I thought I knew what tough days were until I just lived the worst couple days of my life. I am ever so grateful to be alive. Let me try and re-enact my life these past couple days.....

Friday morning I woke up with a very sore back. I thought, oh no I hope this isn’t what I think it is. I don’t have time for any deviation from plan. I quickly took two Tylenol and tried to forget about what I knew deep down was going to be inevitable. Eager I continued packing and getting ready for my flight to Texas. I was going to Texas to see my Sister and nothing was getting in the way of this trip. As her husband had been deployed to war two months prior.  My trip to Texas to help her with her busy world as an Army wife. A world entangled with managing a 6 month old and a 2 ½ year old. On the way to the airport, I repositioned myself several times in the car trying to get comfortable.

My airline flight was scheduled with one layover. Total travel time was 5 hours and 24 minutes. With an adequate amount of dread and anticipation, traveling with my 1 ½ year old daughter was going to be enough of a challenge. My back continued to hurt like I was being stabbed by some mean bully. Pop, there goes another Tylenol. The flight was excruciating. Not because the travel itself was grueling but because I had a 1 ½ year old climbing all over me. Normally, I wouldn’t complain about being a human jungle gym. However my back now felt like I had elephants dancing on it. At some point during the flight I also realized either someone turned the heat up to scorch or I had a fever. This was the deal sealer; I knew I had a serious problem on my hands. With the fevers, the feeling of being stabbed and elephants dancing on my back, I knew this problem that was going to need medical attention.

My sister picked me up upon arrival to Texas. After the endearing hugs and the how was your flight routine, I broke the bad news. I told her about the fever and the pain. She could relate and knew exactly how I was feeling. You see my sister and I have more in common than blood. We also both have had what is called Pyelonephritis. Pyelonephritis is also defined as a kidney infection. We knew I had to seek medical help as this would just linger for days and get much worse. Possibly requiring admission to the hospital. We commiserated on how the pain possibly equates to that of child birth. Or as my sister can relate to getting a tattoo on your sternum. Driving to her house from the airport was the longest two hours of my life. The drive included but wasn’t limited to, one stop for the kids to get food and a stop to buy a thermometer to check my fever. 102 degrees it registered and that was after taking another dose of Tylenol. At this point I thought I was going to die from the pain and I knew Tylenol was no longer cutting it. Turn, reposition, turn, as I try to get comfortable during the ride.

After the very uncomfortable two hour drive we arrived at her house, we gave the kids a bath. At which point my daughter decided she needed to unload her crap in tub she was sharing with her cousin. She has never taken a crap in the tub. I asked, why now God? Of all days to choose christening the tub, why today? Why right now? If you can imagine for a moment, cleaning up a crappy mess when you feel like you want to die. The elephants continued dancing on my back.

The kids went down to sleep and my sister wrote driving instructions on how to get to the hospital. I took the car and left my sister with all the kids. Her instructions were clearly drawn on the little white piece of paper. Somehow I was delirious from the pain and I wasn’t reading the directions properly. I wish I had my GPS; Shelly is her name, here to guide me. The streets in this Texas neighborhood didn’t have streetlamps. I had such a difficult time reading the little green street signs; I nearly pulled over and called 911 just for a police escort to the hospital. The only thing that stopped me from calling was I concerned they may ticket me for being an unsafe driver. Finally, there in the distance I saw a tall building with a cross on it. I knew I had found the hospital. I think that cross was a sign from God. He led me to where I needed to be. Maybe I had died and gone to Heaven? I know at various times I thought that it sounded like a pretty good option at this point.

The process at the ER seemed so antiquated. First I signed in with a man who appeared as though he ran the flow of the Emergency room waiting room. With his thick accent and big glasses, I followed his commands. Sit here, fill this out, and is this correct? Afterwards, I saw a triage nurse. The nurse took some information, quick assessments and vitals. She gave me a cup to pee in. Bring it back when you’re done, and then the doctor will see you. There after I was called to registration where they got all the payment information. I thought it was amusing how to registration guy wanted more information than the triage nurse.

The real fun was about to begin, I waited and waited and waited to be seen by a doctor. I saw people getting called back, but no one called for me. Did I miss them call my name? I was there alone, and I could have missed it. The ER was filled with a lot of people. People that were very interesting to watch. It was a people watching smorgasbord. I kept waiting, I was starting to get cold and shivering. After much deliberation to not cause a setback, I got up from my hard as a rock chair and went to the man that oversaw the flow of the waiting room. Sir, can I have a blanket, I asked. With his thick accent, he inquired if I had a fever, I said it was a small one. He refused to give me a blanket on account of my fever. At that moment, I started to cry. The kind of hopeless cry where you just want to be held. The kind of cry that if you weren’t in so much pain would seem unreasonable. Hunched back from the pain, I hobbled back over to my corner, defeated. I waited an excruciating 3 hours until they called me back.

After they called my name, I hobbled through the ER waiting room. It was like I was about to walk through the pearly white gates. Like winning the multi-million tri-state lottery. I knew at that point, I had made progress. Myself and my herd of dancing elephants managed to sit upon the gurney amongst all the beeps and clatter. The ER doctor came in and started asking me questions. Upon telling him my situation, he reviewed my pee lab report. Just as I suspected, infection. The treatment for the infection was a pain reliever, to settle the elephants, IV fluids as I was dehydrated, IV antibiotics and lab work. Normally I would be scared all alone in a situation like this. But somehow I was incredibly calm, as I was desperate.

After another three hour stay on the gurney in the ER being treated by nurse, Heidi, I felt better. The elephants finally went to sleep. At this point, nearly being awake for 24 hours, traveling alone from California to Texas with a year and ½ old child, along with being in the ER for about 6 hours. I was toast. This truly was the longest and most grueling 24 hours of my life. At 3:00am I found my way back to my sister’s house and climbed into the bed she so lovingly made for me.

The bed was so nice, until I woke 4 hours later with the elephants dancing again on my back. Is this a nightmare I thought? How could they come back so quickly? I knew I needed to get the pharmacy as soon as possible if I was going to feel human again. As I walked down stairs, half bent over, my sister told me I look like I need to be in the ER still. I knew I looked like I’ve been tortured.

After barely surviving the painful drive to the pharmacy and back, I took my pain meds and snuggled into bed again. Thankful my sister was there to care for my daughter. All the while feeling guilty that I was adding extra work to her already exhausting life. I was here to help her, not be an inconvenience. The entire day was a blur as I was medicated with pain medication. She told me the following day, I was only awake for about 3 hours. I don’t remember any of it. The lack of memory I’m certain due to the delirious pain and the accompanied pain medication. I just know my daughter was taken care of and I’m so grateful for my sister during this time of my extreme need.

With my dancing elephants now sleeping, I am ever so grateful to be alive.