Life renewed

Here's another hospital story, although this one is probably less humorous and filled with fewer cute guys than my last one...

Last Friday morning I noticed a little red bump on my left forearm. Throughout the day at work it turned into a big nasty blister and alarming splotch of red that continue to grow. By that night it was burning and itching. I was hanging out with Cindy, and we decided to go to the ER on the busiest night of the year. It was homecoming weekend and the ER was filled with undergrads who had made bad choices or been the victims of bad choices. I got home at about 1:30 a.m. after they gave me a shot of antibiotics and a prescription. They said I had most likely been bit by a spider.

Later Saturday it was only getting worse. At about 10:30 p.m., my arm was swelling and going numb, while the red splotch ascended up my arm. I was also getting chills and losing control of my muscles. So back I went to the ER, where they finally saw me at 2:30 a.m. Thankfully Christine was with me, and she sat with me all night. The nurses and doctors were quite concerned about this infection, especially because it was progressing despite antibiotics. They had seen arms like mine rot to black. Oh, I was so scared and sad! If the infection spread into my bloodstream or to the bone...

They decided to admit me to the hospital and finally found me a room in the pediatrics ward at 5:30 a.m. Sunday. Poor, dear, patient Christine was with me the entire time. By that point I felt even more awful. My arm was covered in marker and pen as various nurses grimly tracked the spread of infection. They hooked me up to an IV, which they kept well-supplied with a variety of the strongest, caustic antibiotics. The doctor talked about the possibility of cutting out the infected tissue if I didn't start improving soon. I felt like I could barely pray or think straight.

The rest of Sunday was still a rather frightening day. I had barely slept, because nurses kept poking me with needles, drawing blood, and changing bags of IV fluids. As we played the waiting game, all I could do was ask my family and friends to pray. Pray they did--I'm pretty sure I was covered in prayer by hundreds of people. Several friends came to stay with me until Mom arrived. She drove all day Sunday from Pennsylvania to reach me. She started to cry when she saw me--all weak and hooked up to machines. I was so thankful she came to help me.

Over the next couple of days I had many other wonderful visitors, and it was so encouraging to know I had an army of believers praying on my behalf, especially when I felt so discouraged and downtrodden. I know God was looking out for me and was with me even through these really dark hours. During this time I still managed to smile at nurses and treat them kindly. One nurse said she knew God wanted us to meet, and I had a Christian doctor.

Monday morning no one was really sure if the infection was being beaten back by antibiotics. The kind nurses dutifully would come in to look at my arm and draw another line. Nobody knew what caused the infection, which they now called "cellulitis." The doctors speculated I was bit by a spider, and it was aggravated by bacteria I probably had in my skin from the bike accident four weeks earlier. All the nurses and doctors commented on how it was rather unbelievable all these crazy things have happened to me recently--getting hit by a car and then having a mystery, deadly bacteria ripping through my body. It was almost funny if it weren't so real.

Yet, by that afternoon, I had turned the corner, and it looked like the intense antibiotics were working--probably just by killing my entire immune system. For the first time since Saturday, I felt hopeful. And I was finally released Tuesday afternoon from the hospital with a strong antibiotic to take. They still didn't know what I had or why. I was just so thankful to still have my life and limbs!

Fast forward to Wednesday night: I had gone back to work that day, although I was extremely drained and weak. While trying to fall asleep, my heart began racing, my legs were burning, and my eyes seemed like they were trying to pop out of my head. My tongue seemed to turn into a giant cotton ball, and I could barely stand. I had never felt so thirsty in my life. I managed to stumble downstairs to get Mom, and was beginning to shake uncontrollably.

It was about 1 a.m. now, and Mom dumped me in the car and raced across town to the ER as I started getting a lot worse. She drove amazingly fast and pulled up to the ER door, where she ran inside calling for help. Some nurses ran out with a wheelchair and pulled me from the car. They took me straight back to a room as I had full-on rigors (like convulsions). I couldn't really breathe by this time or talk, and my heart was racing at 120 beats/minute (usually mine is about 60 beats/minute). They immediately put an IV in me, hooked me up to a machine to track my vital signs, and tried to ask me questions to understand what was going on. They didn't know if what was happening was due to my earlier bike accident, the infection, or my antibiotics.

Thankfully it was a very slow night in the ER. It was just like being in a TV show as the doctor and nurses tried to piece together the mystery quickly as I rapidly declined. It was like a race against time as my body began to shut down. My legs went entirely numb and my arms were on fire. I was still shaking uncontrollably, and I couldn't breathe as my tongue got larger and larger. They hooked me up to oxygen and watched as red splotches broke out all over my chest and neck, then my heart rate would spike dramatically.

Oh, I can't even explain the pain and the feeling of my body literally spiraling out of control. The worst part was when my legs and arms when entirely numb. This is when the doctor and nurses got even more concerned. Mom said by this point, there was the doctor and three nurses crowded around me, as three more nurses hovered just beyond them as the doctor barked orders. I was entirely paralyzed. One nurse scrapped the bottom of my feet and prodded at my hands. No reaction whatsoever. They finally conjectured that perhaps I was having a severe allergic reaction to antibiotics. This was confirmed when they tried to put some antibiotics into the IV, which they promptly replaced with strong anti-histamines.

Then several of them carried my limp body to a stretcher and put me through a CT scan to check on my heart, lungs, and head. I felt like I was fading really fast and fought to stay conscious. All the concerned voices and faces seemed so far away. I tried to tell Mom I loved her. I forced myself to keep breathing. The CT scan didn't reveal anything, and the anti-histamines in my IV kicked in just as I felt like I was going to slip away.

Another miracle (my life seems full of them these days). I didn't immediately feel better, but the doctor finally relaxed a bit as I began to regain feeling and speech. My heart only spiked every couple of minutes instead of continually. The doctor consulted with an infectious disease doctor in the hospital, but they could only conclude that I was suddenly allergic to penicillins and Avalox. I had all the severe reactions that are possible with Avalox: central nervous system effects, serious allergic reactions, skin rash, changes in sensation and nerve damage, and serious heart rhythm changes. Fun stuff!

I finally got to go home at 6:30 a.m. with a different antibiotic. By noon, however, my heart wouldn't stop racing, and my tongue was swelling again. So we got to head back over to the ER for the fourth time in less than a week. This time they knew what was wrong with me right away, so I felt better a lot faster, although not before my arms cramped up into strange contortions. They gave me 3 other medicines to counter the effects of the antibiotics. My heart still races some, and I still feel weak and extremely wobbly, but I feel a million times better. Sleeping 12 hours last night also helped.

Wow... what has been going on? Being on the verge of death and then being revived again is a little exhausting, to say the least. I literally have felt attacked by the enemy. Yet, at the same time I've never felt the presence and love of God so acutely. I continue to feel utterly broken, but somehow I feel whole knowing I'm wrapped in God's arms and His peace.

Thank you, Father, for life!! And thank you for your prayers! I promise someday I will have a blog post about something entirely light-hearted.

My arm Friday. The infection was above and below the skin. It would get a lot worse over the next couple of days.

Some of my dear friends visiting me in the hospital and reading from the Word.

The 26 year-old patient in the pediatrics ward.

The pen marks tattoo are parts of where some of the infection spread. This was when it was getting a lot better.