I need to preface this by saying to my parents and daughter who are hearing this here and not from me personally to chill out. I wasn’t about to call any of you in the middle of the night.
We all know now that I have sarcoidosis back again and it’s bad in my lungs. There are also a bunch of as-yet unidentified tumor like growths in my lower lungs. Tests are already underway and I hope to have some answers in the early new year. But on Saturday I started coughing. By Saturday night I was coughing hard enough that I couldn’t sleep very well, almost at all. Yesterday Shawn asked me a few times if I wanted to go to the hospital. I kept saying no, even though knew it was not good. I was struggling to catch my breath, to breathe. I just didn’t want to admit defeat. Plus, it is our secret Santa day at work and I badly wanted to be there for the reveal and I knew time at the hospital would most likely necessitate at least one day at home.
However, when crying in the bathroom at one in the morning holding the wall because the coughs are literally bending me in half, and begging Shawn to come in and help me, it was time to admit that I needed medical help. We arrived at the ER just around two am.
It was not a long wait before they brought us back. They called me and another woman and put her in a room first and kept walking me down the hall. I knew it, before they even said it. Room 15. The very room where, on September 19,2014 at just after 4pm, Shawn’s heart stopped and our lives as we knew them, changed. Shawn tightened his grip on my hand and asked me if I was going to be okay. What could either of us say or do, though? It’s not the kind of situation where you can request a room change. In the ER you take what you are given and you’re thankful for it. And I was. But man was it weird. The room looked both bigger and smaller at the same time. Every single space held a memory. When the nurse left me to change, I pointed to the back left corner of the room and told him “that’s where I stood”.
Several people came in and out, listening to my lungs. I was given steroids and told my oxygen sat was low, but not dangerous. Then I was given an inhaler. The respiratory doctor felt that it’s pretty clearly bronchitis, however, with the sarcoidosis (most likely flared up) my lungs are extra sensitive and vulnerable to infection.
They sent me home shortly after seven with prescriptions and instructions to come back if it stays or gets that bad again.
Shawn drove me to my office to drop off the secret Santa gift along with the two gifts I had bought for kids for the children’s party happening later today. I refused to be the reason that two boys would be the only two to miss out on their gift from Santa.
So now I’m at home taking my meds and resting so that my lungs can settle so that I can hopefully be at work tomorrow. And while I hate the way steroids make me feel, I’ll take that over fighting to breathe any day.
I’m so looking forward to the holidays and some very quiet downtime. Be well, friends. And Keisha, we can FaceTime tonight.