In my previous post, I mentioned that my leak had closed and that I could be out of here by tomorrow. Unfortunately, for some inexplicable reason, I got nauseated. Nauseated. I have no idea why. I tried to fight it off for hours, I took Tylenol and alka seltzer, and it still wouldn’t go away. In fact, it slowly got worse. I could barely watch the game or interact with the guests that came to see me. Eventually, my mom used some Eastern medicine technique, poking both of my thumbs and inducing me to vomit. So I did, and finally felt some semblance of relief. Of course, right before I went to bed, I heard a familiar bubbling sound… the leak was back, probably due to the stress of throwing up. Are you freaking kidding me? I was sunk.
This morning was brutal. Since I was off suction, I could slowly feel the pneumothorax growing again. I tried to force the air out myself through the tube, but it kept hurting. At like three in the morning, I asked the nurses to put me back on suction, but they said it was okay and that they didn’t have the authority to do so. By eight in the morning, the pain was killing me so I demanded to be put back on suction again, so they paged the doctor. Finally, they came back, and amusingly enough, these nurses had no idea how to operate the apparatus (they almost plugged the suction in the wrong place until I told them otherwise). They eventually got me plugged back in and I slowly started to feel relief again.
It was disappointing, and I was mad. I felt like God was messing with my head. I was finally fine, the leak had finally closed… and I get nauseated? It was infuriating. I barely even ate anything, and I rarely throw up, ever. And to think that caused my leak to open up again was all sorts of annoying. I spent the early part of the day making smart-aleck comments at God in my head (this is not wise, by the way).
As the day progressed, I calmed down and assessed my options. Surgery was still on the table, and it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get operated on. Of course, after several naps, I woke up once and found that the bubbling stopped once again. Because my morning X-ray looked bad (obviously, I knew it would), one doctor really wants me to get surgery, but the surgeon himself came by recently. I explained what happened, he saw that I was no longer leaking, he shrugged and was like, “Well, we’ll try again,” and I’m off suction again. I will not throw up again. I’d rather stab myself in the head.
Anyway, I’m hoping I’m out Sunday, but I’ll have to keep looking at my surgery options. My mother thinks that I just need to pray, and while I do not doubt God’s power in keeping my lung intact, I believe he also gave us medicine and doctors, and he expects us to act wisely. We’ll see. It was a bump in the road and I had a miserable night and morning, but there may yet to be hope I’m out of this crappy place by this weekend.
I’m celebrating by eating ice cream right now.