Today I showered alone

This morning I stood in the bathtub and turned on the hot water. I let the water run over me and for a moment I luxuriated in the silence. The fact that I was alone. I was alone and I was showering and the blue lawn chair that is home to the mean ugly spider is back outside.

It has been three weeks to the day since I have showered standing up, alone in my house.

Three weeks ago today I found out I have blood clots in both of my legs. And yes, I am using the right tense. They are still here, in my body. I have been to the doctor. I have been to the emergency room. I have been to the hospital. I have been to the lab. I have been to another doctor. But what I found out is no amount of blood thinner can break up and dissolve the clots in my body. My body has to figure this one out on its own. It has to reabsorb the clots and heal itself. Sigh.

Three weeks ago today I woke up with leg pain. I'd gone to bed the night before with pain. Pain in my side from the strained abdominal wall I'd been diagnosed with. Pain in my right knee and right thigh that I figured was all a result of the couch rest I'd been on for said strained abdominal wall. My body had been revolting all week. I was tired and cranky and sore and my other leg had hurt for two days but felt better. I figured eventually, when I got to stretch and move again I'd feel better all around. So I got in the shower and I stood under the hot spray and I tried to stretch my right leg. I put pressure on it. I put all my weight on it, trying to work the kinks out. I really gave it a nice hot steam workout. Then I got out of the shower.

And I noticed the my right leg was incredibly red and swollen about twice the size of my other leg. Yeah. Kinks. Excellent.

I took some deep breaths. I took a photo of my legs and sent it to my amazing acupuncturist Trace. I waited. I fretted. I figured I was overreacting and I should make breakfast. But I didn't. I just worried. And then Trace called me. (We text. We send frog emojis back and forth. She only calls when something's wrong.) She told me to call Angela home from work and go to the doctor. She told me to promise her not to google anything but to tell the doctor we suspected a DVT. I promised her and called Angela.

Angela was home in approximately four minutes. I kid you not. Her lovely coworkers and bosses rallied and covered her classes and walked her to her car and she was collecting me within minutes. And we went to her doctor's office where a PA saw me immediately.

The PA was sure it was nothing but she called around and got me an ultrasound that afternoon. She was sure it wasn't a DVT because of my young age, my health, my lack of extreme pain, etc. But she got me an appointment. At Cedars-Sinai. Angela and I found a place to scarf down hamburgers on the way (thank god, we wouldn't eat again for a long long time) and before we knew it we were in the ultrasound suite at Cedars. The tech told me she couldn't give me my results, my doctor would do that but if she saw an issue she'd call my doctor. If not, I'd be on my way.

Less than thirty minutes later she called my doctor and a nice older man wheeled me through the hospital tunnel and into the emergency room. Where Angela and I proceeded to sit with a few hundred other patients and family members for two hours. Wearing surgical masks. Praying that A) we didn't catch any of what we saw all around us and B) my leg would not fall off before I saw a doctor.

We eventually got a room in the ER. I was put on a Heparin IV drip and they did a heart test. Seven and a half hours later I was transferred (via a call made by my new HMO) to Alahambra Hospital, east of downtown Los Angeles. I was taken by ambulance. It was the middle of the night. I was exhausted and terrified and not all that impressed with my lot in life at the moment. But then I arrived at the hospital and the nicest nurses in the world greeted me and admitted me and fed me and hooked me up to a heart monitor among other things and proceeded to make me feel like I would be okay. And guess what?

I was. I am.

Saturday's breakfast

It was a long couple of days. I learned that you really can get by without brushing your teeth or combing your hair or wearing a bra when you're worried about your heart stopping. I learned that hospital eggs and sausage taste amazing when you're deep down really physically hungry. I learned that I have amazing friends who would spend their Saturday traipsing all the way out to a town I'd barely heard of to bring me flowers and magazines and colorful pens and chocolate and plants and oranges and prayers and hugs. I learned that walking five feet to the bathroom and back again can feel like the biggest feat of your life. I learned that it's okay to ask for help. I learned that when you need people, they will come through for you.

Angela & I in my room at Alahambra Hospital

On Sunday morning I was told I'd be discharged later that afternoon. I'd spent two nights in Alahambra Hospital and I was grateful for my time there. I had mixed feelings about leaving. I was terrified of still having clots in my body but not being monitored to make sure they didn't travel to my heart or lungs (known as a pulmonary embolism, PE, which can be fatal). I was scared to go home because my heart rate was still high and no one knew why exactly. I was scared to go home because the pain in my leg had become intense. To the point I couldn't put much weight on it at all and it was so swollen it didn't really bend anymore.

Me leaving the hospital Sunday

But...I was ready for more than two hours of uninterrupted sleep. I was ready to be at home with my things and to eat my own food. I was ready to bathe (that wouldn't come for two more days but it eventually came!). I was ready to change my clothes. I was ready. But I wasn't ready to be alone. I couldn't really be alone. I couldn't get up without assistance and I could barely focus on a conversation let alone get my own food and remember to take my meds and all of that. Angela would take a few days off but she was exhausted and we decided we needed help. So we called my parents.

The fruit basket that Pauley sent

In about two hours they managed to buy plane tickets, pack their bags, and get to Detroit Metro Airport. By eight-thirty that night they were standing in my living room, just hours after I arrived home. For two weeks they shopped and cooked and cleaned and kept Angela and I going. And there are no words that can express the blessing that was to us both.

So now? So now I still have clots in my legs. Three weeks later. How do I know? Well, when my right leg is down or in use for more than a few minutes it gets red and blotchy and swells. Not nearly as bad as three weeks ago. And the pain is almost gone. I am still on blood thinners and will be for at least another five weeks. So I keep it elevated most of the day. I get up and walk religiously. I do stretches and exercises and massage it but I still keep it up.

The day after Mom & Dad arrived

And every day I do something new that I couldn't do the day before. I notice that the back of my knee is no longer swollen. I realize I haven't had a panic attack in three days and I think, maybe I won't die of a PE today. I walk outside and pull the trash can to the curb. I do chair yoga with a video I found on YouTube and try to pretend everyone in the video isn't ninety-seven. I take a shower when I'm home alone and though I have to sit on the side of the tub to shave my legs I thank god that I still have both legs to shave and that I am getting stronger every moment.

From Trace

I also deal with my HMO. I listen as the nurse at my primary care physician's office tells me they'll file a second appeal today to try and get me a referral to a hematologist, something that is being denied though no one understands why. I agree to go back down to Chinatown tomorrow at nine o'clock in the morning to give three more vials of blood because the seven they took last Saturday were apparently not quite enough. I go to acupuncture and trust that even though the drugs are working in my body, the needles and the massage and the love of friends will help too.

And I know that even though January 23rd has become a very unlucky (or lucky, if you're an optimist) day for me, it's the days that come after that matter more. The days of healing and survival and getting back to where I was, and then moving beyond there.

Mom & Dad at my doctor's office in Chinatown

(Funny tidbit -- as I lay in the ER on January 23rd, 2015, the RN said to me, oh, they already did blood tests. Angela and I both said, no, just ultrasound. She looked again. I'd had blood tests at Cedars on January 23rd, 2012, the day I'd been in the ER for my penicillin reaction. So yeah, January 23rd has a bit of a stigma attached to it now.)

Inside my doctor's office in Chinatown

I am blessed. The blood clots were detected as a result of a whole slew of people caring about me, including me. The blood clots are going away. Soon I will be better. Soon I will be headed to Hawaii. Soon I will be back to regular life. But in the meantime, I'm so blessed to be taken care of, to be prayed over, to be loved. I am blessed.