My Mother's Day was less than stellar. In fact, to be perfectly blunt, it really, really stunk.
The high point of my day came in the evening when I got to ride in a Mercedes. Unfortunately, it was a Mercedes ambulance.
So, the day started perfectly normal. My husband took my son to his hockey game, and I baked my husband's birthday cake. The cake was finished, so I took it out of the oven. While taking the cake out of the oven, my back felt weird. I thought, “Uh oh, better sit down”. I sat down, and once I was in the chair, I felt pop pop pop pop pop pop pop coupled with what felt like electric shocks. I couldn't move without excruciating pain. My poor daughter was terrified as we were the only 2 home at the moment.
I sat in the chair for some time, willing myself better. You saw how that worked by my Mercedes comment. During that time, my husband and son came home. I finally asked my husband to call a dear friend of mine who also happens to be an RN. She came right over, and between my friend and my husband, they pushed the computer chair to the couch where it took an agonizingly long time for me to get from the chair to the couch.
Once on the couch, they brought me ice packs as I tried to get myself into a somewhat comfortable position. Slowly, moving about a millimeter at a time, I was able to change positions to a somewhat straighter pose. I managed to get to lay on my side, and I actually dozed off for a while. When I woke up, for a split second I forgot my back hurt, and I moved.
Um, not the best idea.
The movement made my back spasm with such a fierceness that my legs drew up by themselves. The pain caused me to scream. I screamed so loud that my kids came running from upstairs to see what was wrong, and I hadn't called them; they just heard me scream.
I'm used to pain, I can deal with pain. I had 2 kids without any drugs. None. This was a different pain; a pain like I've never had before. I couldn't move any part of my body. Then came another spasm. There went my legs. I looked like I was having a seizure.
My friend said out loud what I knew inside all along. I had to go to the ER. I also knew since I couldn't walk, there was only one way to get to the ER, and that was by ambulance. Insert grawlix. Oh, in case you're not familiar with the term, grawlix is the series of typographical symbols (such as @#*&!) used in cartoons and comic strips to represent swear words. I just learned the word last year, and I've been itching to use it.
My dear friend took my kids to her house because I didn't want my kids to see me leave in an ambulance.
Anyway, my husband called 911 and had an ambulance sent to our house. I texted my friends across the street so they wouldn't panic seeing an ambulance at my house. In walk these two EMT's and I'm laying on the couch.
“We can't use the stretcher because it won't go through the door. Can you sit in the chair”?
Ummm, no, I can't move without through the roof pain.
This went on for a while, throwing out ideas. I felt bad because they were here for a while.
We eventually decided on the stretcher, and they would just use the back door where it's a straight shot to the outside, no turns. Each time they went to lift me onto the stretcher, I would spasm and scream. They'd put me back down,and we'd all just look at each other. Finally, I said, “you're just going to have to lift me onto the stretcher and ignore whatever comes out of my mouth, otherwise we'll be here forever”.
That's what they did. They lifted me onto the stretcher, and I screamed, yelled, and even cried. Yes, it hurt that badly.
So now I'm in the ER in a treatment room. Two cheerful nurses came in, “we're going to need a urine sample”.
I can't move.
“Oh, that's okay, we'll just roll you over and out a bedpan under you”.
No, you won't. It hurts to move. Find another way.
The cheerful pair just kind of stood there.
Look, I'm not trying to be a witch, or give you a hard time, but the whole reason I came by ambulance was because I can't move.
The cheerful pair left.
Doctor bodybuilder comes in, asks questions, examines, asks more questions. “It seems like your Psoas muscles. We'll do X-rays to make sure, but I'm sure it's your Psoas muscles.”
I googled it after he left, and it seemed to fit.
Nurse Ratched comes in (all 85 pounds of her). Tells me to pull down my jeans and roll over. She has shots for me. I tell her I can't move.
Without a word, she shoves me over, tugs down my jeans, and gives me 2 shots and leaves. I'm literally screaming and crying. My husband is in shock and disbelief. He said that I didn't make that much noise delivering the kids (as I'm lying there sobbing). Nurse Ratched asks my husband if he's driving because these shots will make me loopy and illegal to drive.
I'm still on my side because I still can't move. About 40 minutes later, he goes to ask Nurse Ratched when the shots will start working. I never did get loopy, and I only got mild relief.
A little while after that, they tell me that I'm going for X-rays. Oh goody. The X-ray tech was the exact opposite of Ratched. She was so nice and so sympathetic. I almost felt bad for telling her when it hurt. She apologized profusely when she had to redo some films. It was no big deal, it was only changing positions that was an issue. Once I was on my back or whatever, I was relatively okay.
So I get back to the room in the ER, a nurse brings me a couple of pain pills, and tells me that I'm actually discharged. I just need to be able to walk. Alrighty then! I swallow those pills, give them some time to work, and I decide no matter what, I'm walking. I'll walk to the bathroom, fill that cup so we can go home.
I fought hard to get off of that gurney and onto my feet. It hurt like the dickens, but I was walking!! I took the cup and disappeared into the bathroom.
I walked back to my treatment room, and she got my discharge paperwork all ready. I was free!! They sent a script for muscle relaxers to the pharmacy, which I took yesterday.
Yesterday was a lost day. I took drugs and slept.
I saw my PCP today, and she's sending me for physical therapy. Apparently, the muscle spasms are so strong that it's pulling one leg shorter than the other. She also prescribed steroids, which I detest taking, but I'm going to take them to help with the inflammation. My PCP thinks it's mostly my SI joints at play.
I'm glad to be going for PT because I don't think it's “normal” to have your back spasm like that taking a cake out of the oven. Even for me.
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