I was thinking about taking a shower this morning when the housekeeper came in to collect trash, scrub the sink etc and mop the floor. I watched her quietly, and as she mopped near the bed I told her thank you.  I added a moment later that I would love to be able mop floors again soon too, and she was making it safer for me so I could get healthier.

She mopped extra and with great care and a smile after that.  Her work is as important in its way as everybody else’s here, and I knew it must be meaningful to her for that. Having someone acknowledge that out loud and thank her–it was what I could offer her.

When we acknowledge the importance of what someone does for us, however mundane a thing it may be, we acknowledge the inherent service and kindness behind it.  I say this with a sense of wonder at the love I felt bloom in the room. I was not helpless no matter my condition, nor being helped; service is far greater than that.  Rather, we were equals on every level before God in that moment.

A new doctor came by and basically said, wow, you look a lot better than I would have expected after seeing your labwork.  But she said I ought to meet the surgeons sooner rather than later; there’s still a possibility of losing the colon and she didn’t want it to be under emergency circumstances.

I mentioned the second Humira dose (two epipens’ worth for the second dose) is to be Tuesday, and we all hoped.

I have a team of gastroenterologists working on me, and I’ve been impressed at how very careful and thorough they are.

And a few minutes ago Mom and Richard and I were taking a very short walk outside my room when I exclaimed, “BRIAN!!! I’d recognize the back of that head anywhere!”

Brian turned around, surprised, and my favorite old nurse from six years ago and I threw our arms around each other.  SO good to see him. Although I prefered doing so, say, after the last time I ever knit a pair of socks: they were for him.  As a thank you for being willing to walk in his patients’ shoes.

He’s a good one.

The initial test results are in, and you may not believe it, but the doctor said her colon looked “Moth eaten.”  This is not good as apparently she has lots of ulcers about the size of a cigarette burn all over her colon.  This is significantly worse than the pictures they showed me 3 weeks ago.

The docs have a theory to explain why she is as bad off as she is, and if the tests are positive for what they suspect, it should be treatable.  It would be a good outcome, as it would explain several things, although the long term ramifications are not completely clear for me at this point.

Alison has been bad, or more correctly her body is not cooperating. So she is now in the hospital for fluids, PPN/TPN, and tests. She was unable to eat or drink anything without paying too high a price. She is still reading comments, but is one sick lady.

And second day no fever (at least so far)! Double yay!

I got gently chewed out for drinking a lot of water Monday instead of anything else: I needed a little more salt.  And sugar. Calories.  And to get some protein in there for the recovery. So today I downed a chalky Trader Joe’s gross Protein With Pizzazz bottle and felt very proud of myself. It’s been eight days since the Humira, six till the next dose, and I keep hoping for things to settle down, but my system’s angry at being fed.  Well, pbbbbt to it–I’ll sit on the can and drink my smoothies if it has to be that way (and it has at times).  But I am gradually making some progress, even if I’m impatient with it.

I managed to eat more last night and this morning, but I’ve been paying for it with lots of bleeding, whereas the bleeding had gone way down. After the 10th time since midnight, I thought, okay, self. All these people are praying for you: tap into that.  And so I asked for your prayers to be working to help my bleeding to at least go way down.

And then it did. So far so good now.  And I’m actually sitting up typing–this was unthinkable earlier, because I’ve been extremely weak today.

The doctor just put me on potassium pills because mine was so low. (Guess which rebellious soul drank zero gatorade yesterday and then got her blood tested in the afternoon?)

I totally missed the Inauguration. Can’t wait for next week’s Newsweek, and when I’m up to it I will look up videos online.  The important thing is, it happened.

And as always, I am very much in your debt for your comments and caring.  Thank you.

Yesterday was scary: blood pressure was through the roof in startling numbers.  Me? The low bp person? Heart rate 133 a few times, but always high.  Didn’t LIKE.

Today they let me cut way back on the gatorade the doctor was hoping would counteract the effects of the diarrhea, and back by half on the prednisone. I was going to start taking just one in the morning and skip the evening dose, but I barfed everything two minutes after taking my meds. So. I guess I take the doses in the evenings while we taper it off.

And my bp was high, but not dangerous. My pulse 85. That’s a whole lot better.

Richard went to the bathroom and I heard my barf bowl careen off the side of the shower: it’s a kitchenaid metal mixing bowl.  I said to him, So. You went to the bathroom and kicked the bucket?

“The doctor said the recovery would not be linear.  This is a non-linear day.” The fever is not bad today, but the patient is beat up and exhausted by 12:30.  The “they” don’t have the heart to bully her at the moment.  She is miserable.  Hopefully with a good sleep she will fill better this evening. Her mom says she felt well enough this morning to try to get her hair washed, and that completely wiped her out.

I spiked a 103+ fever this morning.  Mom and Richard counted off the number of doctors who said that if I kept doing that I needed to be in Stanford.  This being the weekend, the doctors can’t arrange admittance over the phone; I’d have to go to the ER and wait for hours.

So I got that temp down to under 100 and they let up on me.  So far.  And I actually got some food down for the first time in days.

Yesterday was the purest form of hell I ever care to go through.  Drinking two full glasses of barium when you can’t keep a few ounces down…  Somehow with a lot of prayer I did it.  Took a very long time.

Today I’m below 101F so far and am sitting up just long enough to say how good it feels to be slightly more human.

With all those bags of saline in the evening, I felt like an injected and bathed in brine Butterball turkey, and pictured the turkey being used as a bowling ball, thrown down the aisle.  Bumpity bumpity STRIKE!

To use her own words, “I don’t feel very good.”. Last night we had a scare when her fever spiked up to 104.3F. We got it back down, but they did not like that. Today was labs, CT scan, x-rays, and consultations. She is getting 4 liters of fluids as we have failed to bully her into drinking enough. We are waiting on the medicine to let her body heal.

To those who wonder, I did the original post while at Urgent Care waiting on the IVs to drain into her as she dozed.  She has asked me to post when she could not, and she was not at all up to it today.  I showed the post to her, but I am not sure she really could read it.   Mobile devices can make your life easier sometimes, and posting the status gave me something to do the 6 hrs we were there.  I also introduced my mother-in-law to the joys of an iTouch by letting her watch “The Curse of the Were Rabbit” while Alison slept.  Gotta love Wallace and Grommit.  Besides Grommit Knits.

(Pardon the whine.)  Fever 101 this morning.  Prednisone at half dose, which tends to create a crash-and-burn effect too.Plus the usual Crohn’s-y stuff.

Yesterday I stood outside Richard’s office door at home and marveled, Can you believe it!

No, he answered, but I Iike it.

I’m gradually picking up steam again.  But I’m not walking down the hall yet.

Last night, when we got home from Urgent Care (again), there was a glorious knitter’s basket outside our door: the very best yarns, cards, a hat, cashmere fingerless gloves–Richard waved each piece in front of my nose but I could barely open my eyes, but let me tell all you local knitters at Purlescence, we were thrilled. I’m still working towards being able to really admire it when I can walk over there a little better.

I answered a text message with three words after we got home and was instantly in the most intense pain for three hours, but I had to let Jasmin know that yes we got it.  I mean, how could I not answer her?  (Well, yeah, I should have let someone else do it.)

So I did not expect today to be great.

I woke up to the phone ringing 8ish? with the UPS guy wanting to know if he could drop it off at the door. Yes. He put the box down at 9:20 and Mom flung the door open and yelled “THANK YOU!” after him.

I’d fallen back asleep and then I woke up with a sense of a profound light bursting over a wall in front of me.

They wanted me at my doctor’s for observation while the Humira went in.  Four epipens today for the first dose.  Lene, you’re right, it stung but oh wow did it feel wonderful to finally have it be going in.

We got home again, I bled some more and collapsed asleep in bed till now.  I am actually sitting up in bed–I can hardly believe it.  Yesterday, moving any single muscle connected to my stomach had me bleeding and barfing, and how many things does that leave you? You can nod your head. You can wiggle your eyebrows. That’s it.  Today is night and day away from that. Not that I want to feel like I do now, but… Hope and the beginning of healing are an incredible thing.

The nurse warned us it’s not instant healing, though; you have to generate new cells. Often takes about a week. But after what I’ve been through, if that week is like right now, I can handle that.  I’ve certainly done worse.

I cannot tell you how much your thoughts, faith, prayers, and messages mean to us and I thank you for taking the time to do it.  God bless all of you.

She has been too weak to do more than a little reading today.  We took her in for IV fluids and anti-nausea drugs.  That helps, but is rough on her.  She ask me to post her status, which is she feels lousy.  The good news is the medicine she has been waiting for is shipped and should arrive tomorrow morning.  It is supposed to be very fast acting, which we pray is really the case.  The treatment should start tomorrow.  Then we get to rebuild her strength.  Thanks for all your prayers and good wishes.  She does read all the comments, but is too weak to respond at this time.

RichH

Lady at Caremark got us to someone there trying to expedite–but: first they needed a new copy of the Rx.  Can they explain that to me please?  WHY? Dr R got immediately on it.  Humira might come tomorrow.

Mom spooned food in so I wouldn’t barf it if I sat up.  I love my mom.