The [cord] that broke the camel’s back

So let me just get the bad news out of the way and tell you that I got admitted to the hospital again this week. Unfortunately, four-day admissions, which the BMT team considers short but feel to me like a million years, seem to be my thing :/. The culprit? An E. coli infection, which coincidentally is the same bacteria that sent me to the hospital in April. Uttering the phrase “E. coli” always tends to get me some pretty frightened looks, but in my immuno-suppressed condition, I present with symptoms long before the scary and more dangerous symptoms of E. coli infections would typically arise. Though it’s frustrating to be so susceptible to these type of infections, I’m glad that we were able to catch them and start IV antibiotics quickly, preventing worse symptoms and a much longer hospital stay.

Claustrophobia: extreme or irrational fear of confined places.

I appreciate how claustrophobia is defined as “extreme OR irrational fear,” because my experience with this feeling this week was, in my opinion, VERY rational. For the past couple weeks, my doctors have been debating over the best course of treatment for a platelet condition I developed. One potential treatment required two 8-hour infusions, so since I was stuck in the hospital anyway for, well, longer than 16 hours, they decided to administer the treatment.

Here’s where the claustrophobia comes in. During the 8-hour infusions, I had to be hooked up to an IV pole through both my lumens (fancy word for the caps of my Hickman catheter), connected to a monitor through 3 cords attached to my chest, and attached to an oxygen saturation machine (O2 sat) through an adhesive wrapped around my finger. In case you weren’t counting, that’s 6 cords and 3 machines, each with its own uniquely endearing alarm system. I could literally move 3 feet, and simply breathing too hard would set off a series of beeps. The phrase “I’m beeping” quickly became part of my everyday vernacular. Going to the bathroom required several minutes of creative thought and preparation, including silencing multiple alarms, untangling and detaching myself from 4 of my 6 cords, and maneuvering the IV pole around a massively long extension cord to create a clear path from the bed to the bathroom. And they wonder why dehydration is an issue in the hospital.

The good news is that, in addition to not taking a swing at anyone during those 16 hours (a miracle, I assure you), I’m home now and doing well! I’m hoping and praying for no more hospital admissions, as I know many of you are as well. Thank you for your continued prayers, support, and encouragement :).