Thursday, January 21, 2016
At six o'clock I started to throw up, by seven I couldn't stop, and by eight I started having a fever. By ten o'clock I was in the Emergency Room and there were two clues that things had gotten very bad very fast. One is that my husband, a man trained in the art of intensive care, was both looking very anxious and being very demanding. The second was that I was so dizzy in the triage area that I did not think I could keep from passing out, and the bench I was sitting on wasn't quite wide enough to completely lie flat on so I seriously thought about lying on the floor. Of the Emergency Room. Then I knew I was sick, and made a greater effort to get flat on the bench I had.
Things went swiftly from there, and within an hour I was in the ICU with several people calmly working on me while I had lots of fluids and antibiotics flowing freely. It took some time to turn the corner and for me to get out of the hospital again, but it made me very hesitant to get too far from a good Emergency Room until chemotherapy and it's attendant risks are behind me.