Late night ER

Last night, after days without any sleep, more need for oxygen, and what seems like an infection (even though I am on IV antibiotics) we made our way to the ER. I rarely go to the ER. It never makes sense to since I can often call my doctors and wait for a ward bed at home, avoiding the ER all together. But after speaking to one of my doctors last night, she was concerned enough about the situation to tell me to head over to the ER: She would meet me there.

Martin, my mom, and my dad packed me up and got everything organized for leaving. My mom and Martin would stay with Scarlett, my dad would drive me. Once I got dressed and ready, I really had a very hard time walking down the stairs to the car. Once I reached the front porch I had a coughing fit and coughed up tons of tar-like mucus. Those coughing spells leave me so tired, and part of my wanting to go to the hospital, is that I am starting to feel that being home is unsafe. In case I stop breathing as a result of these spells, I want to be in a safe place that can keep me safe until those lungs come. So off we went.

After that coughing spell, I felt much better. I was able to work less to breathe. For those of you who have never seen someone that is working to breathe from a medical perspective, it's much like seeing someone running to their full capacity on a treadmill. The difference being, with a treadmill there is always a way to step off, and recover. Once the cycle of working hard starts it can last minutes (when I walk too fast to the bathroom, desaturat, but gain my breath back when I sit down or rest), hours (after or before a coughing spell) or when in severe respiratory arrest for days. From being there before, it is by far the worst thing to go through in my opinion. When the heart rate never goes down, the shortness of breath never ceases, the treadmill never stops, it's torture. It can also be incredibly spirit breaking. You just want it to end, that's all you think about. Sometimes I would just sit in bed in the middle of the night and cry, that's all I had as an outlet for the breathlessness.

After about 2 days of this situation, and without the ability to sleep with a heart rate of 135 bmp, enough was enough. I could not do enough physio, or nebulized therapy to calm this down. I knew I had to go to the hospital. I welcomed anything at that point that would make it better.

At the ER, I met my doctor, who was quick to establish a new plan of action. New antibiotics (thank god for my Port - this saved a lot of time so that we could get blood work done, start new meds and not have me in more discomfort than I was already in - I LOVE MY PORT) and the Bi-Pap machine. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Positive_airway_pressure Here is a link to what the Bi-Pap is and what it does. I will not get into it here, but it's a great thing! Has calmed me down and actually gave me the opportunity to sleep last night, if only for a few hours. It's not an easy thing to have on your face, but it's relief. At this point it's about small victories.

Today I feel much better. I have a crazy cough, but I am getting the stuff up. As for staying at the hospital for longer, I think right now I am set on trying to wait out the rest of my transplant wait here. It's a hard thing to think about, being away from home, from Scarlett, from the comforts of that life. But the fact is, home is very hard when you are in my state. I don't want to become more and more of a burden to my family, so I tend not to ask for help with some things, and get more tired. I am terrible for asking for help. Terrible. I hate it. But in the hospital I feel that everyone will get some rest from this. I know that Scarlett is happy and well. I know that people must think how can I possibly be away from her now, but the reality is, it is for her that I am here. To make sure that I can get a bit better (perhaps gain some weight and lung function) before the call comes. Staying at home and risking anything, just for the sake of being physically close to Scarlett is silly. It's childish. I am a mother, and I have to act for her.

One day Scarlett will say, mom it must have been terrible to be away from me when I was just 2 months old, after you waited for me for 9 months. and to her I will say. Yes it was terrible. but the fact is, it was a war I was fighting. A war being fought inside me, inside my body, and in war we do whatever it takes to stay alive. All mom's would do the same thing. It's not about what's comfortable, certainly not about what I want. It's about life and death.

As I sit here in the hospital, I have watched a movement start regarding organ donation on facebook and beyond. We have had friends send letters to the media, and post countless links to recycleme as well as my blog. The letters of support and love have been incredible. This outpouring, often from people I have never met, as well as dear friends has been such a victory for organ donation. With the way that this is spreading on facebook, I would not be surprised that many people waiting for organs in Ontario will get their wish sooner, or just in time, just by reminding everyone to talk to their loved ones about their wishes. The power of this type of media to get people talking is incredible. I am so moved by the movement.