Diverticulitis Hospital Stay

Well, I was certainly optimistic in the last post.  I wrote it shortly after settling into my hospital room, still feeling the fentanyl they gave me in the emergency room.  The picture was from the ER and before they hooked up a second IV bag in an attempt to get me rehydrated.  So, nothing much had been happening, now I have something to write about.  Let's start from the beginning...

I felt fine last week, mostly.  Thursday and Friday things that normally happen in the morning happened, but not enough and not well.  Still, I felt normal and figured things would clear out with a little pill to move things along.  Friday evening was the last night I ate food.  Saturday was uncomfortable but still, life goes on and I had things to do and a Badger game on TV so I took another little pill and ran some errands.  I had a bit of time before the game started so I thought taking a walk might help.  I made it around two blocks and was almost doubled over by the time I got back home.  And still, splash mountain had no one riding the ride and my belly hurt even more.  I upped the ante with what I thought would be more effective than the little pill in the afternoon, then again before bed knowing I would be getting up often all night - and I was, just about every hour.  My wife started taking my temperature that afternoon and it fluctuated the rest of the day, between 99.4ºF and 100.8º.  Still, I went to bed hoping to feel better by morning.  In the morning I did not feel better.  I knew I just couldn't take any more of this medicine, I needed outside help but I was unwashed yet so took a very uncomfortable shower and my wife took me to the emergency room.  This was Sunday morning about 11 or so.  

In the emergency room waiting room there were probably about 8 other people, some seemingly okay and others looked like regular visitors, but no one seemed in the distress I was in.  I do know that you can't tell what someone is dealing with just by looking, just sayin'.  Only patients were allowed to wait, any support persons had to wait in their car due to covid so my wife was outside.  After about 15 minutes I was called into a side room where they were taking vitals.  I explained the whole story and she told me it would be a few minutes but they would come and get me, so I waited about 5 minutes in the waiting room again until they called me back.  By this time I couldn't stand straight the pain in my gut was so bad yet I declined the wheelchair and shuffled back to a room where I started to get treatment right away, as hospitals go, anyway.  They put stickers all over my body, gave me an EKG, chest x-ray, and when I asked they called my wife to come back in with me.  Eventually I was wheeled off to have a CAT scan with contrast, ironically in the same room I'd been in twice already this year for my back shots.  When back in the emergency room they put in an IV, then at some point added a second and had them both dumping into my vein at a fast rate.  I was given fentanyl and hooked up to monitors, something they have to do when giving fentanyl I was told, but I asked them to not give me dilaudid as I've needed heavy duty pain killers enough in the past to know it makes me sick.  My Mom texted me about the upcoming Packer game, I texted back for her to cheer for me because I may have to miss it.  A nurse came in and said it looked like they would be keeping me so she had to give me a covid test, the long swab that goes so deep in your sinus it tickles your brain stem.  I found out later it was negative, of course.  Then it was just waiting for a room assignment.

I was finally wheeled off to my room, in time to uncomfortably watch most of the second half of the Packers game.  Well, I was going to feel the same if the game was on or not.  Once I was settled my wife left and I kind of watched the game, and waited.  I couldn't call my Mom, I would have broken down, so I decided to post here about it from my phone.  (I actually had planned a different post about the first snows as I normally note it on the blog every year, but this would have to do.)  Then I texted my Mom to check the blog and told her I would call her the next day.

Then it was Monday and I was in the hospital and I had just been terribly miserable since the fentanyl wore off the prior day.  I had been given morphine as a painkiller since, which didn't make a dent, along with anti-nausea and various other drugs and IVs.  My IV tree had really grown.  I was not allowed food at all but I had no appetite, just ice chips now and again.  This day is kind of a blur, but I remember not sleeping well and having people come in and out, poking, prodding, asking questions, drawing blood, and you name it.  And the damn IV kept beeping so I had to keep calling the nurse in, a new one every few hours it seemed.  Some I saw lots, others I may not have seen at all.  I do remember a brief period of feeling relatively okay and sitting in the chair for a while, otherwise it was miserableness and beeping and getting up often to drag my IV tree into the bathroom with me.  I was feeling pretty icky unclean by this point.  My wife came in the morning and brought me some things to clean up and underclothes, which I greatly appreciated.  I tried to give myself a quick clean-up, but it was difficult.  I remember when I was admitted that they said they would keep me until at least Tuesday, so I was looking forward to that.

Tuesday I felt a bit better and the doctor said he did see improvement, but I knew I wasn't near well yet so I didn't put up much resistance later in the day to having to stay another day.  All this time they had multiple IVs pumping into me; saline, antibiotics and potassium.  I remember early morning still feeling so dehydrated, and when I pinched my knuckle or back of my hand it kept it's shape long enough to indicate I was needing more fluids.  When I discussed with the doctor he agreed and increased my IV rate from 125 ml to 175 ml, and put me on a clear liquid diet.  I was able to get water, juice and jello now to go along with my ice chips.  I was making progress, feeling a bit better though I felt filthier.  I wound up taking two walks around the floor that day to get moving, totaling 52 minutes of active time per my Fitbit, though I'm sure some of that active time was coming down from walking as well.  I also tried to clean myself up more, but my hair was still filthy so I wore a cap.  The best thing that happened this day was that one smart nurse flushed my IV (she said it did feel as if there was a little clot in the end, put a tight roll of gauze in my elbow and covered it with a cotton mesh sheath to hold it all in place.  The damn IV that beeped if you looked at it cross-eyed the last two days finally worked as it should.  My lovely wife brought more supplies and stayed with me for some time.  Also, I had been texting with my Mom so she didn't feel she had to come up and visit, I wasn't very good company anyway.

Wednesday I felt considerably better than I had.  Certainly not healthy but hopefully healthy enough to go home.  By this point I was utterly exhausted from uncomfortable sleep when I did sleep, and nurses coming in and out at all hours giving me pills, changing IV's, drawing blood, etc.  I saw the doctor early and he was encouraged, upgrading me to a normal diet so I ordered hash browns, one scrambled egg and an english muffin.  Food that I thought would be bland enough to start my system with again.  By mid-morning I could no longer stand the filth.  I rang the nurse and asked for towels and shampoo and new gown and bedding.  I didn't think I was allowed to shower due to the IV, but she taped a sleeve over the area and let me do it.  Man, I wish I had done that sooner as I felt so much better.  They don't make any effort to keep you clean in there, it's up to you.  I took another walk around the floor and waited, hoping I would be let out that day.  On my walk I saw the doctor, he told me he was going to check my blood potassium levels again and a get a stool sample for bacteria shortly.  Sure enough, someone was there to get my blood at the designated time and I ordered a piece of cherry pie and some ice cream to help get things moving for the other sample.  That afternoon I was allowed to be discharged as the sample came back good and my potassium had risen, though not enough but I would get pills to take when I got home.  By last night I was finally home, but it is still apparent I have much more healing to do.  Any kind of shape or conditioning I had has left me as I huff and puff over the smallest tasks now and still feel very weak, but I did go four and a half days without food.

That's my memories of the last few days as I remember them at this moment.  I did take some pictures when I was feeling up to it, but not many.  I'll throw some in here, I think, but this is long so I'm not going to proofread, just put it out there.

The takeaways?  Diverticulitis is highly uncomfortable and can be scary considering your colon has a perforation.  I have a wonderful and patient wife.  And people in the hospital are filthy.  Now I must rest, take my pills and get something to eat.  Please stay well, folks.