I wish people knew more or cared more to know about depression. It isn't some mental illness that people make up so they don't have to do things, or an excuse to lay around the house all day.
People should think of depression as a disease, like Diabetes. If you don't take your medication or don't control your diet, you can get really sick or even die.
The same thing with depression. If you don't find the right anti depressent or doctor who is willing to go that extra mile for you, you could be in a world of hurt.
I've never thought I was for this world. I always felt apart from it. I have seven brothers and sisters but I still felt alone during my childhood. That aloneness has stuck with me all these years. I feel better around people, but it never seems to work out that way.
I'm also a very sensitive person. Things affects me more than other people. I've had to quit reading the paper because it caused such depression. I can no longer watching anything higher than a G rating, because the depression seems to get worse.
I've been depressed off and on ever since I can remember, but this last bout of depression has gone on for seven years. It's the longest I've gone without some kind of reprieve. I keep telling myself it's going to get better, but it only seems to be getting worse day by day.
I feel I've lost God. I can't hear him. My faith is very fragile right now. I feel as though I'm not praying correctly or doing something wrong. I've scanned my brain to try to find a way to change the way I think, but I feel so trapped in this world I hate so much.
I hate Albuquerque. I only moved here to be near my sister, who moved away within a year of my moving out here. I have a brother out here, but his wife has cut us off completely. That hurts terribly.
I have a niece out here who is my light, but with both of us working full time, it's hard to spend time together.
I hate my job. I mean I love nursing and being a nurse. I hate being harassed and treated like dirt for being an LPN. I am CONSTANTLY being harassed and was praying and hoping to get a job in the clinics so that maybe I could be happy with my work again. I applied and interviewed for the job and was told it looked promising. What did they do? They hired someone from outside the facility! I should have preference since I'm a veteran and have worked here for 5 years! But I'm trapped at this awful job because I have no where else to go.
I have three mid-terms this week. Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. I've been half heartedly studying, but have you ever tried studying while you're having a heart attack? Or having just broken your leg before you go to the doctor? It feels impossible. I wake up every morning in a horrible anxiety attack just at the thought of going to work. To the point of chest pain.
I try to get out of the house and do stuff, even if it's just taking a walk in the sunshine. I can't go to the gym because my hip won't heal. My doctor's can't seem to figure out what medication would get me out of this depression. I can't even list all the anti depressants I've been on over the last 20 years. I've actually begged them to do electro shock therapy on me, that's how desperate I am to get better. They want to try more pills.
Last week a good friend of mine died from a massive stroke at the age of 60. Another friend had a major heart attack and had to have quaddruple bypass surgery. Yet another friend, my age is dying of cancer. She's married and had a child. I've prayed and prayed that I could switch places with her.
I'm so tired. I'm out a patience. If something was going to get better, it would have happened by now. But it hasn't. Things just get worse and worse. I kept telling myself, tomorrow will be better, next week will be better, next month, next year. And it never is. I try changing the way I do things. I try not to hide in my apartment, I try to get out and get some exercise or be around other people. I've run out of things to try. I just don't know what to do anymore. I want to go home to live with my Father. That's all I wish for now.
My dad told me once that cats never die in public. That if they know they're going to die, they go off somewhere and die alone. I want to be a cat.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Crisis of Faith
I became a Christian in July of 1997. I was living in Anaheim, CA and was baptized in the Pacific Ocean at sunset. It was beautiful.
Until about a year ago, I was really good at reading the bible daily. I've read the bible 5 times and after the last time decided I really didn't need to read the bible anymore. So I stopped.
When I was baptized, I was attending a Calvary Chapel. I love the Calvary Chapels of America. They're all over the place. They're not a fire and brimstone church. What they do is pick a chapter in the bible, and explain to everyone what it means. They don't pass around a donation plate, although there are podiums strategically placed for tithes. They have bible studies, and parties, and a lot of them have coffee shops within. It's very laid back. Jesus is talked about a lot and it's a very loving environment.
When I moved to my current location, there was a Calvary Chapel in town. I went for about a year, but the problem was they had three services and all three service had at least 2,000 people in attendance. I'm more of a quiet person who likes nice little churches with less than 100 people, where everyone knows your name and you can attend bible study and things like that. With this Calvary Chapel, I would never see the same person twice. I tried attending bible study, but no one was really interested in being friends. It was very hard for me with all the people. I get anxious when I'm around large groups, so after a year of forcing myself to go, I quit going.
I've looked for churches since then, but haven't really found anything that suits me. So, it's been about four years since I've been to church.
Even with not going to church or reading the bible, I consider myself a strong Christian. I pray every night and talk to God several times throughout the day. I never questioned whether I was saved or not.
Until the night I was diagnosed with toxicity.
Mind you I was delerious and hallucinating at the time. The doctor came up to me; I was all hooked up to these machines and IV. I was just told I was toxic and had to spend the night at the hospital hooked up to a heart monitor. The doctor asked me if something were to happen, did I want them to try and save me or just stand back and let me die.
I told him I wanted to be full code. After living with depression for so long, I was kind of surprised I said that. I always thought I would say I wanted to be DNR (do not resuscitate). At this point, I really thought that the doctor's though I might die. I realized I wanted to live.
I looked up at the ceiling, seeing hallucinations up there. I thought about God and wondered where He and/or His angels were. I really thought someone would be "there" to help me on my journey.
I kind of got distracted while they got me ready and wheeled me up to my floor and to my room. It is really weird experiencing all of this as a patient when usually I'm the nurse pushing the patient on the gurney to their room.
When I got to my room and everyone left and the lights were turned off I was left with my fears again. There was this mirror in the corner on the ceiling of my room, and everytime I looked in there I saw an evil man, laughing maniacally at me or pointing at me. One time I saw a person in scrubs lying on the floor as though dead. The door had a window in it and I kept seeing someone pressing their face and hands up against the glass, trying to get to me. In short I was terrified!
To tell you the truth, I was so scared that I wanted someone to come hold my hand. I couldn't escape the hallucinations even when I closed my eyes. I would see stuff when my eyes were closed that was just as real as when they were open.
All night I kept praying. I sang Christian songs, trying to feel better. But I didn't. I was terrified all night long. Then came the point when at around 3:30am, I heard ringing in my ears that I mistook for an alarm saying that I was dead. I could feel my heartbeat and knew that I was breathing, but could not convince myself that I was still alive.
Again I looked around. No Jesus. No God. No angels. Where was everyone? Why wasn't anyone coming to do CPR on me? I finally got up the nerve to hit my call light. I asked the nurse to come in to do some menial task. When she came in and spoke to me I finally was able to convince myself that I was alive. It was one of the scariest moments in my life.
One strange thing that happened was I no longer wanted to die. When I had been depressed, all I thought about was dying and ending my pain. Now I was scared half to death to die. Why? Because I wasn't sure if I was saved anymore. In my head, I'd read the bible enough to know that "you are saved by grace not through works lest any man should boast" (Ephesians 2:8-9). But I had had so much time to think about it that night. I hadn't been reading the bible. I hadn't been going to church. I wasn't doing enough for God.
When I got sick, I was only working 20 hours a week due to a work related injury. That gave me a lot of time on my hands. I was depressed. I didn't feel I was doing anything for mankind, and since my injury kept me from walking well, I felt pretty worthless. I spent most of my days playing Hidden Object games because at least that kept my mind busy enough not to think about how worthless I was. As a nurse, taking care of patients gave me a purpose. I was doing something for God. I missed that terribly and didn't know if I could ever do that again. I just wanted the days to go by quickly so I could have surgery and at least have some idea as to whether I could be a nurse again.
The toxicity caused severe anxiety. I'd look back over the previous two weeks and think that I didn't deserve to go to Heaven. I wasn't doing anything for God's sake. I was taking up space, feeling sorry for myself. That's why God wasn't there when I was so sick and thought I was going to die.
After I got out of the hospital I went to the nearest Christian bookstore and got a new bible. I started reading a chapter a day. In my bookshelf stood several Bible study guides gathering dust. I found one called Mark for the Biblically Inept and started reading it.
I started asking around to see if there was a church that fit my needs. My landlord introduced me to a church and gave me their website. I checked out the website and went to the church the next Sunday. It wasn't packed and it reminded me a lot of Calvary Chapel. I continued to pray before I went to bed and during the day if I remembered.
I do feel better about my relationship with God. I still have problems now and then believing I am saved. Everything in the bible says I am, but I can't imagine being a good enough person to be let into Heaven. But I think that's the point. Jesus died for our sins no matter how bad. I'm lacking the faith to believe that. I'm hoping reading the bible and going to church and praying will help me work out my lack of faith issues.
I'm pretty sure that when it is my time to leave this world, that God, Jesus or His angels will be there to guide my way and to hold my hand. The problem was, that night that I thought I was going to die, God knew I wasn't and that's why I wasn't sent anyone. It's not that He left me alone, it was that the toxicity of my medication made it impossible for me to think clearly. If He had sent me any angel that night, I would have probably been scared out of my mind or thought it was another hallucination. He was probably there holding my hand, I was just too scared to feel it.
I think my crisis of faith is over for the most part. I know I'll still deal with depression and suicidal tendencies now and then, but I'm hoping this experience will allow me to remember that God is there even if I don't feel him and will always be there for me no matter what.
Until about a year ago, I was really good at reading the bible daily. I've read the bible 5 times and after the last time decided I really didn't need to read the bible anymore. So I stopped.
When I was baptized, I was attending a Calvary Chapel. I love the Calvary Chapels of America. They're all over the place. They're not a fire and brimstone church. What they do is pick a chapter in the bible, and explain to everyone what it means. They don't pass around a donation plate, although there are podiums strategically placed for tithes. They have bible studies, and parties, and a lot of them have coffee shops within. It's very laid back. Jesus is talked about a lot and it's a very loving environment.
When I moved to my current location, there was a Calvary Chapel in town. I went for about a year, but the problem was they had three services and all three service had at least 2,000 people in attendance. I'm more of a quiet person who likes nice little churches with less than 100 people, where everyone knows your name and you can attend bible study and things like that. With this Calvary Chapel, I would never see the same person twice. I tried attending bible study, but no one was really interested in being friends. It was very hard for me with all the people. I get anxious when I'm around large groups, so after a year of forcing myself to go, I quit going.
I've looked for churches since then, but haven't really found anything that suits me. So, it's been about four years since I've been to church.
Even with not going to church or reading the bible, I consider myself a strong Christian. I pray every night and talk to God several times throughout the day. I never questioned whether I was saved or not.
Until the night I was diagnosed with toxicity.
Mind you I was delerious and hallucinating at the time. The doctor came up to me; I was all hooked up to these machines and IV. I was just told I was toxic and had to spend the night at the hospital hooked up to a heart monitor. The doctor asked me if something were to happen, did I want them to try and save me or just stand back and let me die.
I told him I wanted to be full code. After living with depression for so long, I was kind of surprised I said that. I always thought I would say I wanted to be DNR (do not resuscitate). At this point, I really thought that the doctor's though I might die. I realized I wanted to live.
I looked up at the ceiling, seeing hallucinations up there. I thought about God and wondered where He and/or His angels were. I really thought someone would be "there" to help me on my journey.
I kind of got distracted while they got me ready and wheeled me up to my floor and to my room. It is really weird experiencing all of this as a patient when usually I'm the nurse pushing the patient on the gurney to their room.
When I got to my room and everyone left and the lights were turned off I was left with my fears again. There was this mirror in the corner on the ceiling of my room, and everytime I looked in there I saw an evil man, laughing maniacally at me or pointing at me. One time I saw a person in scrubs lying on the floor as though dead. The door had a window in it and I kept seeing someone pressing their face and hands up against the glass, trying to get to me. In short I was terrified!
To tell you the truth, I was so scared that I wanted someone to come hold my hand. I couldn't escape the hallucinations even when I closed my eyes. I would see stuff when my eyes were closed that was just as real as when they were open.
All night I kept praying. I sang Christian songs, trying to feel better. But I didn't. I was terrified all night long. Then came the point when at around 3:30am, I heard ringing in my ears that I mistook for an alarm saying that I was dead. I could feel my heartbeat and knew that I was breathing, but could not convince myself that I was still alive.
Again I looked around. No Jesus. No God. No angels. Where was everyone? Why wasn't anyone coming to do CPR on me? I finally got up the nerve to hit my call light. I asked the nurse to come in to do some menial task. When she came in and spoke to me I finally was able to convince myself that I was alive. It was one of the scariest moments in my life.
One strange thing that happened was I no longer wanted to die. When I had been depressed, all I thought about was dying and ending my pain. Now I was scared half to death to die. Why? Because I wasn't sure if I was saved anymore. In my head, I'd read the bible enough to know that "you are saved by grace not through works lest any man should boast" (Ephesians 2:8-9). But I had had so much time to think about it that night. I hadn't been reading the bible. I hadn't been going to church. I wasn't doing enough for God.
When I got sick, I was only working 20 hours a week due to a work related injury. That gave me a lot of time on my hands. I was depressed. I didn't feel I was doing anything for mankind, and since my injury kept me from walking well, I felt pretty worthless. I spent most of my days playing Hidden Object games because at least that kept my mind busy enough not to think about how worthless I was. As a nurse, taking care of patients gave me a purpose. I was doing something for God. I missed that terribly and didn't know if I could ever do that again. I just wanted the days to go by quickly so I could have surgery and at least have some idea as to whether I could be a nurse again.
The toxicity caused severe anxiety. I'd look back over the previous two weeks and think that I didn't deserve to go to Heaven. I wasn't doing anything for God's sake. I was taking up space, feeling sorry for myself. That's why God wasn't there when I was so sick and thought I was going to die.
After I got out of the hospital I went to the nearest Christian bookstore and got a new bible. I started reading a chapter a day. In my bookshelf stood several Bible study guides gathering dust. I found one called Mark for the Biblically Inept and started reading it.
I started asking around to see if there was a church that fit my needs. My landlord introduced me to a church and gave me their website. I checked out the website and went to the church the next Sunday. It wasn't packed and it reminded me a lot of Calvary Chapel. I continued to pray before I went to bed and during the day if I remembered.
I do feel better about my relationship with God. I still have problems now and then believing I am saved. Everything in the bible says I am, but I can't imagine being a good enough person to be let into Heaven. But I think that's the point. Jesus died for our sins no matter how bad. I'm lacking the faith to believe that. I'm hoping reading the bible and going to church and praying will help me work out my lack of faith issues.
I'm pretty sure that when it is my time to leave this world, that God, Jesus or His angels will be there to guide my way and to hold my hand. The problem was, that night that I thought I was going to die, God knew I wasn't and that's why I wasn't sent anyone. It's not that He left me alone, it was that the toxicity of my medication made it impossible for me to think clearly. If He had sent me any angel that night, I would have probably been scared out of my mind or thought it was another hallucination. He was probably there holding my hand, I was just too scared to feel it.
I think my crisis of faith is over for the most part. I know I'll still deal with depression and suicidal tendencies now and then, but I'm hoping this experience will allow me to remember that God is there even if I don't feel him and will always be there for me no matter what.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
At Death's Door
Last Sunday night I was sick, but just passed it off as being too tired. When I got to work on Monday, I couldn't talk right, felt confused, and I kept changing words around and people didn't understand what I was saying. Also, my hands were shaking so badly that I couldn't type my username and password into my computer. I vomited and decided it was time to go home. I thought I had the flu.
By Wednesday I was miserable. I hadn't been able to keep anything down since Monday morning. I still assumed I had a super flu, but also realized I was probably dehydrated too. I finally called my doc that afternoon, only because I had already missed three days of work and now needed a doctors note. They told me to go straight to the ER for IV fluids to get rid of the dehydration "and not to wait so long to see a doctor next time".
A friend of mine drove me to the ER because I was so weak. I should mention at this time that during these three days I had developed strange symptoms. I was all of the sudden seeing decorations on the wall in my bedroom, mixed in the paint, that weren't there before. My sense of smell was so sensitized I couldn't handle the cats being near me or I'd throw up.
They got me back pretty quickly and started an IV on me. They thought I was pretty close with my diagnosis and worked me up for dehydration. After the first liter of fluid they had given me via IV, I was still nauseous, so they gave me a second bag of IV fluid and decided I must be really dehydrated.
They were getting ready to discharge me after the second IV bag was infused when the doctor decided to run one more test on a medication I was taking. I'm supposed to get levels on a regular basis, but since I hadn't taken any medications in four days, that was the least of my worries. In the ER I was still seeing and smelling weird things.
I was getting ready for my IV to finish and go home when the doctor came in almost ashen. Looking back, if I'd been a little less confused I would have realized he probably thought I was going to die. The level of the medication I was taking was at toxic levels. It wasn't supposed to go over 1.8 and was at 2.5. Even though I hadn't taken it in 4 days, they said that the dehydration concentrated the medication and raised it up. The doctor (who was in his 50s) had said he had NEVER seen a level so high. He told me I would have to be admitted immediately and monitored closely.
Mind you, I'm delusional at this time due to the toxicity, but of course didn't realize it, so everything is just exagerrated 3-fold. They transferred me from a small room to the main trauma room in the ER where they hooked me up to an EKG monitor (this is my job, to monitor the ekgs), drew more blood and checked all my vitals again. Then all of these doctors came in asking me all sorts of questions. They wanted to know if I wanted them to bring me back to life if I died....I think that scared me most. Heart doctors came in and listened to my heart, they checked out my kidneys, all the while giving me more and more IV fluids, trying to flush the toxic medication out of my body.
When the results of my EKG came back it turned out my QT wave was longer than it should be. This was a textbook sign of toxicity. Having the QT wave too long is not the worst thing that could happen to my heart, but it was scary just knowing that the medication had messed with the conduction of my heart. By the next morning, they did a repeat EKG and found that my heart conductivity had returned to normal. I was thanking God profusely for this.
Shortly after I wound up on the exact floor I work on, the telemetry unit. I was attached to monitors all night long so nurses would know if there were any more changes in my heart. I think I was admitted about 9:00p. As hard as I tried, I only slept an hour that night.
What's worse, was the visual hallucinations were ever present and very scary at night. There was a mirror in my room, and a man in uniform kept pointing at me on the other side of the mirror. There were cut out Christmas decorations covering the wall and cartoon characters covering the floor in the bathroom. I kept thinking that I had worked at the hospital for four years and had never noticed all the decorations on the walls and floors. At this point, I didn't know I was hallucinating.
Even my pajamas had decorations. Not only that, but one time when I went to the bathroom I noticed on imprint of the decorations had transplanted to my hand, from the pants!! A hallucination trasferred itself from my pants to my hand. Now that's weird.
I had no clock and no one came to visit me, so it was just me and my hallucinations all night. Sometime early in the morning I heard ringing in my ears. Later on I would find out that one more symptom of toxicity. Well, being on the floor I was and being a nurse, I thought the ringing was an alarm for asystole, which is when a person flatlines and dies. I truly thought I was dead and was waiting for the nurses to come in and do CPR on me! I had convinced myself so much that I was dead, that I actually called the nurse in to empty my urine so I knew someone saw me and I was really alive. I can laugh about this now, but I was TERRIFIED!
The bed was comfortable, but between the IV and being hooked up to the telemetry monitor, I couldn't find a comfortable position. Plus, although I kept closing my eyes to get rid of the hallucinations, they would show up behind my eyelids, just as vivid as ever, so there was no escape.
The next morning, Thursday, I couldn't eat breakfast. My body was still in the "I have a bad thing in my body and must get it out" mode so I was nauseous all morning. By this time I hadn't eaten any solid food since Monday morning when I had one granola bar.
There was this young student nurse who had been assigned to me and to tell you the truth I just wanted her to leave me alone. I was so miserable. They gave me something for nausea but it didn't do much.
The doctor came in and I told him about the hallucinations. I had finally realized they were hallucinations by this time, although it would be many days before I could get rid of them. He told me I was stressed out, my heart rate kept going up and I hadn't slept and that was why I was seeing things. He told me to try to sleep. Yeah right, with all the hallucinations and people coming in and being nauseous....good luck with that.
Finally, that afternoon, the doctors came in and told me they finally figured out what happened. The medication I had a toxic level in was because it is not supposed to be taken with Ibuprofen. Which I take all the time for the torn hip joint I have. No one told me this and I didn't even think to read up on it. It is my doctors responsibility to know (and tell me!!) if anything she prescribes for me is going to cause a reaction and this is a big one. I was not happy. The hallucinations were actually a symptom of toxicity and I didn't completely get rid of those until yesterday. I still have a heightened sense of smell.
One last doctor came and told me that I was about one day away from acute renal failure (my kidneys would just stop working) and she was suprised they put me on the telemetry floor instead of medical intensive care unit. She said my case worked out surprisingly well for how toxic I was. I'm very thankful for that and refuse to even start thinking about what if I had waited one more day or whatever...
After about 5 bags of IV fluids, the toxic medication was flushed from my system. I was released on Thursday. I spent most of this weekend on the couch now having withdrawal effects from the medication. I actually didn't eat solid food until yesterday (Sunday). I was finally able to work today although I only worked four hours and was exhausted when I got home.
One of the other symptoms I had and didn't realize until later was severe anxiety. I take Lorazapem as needed for anxiety, but hadn't taken that or my anti-depressents for four days. Also, the toxicity causes severe anxiety. I'm sure the hallucinations didn't help at all. While I was sick at home I had watched "The Time Traveler's Wife" and an Animal Planet show called "Fatal Attraction" about people who have wild animals for pets. The episode that I watched was chimpanzee's. I still can't tell you about the episode because it upsets me so much. There was also some real crime show I watched that was horrible. These three shows haunted me the days I was sick in bed and the night from hell in the hospital. Although I'll be the first to admit "The Time Traveler's Wife" was a good movie, it scared me due to the anxiety I felt when I was toxic.
When I got home from the hospital I was scared of EVERYTHING. I was afraid to take anything but my anti-depressent, my GERD medicine and my allergy medicine. So I didn't take my anxiety pills. After you find out that medicine can kill you, it's scary to start taking ANY medication.
I was afraid of my cats, of going through my mail, of going on my computer, of going to bed at night. I mean EVERYTHING. My heartrate kept skyrocketing and I couldn't calm down. This was also Easter weekend and my whole family was at my brother's house. I kind of downplayed what happened so they wouldn't have to worry about me. So I went through all of this anxiety alone.
My doctor had told me to just spend the weekend keeping hydrated and sleeping. Well, I couldn't sleep due to anxiety. But, I was scared of the silence too. I had to watch something on TV to pass the time, but I was afraid to watch just about anything. I went through my DVD collection and found all the Disney movies and children's shows I had. Those were the only shows I was able to watch. But sometimes I had problems with those. I was watching the second "Toy Story" and had a real problem when the girl abandoned her doll.
On Sunday I finally broke down and took a Lorazapem. OMG the change! It helped with the anxiety so much and I was actually able to take a nap! It was then I realized that the severe anxiety was due to the toxicity and not something I would have to put up with for the rest of my life! Just knowing that made me feel much better.
A "God" thing I thought was interesting during this whole fiasco, when I started having signs and symptoms of toxicity, my hip pain just went away. It barely bothered me the entire week I was so sick. Yesterday, as I started to feel better, the pain came back. God knew I could handle one or the other, but not both.
So now I continue my very slow recovery. I am off the medication that caused toxicity as well as ibuprofen for awhile to give my kidneys a rest. I'm in a lot of hip pain, but it reminds me I'm alive, so that helps. I have yet to confront the doctor who didn't pay attention to protocol when prescribing medication, but I do plan to. I don't want anyone else to go through what I did!
Posted to Facebook on Monday, April 5, 2010 at 6:41pm
By Wednesday I was miserable. I hadn't been able to keep anything down since Monday morning. I still assumed I had a super flu, but also realized I was probably dehydrated too. I finally called my doc that afternoon, only because I had already missed three days of work and now needed a doctors note. They told me to go straight to the ER for IV fluids to get rid of the dehydration "and not to wait so long to see a doctor next time".
A friend of mine drove me to the ER because I was so weak. I should mention at this time that during these three days I had developed strange symptoms. I was all of the sudden seeing decorations on the wall in my bedroom, mixed in the paint, that weren't there before. My sense of smell was so sensitized I couldn't handle the cats being near me or I'd throw up.
They got me back pretty quickly and started an IV on me. They thought I was pretty close with my diagnosis and worked me up for dehydration. After the first liter of fluid they had given me via IV, I was still nauseous, so they gave me a second bag of IV fluid and decided I must be really dehydrated.
They were getting ready to discharge me after the second IV bag was infused when the doctor decided to run one more test on a medication I was taking. I'm supposed to get levels on a regular basis, but since I hadn't taken any medications in four days, that was the least of my worries. In the ER I was still seeing and smelling weird things.
I was getting ready for my IV to finish and go home when the doctor came in almost ashen. Looking back, if I'd been a little less confused I would have realized he probably thought I was going to die. The level of the medication I was taking was at toxic levels. It wasn't supposed to go over 1.8 and was at 2.5. Even though I hadn't taken it in 4 days, they said that the dehydration concentrated the medication and raised it up. The doctor (who was in his 50s) had said he had NEVER seen a level so high. He told me I would have to be admitted immediately and monitored closely.
Mind you, I'm delusional at this time due to the toxicity, but of course didn't realize it, so everything is just exagerrated 3-fold. They transferred me from a small room to the main trauma room in the ER where they hooked me up to an EKG monitor (this is my job, to monitor the ekgs), drew more blood and checked all my vitals again. Then all of these doctors came in asking me all sorts of questions. They wanted to know if I wanted them to bring me back to life if I died....I think that scared me most. Heart doctors came in and listened to my heart, they checked out my kidneys, all the while giving me more and more IV fluids, trying to flush the toxic medication out of my body.
When the results of my EKG came back it turned out my QT wave was longer than it should be. This was a textbook sign of toxicity. Having the QT wave too long is not the worst thing that could happen to my heart, but it was scary just knowing that the medication had messed with the conduction of my heart. By the next morning, they did a repeat EKG and found that my heart conductivity had returned to normal. I was thanking God profusely for this.
Shortly after I wound up on the exact floor I work on, the telemetry unit. I was attached to monitors all night long so nurses would know if there were any more changes in my heart. I think I was admitted about 9:00p. As hard as I tried, I only slept an hour that night.
What's worse, was the visual hallucinations were ever present and very scary at night. There was a mirror in my room, and a man in uniform kept pointing at me on the other side of the mirror. There were cut out Christmas decorations covering the wall and cartoon characters covering the floor in the bathroom. I kept thinking that I had worked at the hospital for four years and had never noticed all the decorations on the walls and floors. At this point, I didn't know I was hallucinating.
Even my pajamas had decorations. Not only that, but one time when I went to the bathroom I noticed on imprint of the decorations had transplanted to my hand, from the pants!! A hallucination trasferred itself from my pants to my hand. Now that's weird.
I had no clock and no one came to visit me, so it was just me and my hallucinations all night. Sometime early in the morning I heard ringing in my ears. Later on I would find out that one more symptom of toxicity. Well, being on the floor I was and being a nurse, I thought the ringing was an alarm for asystole, which is when a person flatlines and dies. I truly thought I was dead and was waiting for the nurses to come in and do CPR on me! I had convinced myself so much that I was dead, that I actually called the nurse in to empty my urine so I knew someone saw me and I was really alive. I can laugh about this now, but I was TERRIFIED!
The bed was comfortable, but between the IV and being hooked up to the telemetry monitor, I couldn't find a comfortable position. Plus, although I kept closing my eyes to get rid of the hallucinations, they would show up behind my eyelids, just as vivid as ever, so there was no escape.
The next morning, Thursday, I couldn't eat breakfast. My body was still in the "I have a bad thing in my body and must get it out" mode so I was nauseous all morning. By this time I hadn't eaten any solid food since Monday morning when I had one granola bar.
There was this young student nurse who had been assigned to me and to tell you the truth I just wanted her to leave me alone. I was so miserable. They gave me something for nausea but it didn't do much.
The doctor came in and I told him about the hallucinations. I had finally realized they were hallucinations by this time, although it would be many days before I could get rid of them. He told me I was stressed out, my heart rate kept going up and I hadn't slept and that was why I was seeing things. He told me to try to sleep. Yeah right, with all the hallucinations and people coming in and being nauseous....good luck with that.
Finally, that afternoon, the doctors came in and told me they finally figured out what happened. The medication I had a toxic level in was because it is not supposed to be taken with Ibuprofen. Which I take all the time for the torn hip joint I have. No one told me this and I didn't even think to read up on it. It is my doctors responsibility to know (and tell me!!) if anything she prescribes for me is going to cause a reaction and this is a big one. I was not happy. The hallucinations were actually a symptom of toxicity and I didn't completely get rid of those until yesterday. I still have a heightened sense of smell.
One last doctor came and told me that I was about one day away from acute renal failure (my kidneys would just stop working) and she was suprised they put me on the telemetry floor instead of medical intensive care unit. She said my case worked out surprisingly well for how toxic I was. I'm very thankful for that and refuse to even start thinking about what if I had waited one more day or whatever...
After about 5 bags of IV fluids, the toxic medication was flushed from my system. I was released on Thursday. I spent most of this weekend on the couch now having withdrawal effects from the medication. I actually didn't eat solid food until yesterday (Sunday). I was finally able to work today although I only worked four hours and was exhausted when I got home.
One of the other symptoms I had and didn't realize until later was severe anxiety. I take Lorazapem as needed for anxiety, but hadn't taken that or my anti-depressents for four days. Also, the toxicity causes severe anxiety. I'm sure the hallucinations didn't help at all. While I was sick at home I had watched "The Time Traveler's Wife" and an Animal Planet show called "Fatal Attraction" about people who have wild animals for pets. The episode that I watched was chimpanzee's. I still can't tell you about the episode because it upsets me so much. There was also some real crime show I watched that was horrible. These three shows haunted me the days I was sick in bed and the night from hell in the hospital. Although I'll be the first to admit "The Time Traveler's Wife" was a good movie, it scared me due to the anxiety I felt when I was toxic.
When I got home from the hospital I was scared of EVERYTHING. I was afraid to take anything but my anti-depressent, my GERD medicine and my allergy medicine. So I didn't take my anxiety pills. After you find out that medicine can kill you, it's scary to start taking ANY medication.
I was afraid of my cats, of going through my mail, of going on my computer, of going to bed at night. I mean EVERYTHING. My heartrate kept skyrocketing and I couldn't calm down. This was also Easter weekend and my whole family was at my brother's house. I kind of downplayed what happened so they wouldn't have to worry about me. So I went through all of this anxiety alone.
My doctor had told me to just spend the weekend keeping hydrated and sleeping. Well, I couldn't sleep due to anxiety. But, I was scared of the silence too. I had to watch something on TV to pass the time, but I was afraid to watch just about anything. I went through my DVD collection and found all the Disney movies and children's shows I had. Those were the only shows I was able to watch. But sometimes I had problems with those. I was watching the second "Toy Story" and had a real problem when the girl abandoned her doll.
On Sunday I finally broke down and took a Lorazapem. OMG the change! It helped with the anxiety so much and I was actually able to take a nap! It was then I realized that the severe anxiety was due to the toxicity and not something I would have to put up with for the rest of my life! Just knowing that made me feel much better.
A "God" thing I thought was interesting during this whole fiasco, when I started having signs and symptoms of toxicity, my hip pain just went away. It barely bothered me the entire week I was so sick. Yesterday, as I started to feel better, the pain came back. God knew I could handle one or the other, but not both.
So now I continue my very slow recovery. I am off the medication that caused toxicity as well as ibuprofen for awhile to give my kidneys a rest. I'm in a lot of hip pain, but it reminds me I'm alive, so that helps. I have yet to confront the doctor who didn't pay attention to protocol when prescribing medication, but I do plan to. I don't want anyone else to go through what I did!
Posted to Facebook on Monday, April 5, 2010 at 6:41pm
I smell dead people
These are just little essays and strange things I come across in daily life.
Death had never been a big part of my life until more than two years ago when I worked as a nurse on a paliative care ward (end of life). Before that the closest I came to death was stopping at the scene of an accident about four years ago. A woman died in my arms before the paramedics could get there. I was pretty shook up by that.
The first day I started working on the palliative care floor, during orientation, while we were checking on the patients, the second one we checked on was dead. While I was a little shocked and concerned, my mentor just patted his hand and said "Poor Mr. So and So" and moved on. So one of my first teachings was how to "bag and tag" a patient. Get them cleaned up, tied up, tagged and put in a body bag. I also had to take the person down to the morgue. I remember there were some college students who were helping me that day. They laughed at me when I would apologize to the "body" when taking out the IV, foley, etc. Since then, I can't even count how many times I've taken care of the body after death.
So, about three days ago, I had a patient die. Most of my patients are old and need to let go, so I usually am not too sad when I find them dead. I left the palliative care floor for the surgical floor about two years ago, and have not witnessed a death on my new floor since arriving. Until three days ago. He was my patient, and it came as a bit of a surprise..everyone thought he would hang on through the weekend.
We have all new nurses on the floor and a lot of times we'll have nurses coming from different floors to help out because our staffing is bad right now. I was the only one who knew how to "bag and tag" a patient. So I got help from one of the nursing assistants and we went in to take care of business. I was really surprised at how much I'd changed as far as this task. He had a bunch of wires...IV's, foley, colostomy bag, tracheostomy, etc. I just removed everything from the body quickly and smoothly. The nursing assistant had only done this once, so I was teaching her as I was taking care of the patient. I had to admit, it was like riding a bike. I remembered every little thing I had to do. The nursing assistant was impressed but a little concerned I knew so well how to "bag and tag" someone.
I don't think I've become callous with death. The last thing I say to a patient who has died is "Say hi to God for me". I guess you can get used to anything.
Written on Facebook: Tuesday, October 21, 2008 at 11:15am
Death had never been a big part of my life until more than two years ago when I worked as a nurse on a paliative care ward (end of life). Before that the closest I came to death was stopping at the scene of an accident about four years ago. A woman died in my arms before the paramedics could get there. I was pretty shook up by that.
The first day I started working on the palliative care floor, during orientation, while we were checking on the patients, the second one we checked on was dead. While I was a little shocked and concerned, my mentor just patted his hand and said "Poor Mr. So and So" and moved on. So one of my first teachings was how to "bag and tag" a patient. Get them cleaned up, tied up, tagged and put in a body bag. I also had to take the person down to the morgue. I remember there were some college students who were helping me that day. They laughed at me when I would apologize to the "body" when taking out the IV, foley, etc. Since then, I can't even count how many times I've taken care of the body after death.
So, about three days ago, I had a patient die. Most of my patients are old and need to let go, so I usually am not too sad when I find them dead. I left the palliative care floor for the surgical floor about two years ago, and have not witnessed a death on my new floor since arriving. Until three days ago. He was my patient, and it came as a bit of a surprise..everyone thought he would hang on through the weekend.
We have all new nurses on the floor and a lot of times we'll have nurses coming from different floors to help out because our staffing is bad right now. I was the only one who knew how to "bag and tag" a patient. So I got help from one of the nursing assistants and we went in to take care of business. I was really surprised at how much I'd changed as far as this task. He had a bunch of wires...IV's, foley, colostomy bag, tracheostomy, etc. I just removed everything from the body quickly and smoothly. The nursing assistant had only done this once, so I was teaching her as I was taking care of the patient. I had to admit, it was like riding a bike. I remembered every little thing I had to do. The nursing assistant was impressed but a little concerned I knew so well how to "bag and tag" someone.
I don't think I've become callous with death. The last thing I say to a patient who has died is "Say hi to God for me". I guess you can get used to anything.
Written on Facebook: Tuesday, October 21, 2008 at 11:15am
My First Blog
You know what would be really cool? If I were to get my Soulfinder book series published and people knew who I was. They'd search for me and find this blog that I started way before anyone knew me!
Unfortunately, due to the sensitivity of the subjects of some of my blogs, I feel the need to be as general about any personal life as possible. I guess the blogs will speak for themselves, and many of the names will be changed for obvious reasons.
I can tell you I've been a nurse for 18 years. I have so many stories to tell you about just my career alone. Funny, sad, poignant, I've seen it all. It's been a wonderful learning experience and an experience I would like to share with you.
I will also be sharing many, many stories of my life. The things that have happened to me, good and bad. The milestones, the tragedies. Some will be hard to write and unpleasant for you to read. But to me, writing cleanses the soul. By writing some of these stories, it will help me to let go of the past. By sharing some of the stories, maybe I can help others who have similar experiences as mine. Let people know that they are not alone in their "secrets". Hopefully, this will lead to healing.
The blogs will not be in any particular order, but I will try to put a time frame on them so as not to confuse my readers. So, welcome to my world, I hope you enjoy the ride.
Unfortunately, due to the sensitivity of the subjects of some of my blogs, I feel the need to be as general about any personal life as possible. I guess the blogs will speak for themselves, and many of the names will be changed for obvious reasons.
I can tell you I've been a nurse for 18 years. I have so many stories to tell you about just my career alone. Funny, sad, poignant, I've seen it all. It's been a wonderful learning experience and an experience I would like to share with you.
I will also be sharing many, many stories of my life. The things that have happened to me, good and bad. The milestones, the tragedies. Some will be hard to write and unpleasant for you to read. But to me, writing cleanses the soul. By writing some of these stories, it will help me to let go of the past. By sharing some of the stories, maybe I can help others who have similar experiences as mine. Let people know that they are not alone in their "secrets". Hopefully, this will lead to healing.
The blogs will not be in any particular order, but I will try to put a time frame on them so as not to confuse my readers. So, welcome to my world, I hope you enjoy the ride.
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