My arms and hands are bruised from the many many blood draws and IV sticks. My veins became unruly by day two, my skin blooming with purple and green blackberry splotches after every failed attempt.
There was never more than three hours of uninterrupted sleep. The second day, my plantar fasciitis erupted out of no where—-excruciating pain when I put any weight on my heels. Hobbling to the bathroom with an IV pole, a failing bladder and useless feet made a few nights almost unbearable.
I had sepsis. Staph entered my blood stream most likely through my port; it’s not uncommon and one of the most dangerous complications of cancer treatment. It’s also awful.
Just two short days before I was admitted, I had my 3-month CT scan. It was completely clear!
And again, we hardly had time to absorb and celebrate the (incredibly!) good news before this latest set back grabbed me by the collar. I feel like half of myself. Paul is full time parent, part time nurse, and somewhere in there he is also holding down his job. He doesn’t complain, but I know he feels the sting of the whiplash too, can’t we ever just get a break?