Never a Dull Moment

In America we’re all about excitement, standing out, and being unique or extraordinary. One doesn’t usually wish one’s life to be dull, boring, or uneventful, or to be perceived as ordinary or average. There have been countless times over the past two years of my life, however, in which I wished for nothing more. When I was first admitted to the hospital for my then undiagnosed and extremely rare immune disorder, teams of doctors visited me every day for five weeks before they finally pinpointed the cause of my sickness. Almost every day, after being stumped yet again by my array of symptoms, one or more doctors would teasingly tell me I was “special,” as if this was an original statement. It drove me crazy.

Another one of these times was my last hospital admission two weeks ago, which I didn’t bother to mention to most people because, let’s face it, lately I’ve been admitted to the hospital about as often as I’ve filled up on gas. The day I was admitted, I arrived in the day hospital for a routine infusion of IVIG, a blood product meant to boost my antibodies and therefore my immune defense. I came by myself for the two-hour infusion, since I’ve received IVIG at least 40 times over the past year and a half and expected nothing out of the ordinary (there’s that word again). My nurse was training someone that day, so she decided to follow protocol and hook me up to the cardiac monitor, which they usually never do. I took Benadryl and Tylenol before the infusion to prevent any possible allergic reaction, and then quickly fell asleep.

About two-thirds of the way through the infusion, I woke up to go to the bathroom and felt a little crummy. I know my body well enough now to know when something is wrong, though I can’t always put my finger on it. As soon as I got back to bed from the bathroom, I plugged myself back into the cardiac monitor, which immediately started beeping. The machine has several levels of warning, which correlate the different beeping pitches and frequencies. The first is, “You’re a little anxious or sleeping too soundly.” The second is, “Something’s wrong,” and the third is “GET THE PADDLES!”  I paged the nurse, muttered, “I’m going to pass out” as she entered the room, and then proceeded to feel my brain go to mush as the machine blasted its third and final warning level. During that moment, my heart rate actually dropped to 0, but luckily it rose quickly enough that they didn’t have to resuscitate me. I returned to consciousness to hear “CODE BLUE” being announced over the hospital PA system and saw a team of about 20-25 people rush into my room, shouting things at me and each other as they tore off my socks, checked my pulse, and started pumping me with fluids and hydrocortisone. Within 5 minutes, I was rushed to the ICU.

Not to worry; I was fine after about an hour since that chaos was simply caused by a severe allergic reaction to IVIG, which, thank God, I’ll never receive again. But protocol required that I be monitored overnight in the ICU, bringing me to hospital admission #3 in less than a month. I was pretty angry about the whole thing, but I’m grateful that it wasn’t anything more serious. I realized how God was protecting me by having the nurse decide to hook me up to the cardiac monitor. Even though no one was there with me, I wasn’t alone.

Isaiah 43:1-3 MSG
Don't be afraid, I've redeemed you.
  I've called your name. You're mine.
When you're in over your head, I'll be there with you.
  When you're in rough waters, you will not go down.
When you're between a rock and a hard place,
  it won't be a dead end—
Because I am God, your personal God,
  The Holy of Israel, your Savior.