I'm unable to use words). Oh yeah! And my neck was stiff. It hurt to turn my head, look down, blah blah.
Called the doctor. "Go back to the ER. You need to be tested for meningitis." Yippee! Spinal tap! (These go to 11.)
They tested me, and what fun experience that was! "No meningitis. Go home and lie on your back for 3 (more) days. Here are some pain killers that will make you paranoid and give you weird dreams. Don't take more than 5 per day." FIVE?! Are you NUTS?! One makes me almost comatose! Ok, I promise. No more than five per day. And you're quite sure my spine won't snap if I lean back? Because it feels like it will snap if I just lean my head back like this. "No. You're fine. No paralysis. No snapping spine. Just lie flat for 3 days and no more than 5 doses of hydrocodone per 24 hour period. Oh! And call your doctor if you experience tingling or numbness." Got it.
Wait! Numbness? That sounds strikingly similar to paralysis. "You're not paralyzed. Your spine isn't snapping. No more than 5 hydrocodone per day." Got it. No more than five doses of narcotics per day, and if I start feeling numb in my legs, it's absolutely not paralysis, but I should call my doctor. May I have that last part in writing, please? "No." Got it. Thank you.
And off I rode into the skull splitting sunset, covering my eyes, complaining, and considering the life lessons I learned along the way, which I will impart to you, my Dear Reader:
1. Always say "yes" to drugs. Saying "no" is looking a gift horse in the mouth...or something like that, that you should never do. Always. Say. Yes!
(Disclaimer: a certain grown adult, with whom I may or may not share a living space, is concerned this will cause disruption in any future employment I may seek. So allow me to add that you should only say "yes," if it's issued by someone with credentials...preferably medical credentials.)
2. Accept the fact that one day you will be older than the entire medical staff at any given hospital. This is a sign of the end. Don't fight it. Save your energy; it's all uphill from here.
3. If given the choice, always choose sepsis over a spinal tap. I was not given that choice, but if I am in the future, I will choose sepsis. Just not the organ failure stage; the one before that.
4. This is the most important life lesson of all. Are you listening? Shhhh! Pay attention!!!
Never. Ever. EVER! turn down an opportunity to see Mumford and Sons live. EVER! No matter how sick you are, what it costs, or who you have to disappoint. ALWAYS say "yes" to tickets to see Mumford and Sons. Your children will forgive you if you miss their high school graduations, weddings, etc. Your husband will also forgive you, if you almost die afterward (just don't actually die because no one will forgive you for that). Family will always be around to put up with your bullshit, but a Mumford and Sons concert is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Don't. Miss. It!
And one final note: Jesus said you should lay down your life for your friends. I fully support that. I would merely add that you should also do so for Mumford and Sons. It's totally worth it.
*Mumforditis is a term coined by my husband, while he was refusing to look up the stats on sepsis. Personally, I think it's a great denial word, and so apropos!
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