Tuesday, September 29, 2015
It's almost bedtime. I can feel the pressure start. The twisting discomfort. I stack up three pillows, stuff them over my abdomen and curl up face down. Rocking my body right to left, left to right, I attempt to ride through this ordeal. Tighter and tighter I can feel my insides twist. Spasm after spasm until the pulsing becomes continuous. Cold sweat breaks out over my face. Panting for air, I mindlessly squeeze my eyes shut and rock. Faster. Faster. The pain's ramping up so quick. I think I hear moaning. Is that me? My hands claw at the bedsheets. No comfort. Trembling, I do my best to stay sane. None of my usual tricks are working. Gasping hard as my insides twist, I open my eyes in an attempt to distract myself. I see Noel standing besides me, afraid to touch me for fear of causing more pain, awaiting instructions.
"Noel. Morphine. Liquid in brown bottle. 2mL."
Through the ringing in my ears, I think I hear cabinets banging, footsteps thumping up and down the stairs. Frantic movements. "I can't find it!"
"It's in a brown bag. Grab a syringe. Add 2 more mL." Forget my sulfate allergy, it's either morphine sulfate or the emergency room just for pain management. I'll take the morphine.
A syringe filled with blue-green liquid appears to float in front of my face. With shaking hands, I grab the plastic and shove it in my mouth. Quickly, I push the plunger and swallow. The syringe disappears, I don't care where nor do I care what the medicine tastes like. How quick before this thing works?
Rocking back and forth, I continue to claw at my pillows and bedsheets. Do these destructive tendencies help alleviate the pain? Nope. One minute passes by, two minutes, three minutes... It hurts so much. I need to throw up. Noel half carries me to the toilet. Inelegantly, I sprawl my arms across the toilet seat and lean my head down. Must not throw up. Must not throw up. I don't want to waste my medicine and the food I barely swallowed earlier still leaves me with less than 1000kcal (calories) for today. That was supposed to be my last meal.
My nose is stuffed. I'm fighting my instinct to throw up. I keep rocking my body. Nothing's better. Is there a magic wand? I ask Noel to pray for me, but I can't hear him. I can't hear anything through the pain. A little longer. I have to hold on just a little longer and everything will be better. Breathe. Ahhhhhhh, that hurts. Everything hurts. I think Noel walk-carried me back and forth from bed to toilet 2 times. Maybe three? I can't remember.
I'm proud to say that 20 minutes later, the pain start easing up and I didn't throw up! My abdomen is tender, feels bruised. I can uncurl to my standard 90% almost straight posture. I feel like a heavy lead object sit in the right side of my abdomen. The insides are still quivering in the aftermath. I have no idea what just happened. Did I eat too much food? I only ate 2/3 of a meatball and less than half a small fistful of rice in watery soup. I'm still reeling in shock. The intensity of pain and speed of onset left me breathless. 4mL of morphine is barely dulling the edges of my pain. An hour later, I'm still wide awake and gently rocking on my side of the bed. Next time, maybe I should try 6-8mL of morphine? Dunno, each bit of additional liquid is hard to hold down... There's no way Tylenol would've worked.
Thursday, October 1, 2015
Today's special. I should be super excited to celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary. I mean... I should be bouncing around happy right? We're going to Monterey Bay Aquarium! Up to this point in time, I was hoping God would miraculously take away my pain, give me strength and energy to enjoy this special day... doesn't appear to be in today's plans. *deep sigh*
Shuffling downstairs, I walk with my back bent such that each step resulted in me staring intently at the floor and my feet. Noel opens the passenger door and I slip inside using momentum and my arms to help swing my legs inside. Immediately, I lay my seat back, kick off my shoes and bend my knees. The seatbelt is looped over my knees to help hold my legs in place and keep the belt from squeezing my abdomen. Noel gets into the car and starts the engine. I tense my body in preparation for the discomfort. Even with a borrowed car and softer suspension, every bump vibrates through my body. I tighten my knees towards my chest in an attempt to minimize the internal shifting of my gut. Yes, when I roll to the left or the right, even standing up, I can feel the weight of my tumors slide heavily inside, dragging downwards with gravity. Gross.
Clenching my eyes shut, I lock my jaws tightly together as air hisses between my teeth. This car ride is not pleasant.
Arriving in Monterey, my excitement isn't for the actual arrival but the surcease of pain. Yay! Thank God I made it to Monterey! Hopefully, the rest of the day will go smoother.
I spoke too soon.
Sitting in the wheelchair, super soft cushion under by bottom, Noel pushes me towards Monterey Bay Aquarium. Yay! Not. Every bump sends jarring pain slashing through my abdomen. Clenching my teeth, I do my best to curl up and endure. Enduring doesn't work very well. Time drags on forever. Bumpity bump bump. Concrete slab seam after seam slowly passes by. I don't remember the scenery around me, just that I was so grateful to reach the aquarium. I'll be safe and more comfortable indoors!
Noel, patiently pushes my wheelchair at a snail's pace. Really, yes, a snail's pace. Over the hurdle of the aquarium's threshold, I open my eyes... only to see a sea of rough tiled stone spread before me. Are you kidding me? Indoors is worse than the concrete walkways outside? I stare in disbelief. My heart sinks.
"Well, Noel, let's head to the otter tank." Inch by inch, Noel carefully pushes me forward. By the time we reach the otter tank, I was in so much pain that tears leaked out of my eyes. I hug Noel crying and hiding my tears in his shirt. Today is not what I expected.
I wanted to walk with Noel through memory lane, to spend time in awe at God's creations and wonder at the weirdness of this world's animals. Instead, I am so blinded by pain and tears that I can barely see much less appreciate anything around me. Even the aquarium elevators have the same rough stone tiles. Thank you, Noel, for getting me around the shortest way possible!
In the actual side section of the aquarium, there's rug! Yes, oh yes... rug. Hallelujah! That part will be smoother right? Settling at the very start of the Open Sea section, I sit and watch anchovies go around and around and around. Noel must be bored out of his mind. But I don't want to move yet. Not because the anchovies are that fascinating, but because I'm hurting so bad that I just don't want to move. My insides are sending signals of sharp agonizing jabs, heavy aches from all my larger tumors, and my head hurts. I just want to zone out and not be a part of this body anymore! Tylenol? Took two. Didn't work. Don't dare take more morphine, it'll unstabilize my body and cause me to get itchy. No thank you.
On to the next exhibit, super large tank with hammerhead sharks and tuna! *drool* Tuna is yummy. Sushi! Again, I delay and sit at this exhibit a lot longer than necessary. Every time we stop at an exhibit, no matter how uninteresting or small, I delayed. It hurts to even have the wheelchair slowly roll over rug. I'm miserable. Can I just sit at one exhibit and not move?
We eventually finish with the right side of the aquarium. No way are we going back over that rough flooring to get to the other side. So sad. I love the kelp forest, but the additional pain is just not worth it.
Father God, what are you letting happen to my body? Couldn't you make today pain free so Noel and I can laugh, smile and enjoy each other's company to celebrate our 10th anniversary? Noel pushes me so gently, so slowly... but I hurt too much to even look him in the face much less smile. The whole day I just wanted to cry. What must Noel feel like dealing with my brokenness?
God, thank you for blessing me with an amazing husband over these 10 years. Thank you for giving me a man who is willing to take charge as head of the household, pay the bills, serve me food in bed, let's me hang on to him as I walk up and down the stairs. Lord, thank you for my husband's loving heart, gentleness, patience. He stands beside me as I cry and moan in pain, watching me as I break. Thank you for providing my husband as a physical anchor to the present.
Lord, today is not a fun day... but again, you show me just how amazing my husband is. Thank you for his love. Thank you for letting him be by my side. Thank you for his integrity, selfless service and hard work to make me laugh. Thank you for growing both of us over the years to become more together, more patient, more understanding. Thank you, Lord, for teaching me what it means to respect Noel and him what it means to love me. Lord, thank you for the treasure of Noel you place in my life this 10 years and more. Help me live and treasure each day with him as if it were our last.
To God be all the glory.
Outside Monterey Bay Aquarium:
By the Open Sea exhibit with bluefin tuna:
