The Grapefruit

The following story is an overly detailed account of my last 10 days in prison the hospital. 

To stick with the "overly detailed" theme, let me start waaay back, to the beginning of the year/late last year.

I, just like all of us, had gotten the "crud". I was congested and sick and dealt with it for a long time. But after several weeks of being so short of breath that I'd get winded walking from Keller Park Church to the Community House (literally, like 10 steps) I figured I'd go see the doctor. 

They diagnosed me with "probably walking pneumonia" and gave me a breathing treatment in office to help with the shortness of breath, and booked me a follow up appointment. At the follow up, when I was still short of breath, the gave me steroids and an inhaler saying I had probably developed asthma and the sickness just made it worse. Never have I ever been diagnosed with asthma.

I spent the next few months feeling a little better, but still would get dramatically winded. I'd walk down to church, and down the stairs and use my inhaler laughing at how I was now the ultimate nerd. I never thought too much more about it, assuming this was now my life. But also during this time, I felt as though I was gaining weight, specifically in my stomach. But the top and sides especially of my belly felt hard, like I remember it felt when I was pregnant and I kept thinking that was weird. I remember hating how all my shirts looked. That I looked pregnant in everything I put on, even though I definitly wasn't. I laughed often with Carrie about how I probably had one of those crazy hair/teeth tumor babies in there. Then thought, it's probably just all the pastry Tuesdays and maybe I should do the Whole 30, give up gluten, exercise more, buy new shirts. 

Then I got the stomach flu, and even me, seasoned puker that I am, felt as though I was going to die. This puke seemed different, like it was hurting my whole body. It only lasted a Thursday-Saturday, and I recovered for about a week. 

Until Sunday, February 19th. I had planned to see my BFF get officially commissioned as a Pastor of Keller Park Church, but woke up around 5am puking and couldn't stop until early afternoon. Jeff and I had planned on making the most of the long weekend and going away that night, but cancelled all our plans when not only I was sick, but Lucy woke up with a fever too.

I remember sitting in bed Monday morning, thinking I should just see if I could get both of us in the doctor, since we had the day off, and maybe they'd tell me I was bloated and give me water pills and something to help with nausea. So I made an appointment, and they were able to squeeze me in at 2:15.

I made Lucy an appointment at her doctor at 4, and we girls headed off for a day of doctor fun. She sat with me the exam room laughing and taking selfies. I was feeling fine, hoping we'd get done here quick enough to grab some food before her appointment at 4.

Everything seemed fine until they checked my heart rate, and it was over 100bpm. The doctor came in and was real concerned with that. She kept checking the little machine to make sure it was working right. She made me lay down, still high. She had me walk and it went up to 130. "I hate to see what happens to her on a treadmill!" A nurse said "Me too sister!" I laughed. Dr. Jordan listened to my breathing "I don't think this is asthma". She ran an EKG. She called for second opinions. Finally she said "I want you to go straight to the ER for some tests." So I traded Jeff kids, met my parents and went to the ER. (Lucy still had to go to the doctor!)

Have you ever waited in an ER? It's an interesting place. I kept going between feelings of love and interest in people, and a deep hatred of all people. They did chest xrays, took a million pints of blood. Finally after about 3 hours I saw a doctor who told my my right lung was so collapsed and filled with fluid that they needed to immediately put in a chest tube. I was still feeling fine up until then. Laughing and making friends with people who came in. Then they wheeled me into another room to put the tube in, dosed me up with medicine, and shoved a tube between my ribs to drain fluid. 

I was a little scared, but still able to laugh and make light of the situation. Until the fluid starting draining out. 2 liters immediately drained, and I could hear the doctor and nurses scrambling to handle that amount, and the shock in their voices "Is it on suction?!" "No! That's just gravity!" It felt gurgly in my chest and I suddenly couldn't catch my breath. I was having to lay on my side, and couldn't move and all I wanted to do was sit up to catch my breath and I couldn't, and I've never felt so much like I could actually be dying. Jeff had just walked back into the room, and a moment later, Carrie showed up and I was so happy to see them, but I was in this moment that I finally was feeling the weight of this situation. The seriousness of what was happening. It was painful, and scary and I was having a hard time pulling myself out of it. 

I finally got sat up, and was trying to breath slowly but it wasn't until a wise cracking doctor came in to talk for a little bit, awkwardly holding my hand, that I was finally able to pull my mind and body back to a place where I felt in control. He told me there was so much fluid, that it had pushed my lung and trachea over and if it hadn't been treated, would have collapsed my heart. "It's a good thing you came in!" I heard over and over. 

So then it was up to a room, to figure out why there was so much fluid. I spent Monday Night-Thursday with no idea why there was so much fluid draining. The nurses seemed to change the 2 liter container every shift change, and everyone commented on how it was an unusually high volume that just kept coming. I was in a fair amount of pain from the chest tube. The second night, I passed out on the way back from the bathroom and a nurse caught me. So then I got put on "Fall Risk" and wasn't allowed to get up from the bed at all without calling a nurse first. And I had to wear an especially giant ugly yellow gown. 

I had a million chest x rays, blood work, a CT scan and many other tests throughout the week with still no real answers. I believe it was the CT scan that caught some fluid in my belly, so they ordered an ultrasound early Friday morning to see what was going on. It all happened very fast after that. I was alone at the hospital (as I often was in the mornings). They told me they found a large orange sized mass in my stomach. They needed to run an MRI to see more. Shortly after Dr.O came in and said that she wanted to remove it. She said it's large, and hard, and whether it's cancerous or benign, it needed to go. She told me most likely, I'd lose one ovary and tube (it was either attached or very close to one) and depending on how things looked when she opened me, I could lose both, or the whole thing. I told her that I was quite happy to be done with birthing babies, and they only caused me quite literally head aches so I would be happy to see it all go. 

My fall risk bracelet, and just some of the bruising from all the needle sticks. (I'm a hard stick)

*Random side note. That morning, I was feeling a little nauseous, so I ordered breakfast later than usual, and it came in right when Dr.O got there, she told them to keep in the hall a moment. After talking for a moment and telling me she wanted to get it out, she asked if I'd eaten today, and when I said no, she was able to schedule the surgery for that day at 1pm. If the breakfast tray had come a few minutes earlier, I would have had to wait til Tuesday for the surgery*

It was 11 am, with surgery scheduled for 1pm, and I was all alone. I was not even freaking out. It's like I had a mental checklist in my head. "Call Jeff. Text Parents and Carrie. Remember what the doctor said so you can repeat it. Talk to Jesus."  Oh yeah. Jesus. Hey Jesus, I'm not freaking out yet. I probably will be. I don't like the feeling of going under. I should find a verse or something to repeat in my head. *opens bible app on phone* *scrolls through Verses of the Day* And then I found this. 

And it was perfect. I didn't feel overly scared or emotional. It was just that. You're my God. And I trust you. Whatever comes. We've been through enough for me to know that you have got this. Someone prayed with me at some point and said "God, you are much bigger than an orange". That was it. 

Eventually everyone got there. My pastor and his wife prayed over me before they wheeled me away. My kids gave me kisses and hugs and went off to play with grandma and grandpa. Carrie was in the waiting room to keep Jeff company. Jeff and I sat in the little room where they prep you for surgery. I kept asking nurses if they could add "Take out any fat you come across" to the surgery orders. I told Jeff if it was cancer to tell Carrie we were buying a beach house. "Can I come?" he asked. "You can visit." There was a student nurse that followed everything that day, and at one point she just said "Can I just say, your attitude during this is amazing. You are so brave." I laughed more and said "What other choice do you have?" 

Then they wheeled me away, and I was feeling fine. My favorite thing to do the many times I got wheeled around in my bed is to wave at people I passed. I don't know why. It's such an awkward thing to be laying there and see people walking around. On the way to the OR it smelled like popcorn so I cracked jokes about how I wanted someone to smuggle me some. The nurses in the OR where nice, and were going along with my probably unhealthy need to mask my insecurities with humor. Until one sweet nurse looked close in my face and said "I know this is scary and overwhelming but everything is going to be just fine blah blah" and then I started getting teary. Then a nurse asked about my kids so I started gabbing away about my littles and drifted off to sleep talking about how naughty 3 year olds are. 

I "woke up" in recovery a few hours later. I could hear people talking, and my brain slowly came out of the fog, but my eyes were so heavy I couldn't open them. I felt them wheeling me back to my room. I heard Jeff and Carrie chatting with nurses and I could tell it must have gone well, because they both sounded rather cheerful. I tried to peek through my eyes as Carrie told me "It went great! They got the whole mass, and only had to take one ovary and tube. So far all the tests have come back negative for cancer!" It was the first time in this whole crazy episode where the best case scenario had actually played out perfectly. Jeff stayed with me for a while, then Carrie took over and I was glad to have a friend who was happy to sit silently next to me, watching TV and shoving ice chips in my mouth. 

I recovered from surgery pretty easily. Turns out the mass was more the size of a GRAPEFRUIT. People kept asking how I was doing and I kept saying I was just really pumped to see how well my jeans fit after all this. The hardest part was being on a liquid diet, when all I wanted was Olive Garden breadsticks. I kept badgering my nurses that I felt great and they should let me have real food. When I finally hit all the benchmarks they wanted, Jeff brought in dozens of breadsticks and my nurses cheered for me. 

The second week in the hospital was easier than the first. They had figured out was was wrong, I was healing the way I needed to, and I felt more like myself. Now, I just had to wait for a doctor to take out the blasted chest tube. Finally, FINALLY he came, and like it was nothing yanked it out on Wednesday. I was discharged Thursday afternoon.

I now have about 6 weeks of recovery. But I am so glad to be home, in my clothes and not attached to machines. It turns out I had MEIGS syndrome. Which is a rare syndrome that mimics all the symptoms of Ovarian Cancer, but is not cancerous. There should be no long term effects, and no greater chance of any other issues in the future. 

A few final notes:

1.) There is something psychologically hard about sleeping alone for 10 nights after spending the last almost 10 years with someone. It's the longest I'd ever gone away from my family or at least friends. The view from my window was awesome, and I'd try and remember the good points of having a room to myself (like, I could watch Keeping up with the Kardashians all day with no judgement)

The view at night. From my bed. It was cooler if you could stand up.

Sunrise was pretty great. Although I'd be fine if I never was awake that early again.

2.) There is something even more psychologically hard about not having any independance in the midst of those 10 days and 10 nights. Since I was a "Fall Risk" I couldn't do anything for myself. I had to ask to go to the bathroom, I couldn't just grab a book or my computer or something if I wanted it. Not only was I depending on my family and friends to take care of my kids and other responsibilities, I had to ask a stranger to plug my phone in for me. But they never seemed to mind. They'd also ask "anything else you want or need?". 

3.) The whole experience was incredibly humbling. I couldn't wash my hair or shower or hardly sit up for a while. I remember sitting on the bed as a friend (who is also a chaplain) laughed with me and washed my hair. Another time, a sweet nurse did it for me while I sat on the toilet, and acted like we were in a salon, like it was totally normal for me to be sitting on the potty. When I was finally a bit more mobile, a nurse gave me a deep clean in a sink and it felt like I went to the most posh salon. I remember once being in so much pain that after I got to the bathroom, I couldn't move my arms enough to even wipe. And the nurses and PCAs every time stepped up with such kindness and grace that I never felt discouraged or depressed about it, just incredibly grateful for such wonderful people who do that everyday. 

4.) The Nurses and PCA's and many other staff I met during my stay, where some of the kindest people. Nurse Ginny was with me the day of my surgery, and helped me remember all the things the doctor said, and interpreted when I didn't understand. She was also there the day the chest tube finally came out, constantly checking in with the doctor so he wouldn't forget to come. Casey was a PCA that I had a few times who actually lives close to Keller Park Church. She's getting married in the summer and I felt like we chatted like friends as she took me to the bathroom and checked my vitals. Terry was the only male PCA I had, and at first I felt a little funny about having him help me in the bathroom but he was one of the most gentle souls I've ever met that he actually became my favorite. (He'd been doing it for 28 years! And actually went to school for nursing, but just loved taking care of people so much he stayed a PCA. When he left the last time I thanked him for taking care of me and he said "It's truly an honor")  I also loved sweet Evya who came around each day and cleaned and chatted with me about Keeping up with the Kardashions, and I can't believe they talk to their mama like that, and isn't it so addicting and ridiculous to watch? She's the one who told me I could take home the fan they brought me one night it was so hot in the room. I liked her alot. I'd follow her around all day just to listen to her stories. I had 3 different strong amazing women doctors that always looked so trendy and cute and 2 had super cute glasses and we'd always chat about the beautiful tulips my dear friend Kerrie Peterson brought me. These people have a hard job that is gross and weird sometimes but they all did it with such grace and love that it kept me sane and joyful.

5.) My Community is amazing. My husband rocked this thing. My family went above and beyond. My Carrie seemed to always know what and when I needed something. My church family surrounded me in prayer and support and visits. Never once did I feel like "What am I going to do? I can't do this!" because people took care of things before I even remembered they needed taking care of. They set up a meal train for me (Some have asked for that info, you can go HERE and search last name: Kreider password: leon)  I have a beautiful community of family and friends from so many different places that I can do anything, even take several weeks off of life to get a grapefruit removed. 

Carrie brought decorations for my room one of the first days. I like that people would laugh whenever they came in my room and noticed the Trolls poster. 

6.) My God is bigger than a grapefruit. He is my God. And I trust him. 

7.) Always go to the doctor all the time for everything.