It was Monday morning and I had awoke to get Isadora out if bed, and do the morning ritual. A bottle, some goofing around, then breakfast and more goofing around. Isa and I are on the living room floor playing with her toys, and I decide to get a glass of juice for myself before I get her breakfast going. I had woken up with a bit of an ache in my abdomen, but dismissed it as the consequences of a weekend working in the yard.
After a moment (and I mean I barely made it the five steps back into the living room from the kitchen) I found myself doubled over in pain on my knees in front of Isa. She thought I was playing a game at first, but then started to wonder. She had that "what the F^[< game is this? I don't think I like it" look on her face.>
I yelled for Emily. She must have heard the pain in my voice because she was there in a heartbeat. I remember describing the pain and then literally begging her in my agony "Please help me".
I don't remember a lot more until we were in the car pulling up to Tucson Medical Center's emergency room. Em put my in a wheel chair, rolled me inside to the check in and dashed back out to park the car and get Isa. The first thing the check out guy asks me is my name and Date of Birth. I am not sure if he asked anything else of relevance except when he asked me to rate my pain on a scale of one to ten. I groaned/whimpered "Ten."
Mind you, I have had open heart surgery. I have broken my tail bone (long story). I have blown my ACL and had reconstructive surgery. I have had the shingles. Nothing, NONE OF THESE, compare with the amount of pain I was in at that moment.
The guy rolled me into the back and was talking to someone. I couldn't sit up any longer. I rolled out of the wheelchair, onto the floor and assumed the fetal position. I heard a woman say "He's on the floor now". The guy came and picked me up and they rolled me to a bed.
They took blood, gave me an IV and some morphine. Let me tell you this about morphine. The shit is not useless but definitely not as effective as it ought to be. They shot me up twice with that shit before it finally just made me pass out. When I woke up the pain was still there. In my opinion, putting someone to sleep is not really treating their pain. But that is just me.
A doctor (I forget his name but I think he may have been from India or another asian country) came in wand woke me up. He said I had Pancreatitis and would have to be admitted. I am sure I asked him a few questions but I don't really remember much. Frankly, I am not even sure Emily was there.
I spent the next two days being shot up with deluadin (???) and sleeping about 20 hours a day. Which upon my discharge I found out the doctor was doing intentionally. Upon retrospect, I thank him greatly. The guy was a good doctor, I asked him about other risks, about withdrawal from the drugs he was giving me and told him about my recently diagnosed Valley Fever (which is another thing that sucks, particularly paired with Palo Verde' s in bloom and grasses going to seed - I know I am a mess, right?). He followed up on all my questions and gave me very comprehensive answers. Honestly, if I couldn't go to my regular Primary Care Doctor and this dude had a practice, I would go to him.
But so now for the post discharge aftermath. I spent two days eating nothing but broth while reading up on this stuff. It can be caused for a variety of reasons. But of most interest to me was excessive use of alcohol. The literature says this is one of the more common reasons unless you have gall stones, an excessively fatty diet, or are prone to it as a chronic condition. Having never had it before, having a decent diet for the past few years, and not having gall stones, that left me to be "most common". I had asked the doctor specifically about the valley fever and he said the two were unrelated.
I used to have 3-5 glasses of wine a night. With the rare occasion of running into free scotch, that is about it. I never missed work, am a successful student. and I think a pretty decent Dad (although we can always do better at that type of thing). I never believed for a moment that I was using alcohol excessively. Alcoholism runs in my family. My father and my brother have had issues with it. As have I in the past, though mine were usually associated with some sort of traumatic event. But excessive use????
Anyway, in a week or so, I am supposed to be able to have a glass of red wine occasionally. But we will see how that goes. But the other thing that this brings to mind is that my fathers health issues began at about the same time as mine have in my life (heart defect being the exception). So it makes me question how well I am going to be able to do this. These plans for us. This life.
I am basically attempting to revamp my entire career. I have a beautiful, fun and happy crazy little person to chase after, provide for, help grow and take care of. And I feel like I am not doing enough to support my wife or even just interact with her. This past two weeks I know that is true, because it has been on my mind.
We have big plans. We want to have a camp/small farm and run a business bringing people in and educating them about sustainable living while also selling produce and other goods that we (and those that come to learn) make.
But first I have to get back into the workforce (which will take about another year). And we have to start saving. At this rate I don't see it happening for at least another ten years. We may be able to do our own stuff on a small scale before then, but not enough to make a living. We will still both have to work.
So with all these health problems and the family history, in ten or fifteen years am I going to be able to do this? It has me a bit preoccupied.
But there is still work to do. School starts back up in a month or so. I have my Fingerprint clearance card so I can start substitute teaching, and Em has a job as an english teacher for the next year. Things are looking good.
I'll do the best I can to take care of myself and my family. We will get there. Someday. Even if I end up just being the old dude that sits on the porch and tells you about how animals behave, or how those mountains were formed, or what plants are around and what to look for to find your way. I'll be there.
Pancreatitis. Imagine that.
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