Roid Rage I

I started intravenous (IV) steroids Monday, February 11. After all my other tests, blood, MRI and spinal fluid showed I had MS, my new neurologist Dr. S., in consultation with my neurosurgeon Dr. B. decided I needed this steroid treatment before I could have surgery. (This is apparently the treatment they give MS patients when they are having an "episode" so I fear these @#$%^&* steroids could be in my future). They considered that I had considerable inflammation in my spine and this would have to be calmed down or resolved before I could have surgery. Otherwise the surgery might not heal correctly. (And again, I thank God for Dr. B coming in my life. My previous Orthopedist would have just done the surgery, not knowing I had MS. No telling what could have happened to me...)

Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, Feb. 11, 12 and 13 I arrived on the 11th floor of one of Methodist Hospital's buildings at 8:00 a.m . It was a patient floor. They checked me into a semi-private room. I stayed in my clothes, the first day they put a temporry shunt in my arm and began the IV therapy (which lasted 2-3 hours). They fed me breakfast before and lunch afterwards and then I went back to work (with my arm and shunt wrapped in an ace bandage and my hospital bracelet on my wrist). The light really bothered my eyes from the steroids and I practically had to fight with some of the people in my department about keeping the office blinds closed. I believe one "supportive" fellow empoyee said, "Well it's not fair to everyone else that we have to close the blinds just because of one person." Thank you for your support. Of course at this point no one in the office knew I had MS, I just said I had some "undetermined" inflammation that had to be treated before surgery. The lies begin.

I was fortunate that this particular week of IVs was a rare slow one for me at work. Everyone was going to committee meetings to talk about applicants and make decisions. My really busy work began the following week when I would have to start coding, exporting, printing over 1000 personalized letters & envelopes as well as 160 accept letters, contracts, forms. And by that Monday when the work began I was a bonafide crazy person!

Because, once the IVs ended I had to go on oral steroids to wean my body from their effects. That first week I had to take 5 prednisone pills a day, the next week 4, etc. until the last week of 1/2 pill a day. But from the time the IVs ended I couldn't sleep. I would wake up at 3:00 EVERY MORNING. And not be able to sleep any further.

By the following Monday I was pretty darn crazy and exhausted--it had been at least six days since I had had any decent sleep. Dr. B. e-mailed me and I told him how I was and he said he'd phone in sleeping pills. That I would be better once I had slept. Well the pill order never got to the pharmacy. I hid out in my bedroom knowing I was losing my mind. I asked Ernest to call the Dr.'s office after hours. Of course I have spent 20 years with the kids calling the pediatrician after hours, talking to the answering service, getting help for sick kids, drugs phoned into the pharmacy. Ernest was clueless how to do this, and I had to explain it to him and even find the Dr.'s number and the pharmacy's number to call and ultimately he didn't get it done--and so I got no sleeping pills that night either. I threw a stinking fit! The one thing during my whole medical misadventure that I have ASKED him to do and he couldn't manage to get it done!!

I wanted to run out of the house screaming. And said so. Instead I ran out of the house in my pj's, grabbing my raincoat on the way out. Fuzzy slippers on too. I knew enough not to get behind the wheel, so instead I walked around several blocks. At 10:00 p.m. In the dark. With no cell phone. With no purse. With my left leg limping. Crying.

I eventually walked back home, seeing Ernest in the distance, driving off in his car looking for me. I went back in the house while he was still gone. Feeling smug that I had at least worried him! When he came back in the house, he quietly asked the kids, "Has Mom come home?" Of course, they said "yes;" they weren't aware of their parent's drama. By then I was back to hiding out in the bedroom again. And we have never talked about this! He doesn't know I know he drove around looking for me. And he doesn't know where I went.