This is going to be one of those statements that has everybody saying, "Well, duh!" but -- head injuries have repercussions.
I wasn't doing so well after the accident, which I figured was one of those things a person should expect after a serious wreck like that. I was t-boned at 55 mph by a car, for cryin' out loud. Knocked unconscious. Broken bones, bruised internal organs, concussion, head laceration, facial injuries, all that stuff. When they released me from Palmetto Health Richland, I guess I figured that was their way of telling me to go home and heal, that they'd checked all the systems and the damage wasn't all that bad.
Hah.
Sunday things started getting bad. Monday was bad, too. Tuesday was worse. I didn't know what was happening, all I knew was I felt like crap. I couldn't move my arms or legs -- well, I could, it was just very difficult -- I couldn't eat, didn't want to drink anything. Just vegged out on the recliner and ran my husband ragged trying to figure out what was wrong and what I needed. It got so bad that afternoon that he called 911.
The paramedics that showed up, both women (not that that matters), weren't very impressive. I didn't notice, but Hubby told me later he didn't care for their apparent lack of urgency or ability to figure out such problems as getting the stretcher into the house. My inability to walk was a problem for them. Hubby caught up with us, btw, before we got to the hospital. And he'd flown around the house for 15 minutes getting things squared away after we'd gone before he left. No, they didn't think there was all that much wrong with me.
The ER didn't draw blood or do any urinalysis testing. Their assessment was that I was having a migraine. I was quite certain I wasn't, but I was in no condition to argue with anybody about anything. They did give me a saline drip, which inadvertently helped (more about that later) and some meds and sent me home.
Wednesday morning I had a follow-up appointment with one of the trauma team doctors so she could pull the staples out of my head. She didn't draw blood either, although I suppose that isn't standard and she would have had no reason to think she needed to. I filled in her tech on my symptoms, which were dutifully typed into the computer. I got a couple of pain prescriptions and left. We stopped by the in-laws to visit briefly but I wasn't feeling well so we cut it short and went home.
Wednesday afternoon I started throwing up. It should go without saying that while throwing up all by itself is no fun, throwing up with broken ribs truly sucks.
Hubby was up all night with me Wednesday, feeding me ice chips (which turned out to be a mistake) and slices of grape. Seriously, he was giving me slices of grapes because I was not confident of my ability to keep anything down. I think he probably got thirty minutes of sleep all night and if that and leaping up from the couch every time I made a noise doesn't earn him a medal I don't know what does.
Thursday morning he made an appointment for me to see a doctor at Shaw AFB. They were able to see me right away, thank God, so we went in. She spoke to me about what had happened, and what was going on now, and said she wanted to send me to Tuomey (where I'd been Tuesday evening) for tests because the tests she wanted to have done they weren't equipped for at Shaw. She said she wanted to send me in an ambulance because she wanted me to get seen soonest. Then she stepped out to set it up.
I remember telling Hubby, who was with me (again, thank God) that I felt like I was going to throw up again. He went to help me to the sink, then I decided I wasn't and sat back. Next thing I knew there were all these people all around me.
I'd passed out. Hubby said I twitched a couple of times, and then he realized that even though my eyes were open I was not there. He leaped out into the hallway and yelled for help, which arrived immediately.
I got to go with lights and siren that time. The guys who took me were simply outstanding, and I'm not just saying that because they're military. They were just clearly light years past that other team in ability and smarts and training and common sense and everything else. When we got to the ER this time they drew blood and took a urine sample and found out that my sodium level had dropped so low I was on the verge of having seizures.
Seems my pituitary gland got thumped in the accident, along with everything else. And began releasing an enzyme "inappropriately" as one ER doc put it. The enzyme told my body to hold onto water. Which is why the ice chips, even though that's what they tell you to do if you're throwing up because you might get dehydrated, were such a big mistake. I remember hearing two numbers from the ER docs about what my sodium level was, one was 114 and one was 118. Seizure time happens at 112. Low normal is 140, I think. So basically I was in a lot of trouble. Sure would have been helpful if the ER folks had drawn blood Tuesday. In their defense, this particular effect is apparently rare.
So they admitted me to the hospital last Thursday and started me on a special saline drip with potassium after finishing dumping (and I mean dumping) another full bag of regular saline solution into my veins. They told me I'd see an endocrinologist first thing the next morning.
What does "the next morning" mean to you? To me, it's maybe seven, eight in the a.m. given that I'm in the hospital. Things may happen earlier. Well, in this case "first thing" in the morning means first thing. In the morning. As in two minutes after midnight, I am not making this up, the door opens and in walks the endocrinologist. Nice guy, but holy cow. He didn't like the solution they had me on, said it was a mistake, even though it was a special drip. So he discontinued it (which meant I no longer had to roll the thing into the bathroom with me every time I had to pee, hooray) and put me on salt pills and a few other things.
They drew blood every morning to check. Took me off the salt pills Sunday, and waited another 48 hours to make sure. And released me today. Looks like my pituitary gland has recovered.
I do want to say the people up on the fifth floor at Tuomey (Medical 5) are absolutely the best. They were wonderful. I didn't meet a single person who wasn't very professional and compassionate and just plain remarkable. I can't wait for the survey to arrive, I'm going to give them all the highest ratings I can. They were stupendous.
Also, did you know that while you're in the hospital they give you injections to prevent blood clots (DVT)? They give you these shots in your stomach. They don't hurt any worse than any other shot, but... in your stomach.
I do have much to be thankful for. I'm feeling okay. I'm able to get my own food and drink and won't be frightening Hubby anymore. I hope.
And by the way -- I truly do not know what I would have done without him. He has been an absolute brick. I've told him this but I don't think I can ever repay him for all he's done and yes I know it's not about being repaid but he has just gone above and beyond for the past two weeks without complaining or hesitating. And then he tells me he doesn't know how I did it for the week and a half he was in the hospital in Columbia two years ago after his heart attack. I don't see how it compares. All I did was drive.
Anyway, I'm home. Hallelujah.
Fireplace
High/Vaulted ceiling
