Die awake or die sleeping?

So, who knew that I could be so allergic to Zithromax? I took one dose and had some rashes. No big deal, right? I have so many freaking allergies, what’s one more? So I used some hydrocortisone. Yeah, yeah. Take some Benadryl, you say? I know. The issue, however, is taking one Benadryl (or 25 mg over-the-counter dose) is like taking two doses of Valium for me. I become sleepy and hazy. So, two doses (as in 50 mg), virtually makes me pass out for 12 hours. I live alone (ok, aside from my cat). So, to take Benadryl and be in oblivion for an unknown length of time is scary to me. Needless to say, no Benadryl.

But I’m a nurse, you know, so I know what’s going on. I can take care of myself. That’s right. I know what to do. . . I took a Pepcid, two, in fact. For the antihistamine properties . . . see? I know.

Then, the rashes that started on my arms spread to my legs. And are those my eyes? I can’t really see that well. All that puffiness is getting in the way. Then the nausea. Everyone knows how completely annoying it is to feel like you’re going to throw up but can’t. Of course, there’s the embarrassing multiple shades of green that one turns into. But I’m a nurse, so I can handle it. I’m fine. I’m going to work. That’s right! If I ignore it, it will go away. What nausea? What rash? The eye puffiness? Nothing that a nap can’t fix.

When my co-worker asked me if I had collagen lip injection done, I knew I was in trouble. Duh! Okay, fine. I’ll go home, but I definitely need some Benadryl now. I guess I’ll take some. To be safe, I stayed at work where people can watch me while I go into a Benadryl coma. I had to take a shot of Zofran, too. That’s for the nausea. No, I did not give myself the shot. I’m not sadistic that way. <sigh> This sucks!

The next day when I was coherent and somewhat awake enough, I dragged myself to the doctor’s office. I am NOT going to the ER. Thank God my doctor slotted me in. I didn’t really have to say too much to her. I guess the angry red welts on my arms and the exaggerated Angelina Jolie lips and the barely visible eyeballs (yes, I should not have driven myself . . . but I’m a nurse) were indications to her that something is seriously wrong with me and probably needed something more than just Benadryl and I was beyond Pepcid. With a smile, she left the room. I think I heard her mutter something like, “Damn nurses!” and “should be in the ER.” I could be wrong, though.

She came back with Prednisone pills (hey, I can’t get those over-the-counter) and an epinephrine shot (also not available over-the-counter). This, she says, should help. I’m thinking, wow! My doctor is an angel. Most doctors would have shuttled me to the ER by now. So, I happily took my pills and lifted an arm for the injection. Yay! All will be well. . . The doctor says, “I’ll be back. We’ll wait for a little bit and see what happens.” Cool!

All of a sudden, I’m sweating and dizzy. Feeling nauseated again. WTF!!! (I didn’t say that out loud, though, but I was sure thinking it). Because I’m a nurse, you know, so I get up and reach for the pulse oximetry (because it takes your pulse. See? I know). Uhh! Hmmm . . . I could be wrong, of course, but a heart rate of 160 is a bad thing, isn’t it? My years of nursing experience tell me that epinephrine has a short half-life so it should go away soon, right? Damn! I feel crappy, though. Where is the damn nurse buzzer when you need one? Do I dare check a blood pressure? Do I get up and find help? Why does that door look like it’s a mile away? Why is my voice box not working? Do I call out ‘help!’ or do I yell ‘fire!’ I can’t remember. Why does the floor look like it’s melting? This sucks!!!

I think an eternity passed by and I was sent to heaven because I was looking at an angel. Oh, no, wait. It’s my doctor. I grinned. I think I said, ‘hi’. She looked a bit anemic all of a sudden. What happened to her? I don’t remember her being this pale earlier. I fell asleep, I think, I said. (Note: I was somehow transported from the chair to the examining table. How cool is that?) She looked at me; she looked at the pulse oximetry. It was traitorously beeping my heart rate at 120 something. Oh that, I said. Hey, it’s better. It was 160 something earlier. She didn’t look relieved whatsoever. I know that look. It’s the ‘I’m calling 911’ look. Oh, no, you don’t. Angel or no angel. I am NOT going to the ER. So, I say, no, no, I feel better, really. See? I grinned. She did not look convinced. She had some nurse/tech/slave/demonette take my blood pressure. I was so freaking anxious (I was freaking out, yes, I was) that my blood pressure would be low and she would be compelled to call the paramedics. My anxiety, however, actually helped me. My blood pressure was, while not great, was acceptable enough that my doctor looked somewhat convinced of my ‘I’m okay’ grin.

Another eternity passed, my heart rate slowed down enough, and my legs didn’t feel like jelly and I was allowed to drive home. Of course, I had a bagful of medications to take. More damn Benadryl! Great! I hope my cat feels like baby-sitting. This sucks!!!

So, I finally understand all the patients I have seen who felt that they are so unique in the world that ‘nothing like this ever happens to me.’ You know, it must be human nature. You sort of know that things happen in the world, just NOT to YOU. Know what I mean? This situation, for instance. I know people have allergic reactions to medications, right? I know that epinephrine shots for allergies can cause the heart rate to increase. I know this. I know it happens to some people. Prior to this, I would have bet that will never happen to me. That’s right! Because bad things like that happen, yes, but to OTHER people.

Anyway, I get home and am faced with the same dilemma. Supposed to take Benadryl every 6 hours, but I’ll be in a coma, then what? I still feel like crap and I’m feeling pretty grumpy. Is there a pill for feeling like crap? Now what? So, I have two choices. Option one: Take the Benadryl and be in a world of oblivion and haze, risk over-sedation, and slowly asphyxiating to death. Option two: not take the Benadryl, risk return of itchy, annoying hives, vision disturbances from eyes becoming swollen shut, lips becoming clown lips, and maybe tongue swelling, throat closing, and be painfully aware of impending death. Hmm . . . don’t you hate having choices sometimes? It’s so hard. It’s almost as bad as choosing from a menu at a restaurant you have never been before. This sucks!!!

My guardian angel comes to the rescue!!! One of the girls I met called to see if I wanted to go to a party. It was Friday night, after all. Of course, I gracefully declined since no amount of makeup was going to do me justice right then. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself (hey, I had a lot happen to me, okay!?), so I told her what was going on. And then my faith in the goodness of the world was strengthened once more when she offered to come get me and have me stay at her house so someone can be around when I take my coma pills. She and her brother were coming over to pick me up and take me to their house. It was a bit awkward. I don’t really know her that well and I never even met her brother.

More choices. Do I just die or do I embarrass myself and be a drooling imbecile in front of people I don’t really know and have them take care of me? She was so insistent, though, and I had no fight left in me. I wanted to object, but I felt crappy enough to agree. Okay, sorry, Death.

When they got to my place, I embarrassingly told them I couldn’t go because I accidentally gave my cat her medication twice and I wasn’t sure how that was going to affect her. I needed to make sure she was okay. Next thing I know, I was packed, the cat was packed, and we were in the car heading towards BFE. I probably would have enjoyed the drive except the world looked like it lost its shape and color somehow. . .

So, for the next two and a half days, I spent it at my friend’s house oscillating between waking and dreaming. I was so embarrassed that I kept trying to get up, I don’t know, to help, I guess. With what, I wasn’t really sure. I was in a strange house in altered consciousness. Thank goodness for the innate kindness of some humans. I’m sure I was drooling on myself and, I’m not even sure if I ate anything. I think I would rather be awake and be painfully aware of impending death than this. Complete loss of, not only my physical body, but my thoughts and words, as well. The crazy thing is, we are talking Benadryl here. It’s not like I’ve been taking some sedative or narcotic, not even a muscle freaking relaxant to make me feel this drugged. Three days of my life went by while I dreamt. Even while awake, I felt like I was in a dream. It took a day for my brain to emerge from its fog. I think it is still partially submersed in unconsciousness.

I am home now. I’m enjoying the calm, quiet, clear night sky outside on my balcony, feeling painfully homesick.

Where are the people who love me? Sooo far away . . .

A Vegas Story

I went to Vegas for four days. That was a wonderful break for me. You know how much I love my job but no work and no play makes Ruthie a very grumpy and dull girl. I needed interaction with other people who didn’t get excited about blood and gore. I needed to be around other people who didn’t become positively frothing at the mouth at the prospect of tubes and needles sticking out of various human orifices. I certainly needed to meet new people who didn’t feel the need to put their lives in my hands. I needed some time off to not care about other people. Does that sound selfish? Does that even make sense?

If you have never been to Vegas, there is a reason why it’s called Sin City. If you have been to Vegas, then you certainly understand why those who visited go home with the mantra “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.” What a crazy city it is.

Of course, the angel that I am (Jessie, stop laughing. Rose, you too), I hung out with my friends and I went to all the conferences like I was signed up to do. It was lots of fun. It was motivating, inspiring, and, oh so refreshing. I really needed that.

After being in a flightsuit for months, I needed an opportunity to wear something different other than long underwear and blue coveralls. The Gortex boots are really comfy but a girl gets a pedicure for a reason, you know.

So, at the convention, I got my wish. I was dressed in vogue business suits during the day and transformed into ohh la la at night. Okay, I’m exaggerating. (Jessie, Rose, shut up!) For two nights, I agonized over which cocktail dresses to wear. My stress level went up trying to figure out which shoes to wear with the dresses. And, well, the choices for matching purses were positively nerve-wracking.

At the gala night, the hotel mirrors cracked at the intensity of my scrutinizing as I donned my evening gown and adjusted myself to fit it. I tell you, that was not an easy feat. The housekeeping lady would have had a heart attack at the mess I left on the table as I scrambled to put my face together. That was even more of a challenging feat. I managed to find the perfect heels to match and I managed to stay upright all night without tripping or twisting my ankles. THAT was a major accomplishment. I didn’t win any awards but I plan on it next year. I might wear my Gortex boots for that, though. That trek to the stage could be a killer with six-inch heels on.

So, after four days, my spirit was renewed and I went home and soaked my aching feet and took care of the blisters while cursing those darned heels. Ah! The price of beauty. Vanity be damned.

Climbed a fake rock

One of the other nurses and I went indoor rock climbing a few days ago. I was so excited. We worked together the night before and I prayed like hell that we didn't get a late flight. We kinda did. We got back to base at around 2 am. I went to sleep about 2:30 am, and was up by 5. I couldn't wait, though. I was so ready. I've been wanting to do that for a long time. Just needed someone to go with.

We give report. I drive home to go get changed. I'm madly running around the apartment looking for an "outfit". I don't know, what do you wear? I looked in my closet. Red heels. Probably not a good choice in footwear. Other closet. Black pumps. What the?!? Where are my tennis shoes??? I was frantically flipping open all my plastic bins, then . . . I realized I was wearing my tennis shoes already. Besides, I have to rent climbing shoes at the place. Imagine my chagrin . . .

Oh, right! Outfit! Open another closet door. Mini-skirts, pajamas, party dresses . . . darn it! wrong closet! Next closet. Ah, yes. there we go. Shorts, shirt . . . ok. I'm good to go.

As I'm walking out the door, I just had a scary revelation. So, this nurse I'm going with. She's been climbing for 18 years. She has climbed El Capitan at Yosemite four times. She's been to freaking Bangkok to climb some gigantic rock. Me? I've climbed a few trees, fell off a rock wall and completely bruised my entire right side, slid off a boulder and broke my tail bone, and, okay, I climbed some fake rock in Mexico.

I froze in the doorway for a minute thinking about how much of a fool I was going to make of myself. I am going to make it halfway up the beginner's wall and fall down to my shame. I have a master climber for a partner. OMG! At least, I'll give her a good laugh today. Oh, well, what the hell. I'm going.

Afterwards, though, it was great. I did better than I thought. Of course, I was breathing like a steam engine, but I tried to keep my composure even though I felt like collapsing like a ton of bricks. My arms felt like lead. They felt like they blew up about a foot in diameter.

That was so much fun. I'd really like to do that everyday. My muscles hate me right now but they are going to thank me later.

Ooohh! I get to shop for climbing shoes . . . Cool!

What's your aura like?

My sister told me about some guy she talked to during a flight. He apparently can read your aura. That's a little eerie. She said she didn't ask about her aura. I'm not sure that I would have either. I believe that some people have very strong intuition about other people that they can sense your mood and your approximate thoughts from your demeanor or responses to what they say. It's like a sixth sense about other people's emotional and psychological being. Hmmm . . . it's a bit creepy when someone says they can read your aura. It's like being scrutinized naked by a stranger (as in you being naked, not the stranger. That's way too strange). I think I should go get some sleep.

A guy in the desert looking for oil

I talked to my sister today and I was telling her about a guy I met on the airplane on the flight from Tampa to Houston a couple of weeks ago. That conversation certainly was educational. Prior to that, I never even thought about how companies go out and find where to dig for oil. The technology behind it is so amazing. I never would have thought that geophysicists were involved in that kind of thing. I thought they just looked at rocks and told you how old the earth is or something like that. Sheesh! That goes to show you how much I know.

Anyway, so he explained to me how intricate and involved the process is of looking for oil. I didn't realize it took a lot of time to do that and that it involved massive amounts of data (he said terabytes, actually. Good thing I knew what that meant or my brain would have rebelled and shut down right then. I was still awestruck from the new info I was being given).

This is what I have always loved about traveling. You meet so many interesting people and learn stuff that you never would have thought of otherwise. How cool is that to have your horizons widen (gee, that is so cliche) by meeting and talking to people. It's like extending your own experiences. Of course, it helped he knew how to explain his work to me in really simple words so I can follow because, well, I even have difficulty saying the word geophysicist. What - ever!!! You try it. Without my annoying curiosity of asking, I probably would still be thinking that some guy just stands in the middle of the desert surveying the land, sniffing the air, licking his index finger, holding it up to the breeze, and saying, "yup! dig right thar!" See? It's good to be curious. It helps lessen one's ignorance.