Hospital Holiday: Take 2

If we revisited the year 2021, it felt like the year that everything that could go wrong did. All the surgeries, all the infections, all the IVs, PICC lines, medications, appointments, etc.

Going into my DIEP flap surgery, I worked hard with my therapist to acknowledge and challenge my PTSD ‘knowing’ that something was going to go wrong, again.

Throughout my nearly three weeks post op, I lived in a constant state of fear. Double checking every incision and drain site. Last Wednesday at my post op appointment, the kind P.A. reassured me EVERYTHING LOOKED GREAT! I left with relief, but I was exhausted. I had not slept in days because of extreme discomfort and probably anxiety. The PA gave me new medication and I climbed into bed ready for sleep at 8:00pm.

Little did I know what was about to come crashing down - or rather, crashing back.

C.Diff - and she came back with vengeance.

That night at 4:00 am I lurched awake with knives driving through my stomach. Not wanting to wake Jordan (or the curly headed stowaway in our bed), I ran to the guest bathroom. I will spare you the details, but let’s just say I was there for a long, long time.

Sleep was no where in sight, but in the morning I crawled to my closet thinking I could still make it to my much awaited therapy appointment that morning. I had not seen my therapist since before my surgery. My dream of sitting on my beloved therapist’s couch vanished when I had to sit down to brush my teeth. I looked in the mirror and my translucent, paper-white skin frightened me. I knew there was no way I could leave the house. Jordan found me sobbing after I sent a text saying I could not make my appointment. He put me into bed and told me I needed to rest, but rest never came.

At 11:30 am, I ran to the bathroom, but this time I was covered in sweat and unable to stand, sit, or even hold my head up. I text my sister (notorious for ignoring text messages):

911 I’ve been asleep. Now I’m shaky and about to puke.

Her phone said: Jessica has silenced notifications. I hit that Notify Anyway button with every last piece of energy I had and made my text blow up on her phone, probably disrupting a meeting about the future of science and world peace.

As most people know, Jordan works all day, every day - even Saturdays. For some God-wink reason, he was home. I text him and he came running to find me on the floor. Jessica saw my text and immediately called, barking questions and orders to Jordan.

He ran to get his blood pressure cuff (a staple accessory for all 40+ households). The results were terrifying.

70/39. “Get her to the ER. NOW.” My sister yelled over the phone. Jordan did not know if I could make it to the car and mentioned 911. I lay lifeless on the floor, able to hear, but not talk. My brain was still fully capable to tally an ambulance bill and I started crawling my way to the car. Team Dempsey can’t afford another medical layaway plan.

The rest is a blur. In my dehydrated/warped mind, I thought this would be an afternoon ER visit. Get some fluids and be home by dinner. WRONG. My blood pressure was dangerously low and I was severely dehydrated. My little ‘afternoon of fluids’ turned into a three day, two night holiday vacation at the hospital. Cue the Jet2Holiday voiceover.

They took all the blood and cultures, triple checking if the infection was back, but we all knew what was back - CDIFF. Last time was a mild case of CDiff, this time I was the lucky winner of CDiff Toxin B - the more toxic and damaging kind.

After the CT scan, confirmed an inflamed colon (colitis), I was sent to my new room at Baptist hospital. I forced Jordan to leave and go home to be with the kids, much to his chagrin and very kind offers from the best of friends. I knew it would be a long night and there was no need to make another person suffer. Plus, Jordan and I perfected the hospital merry-go-round years ago when Marjorie was sick. He is the keeper of things and peace at home, even if that means leaving me alone at the hospital.

The pain from dehydration was unbearable. My head felt like someone was slowly shoving a burning poker through it. Everything from my back to my skin ached like I had the flu on crack. (And no, it was not the flu - they tested me).

In the middle of the night, as nurses kept trying (unsuccessfully) to give me another IV, I just told myself, “Home tomorrow. You will be home tomorrow.” Tears silently rolled out of the corners of my closed eyes. Home tomorrow, McCall.

The next morning I was met with more bad news. Another night. My blood pressure remained low and now my body added fever to its bingo card. F*CK. Jordan brought me my usual hospital requests: nice face wipes, lotions, hairbrush, and dry shampoo. I needed to feel somewhat human. That is the number one hospital hack: dry shampoo and nice lotion.

My spirits were lifted on Friday with an extraordinary nurse who finally advocated for me to get a drug that actually helped my dehydration migraine. Plus, a ‘day date’ with Jordan. His always positive spin on life is nothing short of spectacular.

The next morning the doctor informed me if I kept my blood pressure up and did not spike another fever I could go home in the afternoon. I held my breath with every vital reading, praying to pass like I did for high school physics.

FREEDOM.

I made it home Saturday afternoon, before 3:30pm as requested by Jordan - Ole Miss Rebels kick off. Just being home has healed me ten times over. The chaos, noise, children - both two and four legged. (Yes, the kids are in shark onesies. Apparently, Marjorie bribed Jordan to buy them because she was ‘so good’ while I was in the hospital.)

I slept until 11:45pm today. I am pretty sure last time that happened, I was in college after a long day in the Ole Miss Grove. Today, has been (dare to say) blissful. I have taken it VERY easy, but spent all day by our pool soaking in the outdoor air. Marjorie swam with Jordan and Manning and I played Scrabble. I’m tired, but content.

Last night, I settled into the bed and became overwhelmed with emotion. I choked back tears knowing this familiar post-hospital ‘what-the-hell-just-happened’ feeling. Rather than sit in that feeling, I turned on a movie for distraction. I did not have the energy to feel any feeling.

The processing will come next time I plop down on the couch, but until then I am relishing in just being home and focusing on my recovery. Feeling grateful for all the love, prayers, and messages. A huge thank you to all of my amazing friends for scooping up kids and helping out at the last minute. To my sister, for being the ER doc by proxy and telling Jordan what to do and say. To my momma, for having the car gassed and ready to hit the road. And the biggest thank you of all to my Jordan for always being the epitome of “In sickness and in health”. I am afraid to think the ‘what if’ if you weren’t home, but we won’t dwell on that. For now, it is snuggles and sleep with the Dempsey Zoo.