That Time My Fibroid Almost Killed Me - Day 4 & 5

Today's blog post is brought to you by the home made Irish Cream Liqueur that I made tonight!  I will post the recipe in my next blog post.

Day 4 and 5 of my ordeal are kind of a blur, but I do remember bits and pieces.

Monday (day 4) started out with a call from the hospital saying that they had a spot booked for me on Wednesday to have an ultrasound.  It was early in the morning, which was good because I had a family doctor appointment that afternoon.

The Progesterone prescription that they gave me the previous day was starting to slow down the bleeding to a normal menstruation, but I was still throwing up everything I ate, and was starting to get fairly weak.  It was hard to get from the bedroom to the kitchen without having to stop to catch my breath.  My head was pounding.

One of my neighbours had come over to check on me in the morning and had brought me some scrambled eggs and cinnamon raisin toast.  I was physically starving, but one bite of egg and my stomach instantly turned.  Luckily my neighbour knew where I kept the zip log bags and managed to grab one before I had started projectile puking.  I was so embarrassed.  Besides my husband and my parents, I am not sure if anyone has ever seen me throw up.  It is such a rare occurrence for me that no one is usually around if it does happen.  My neighbour is a very nurturing person and giving person.  She stayed around until I stopped throwing up and then sent me to bed.  She would come back over at lunch to check on me.  She also told me that she would take me to town (45 Min's away) for my ultrasound and then take me to the doctor (an hour drive from town) on Wednesday.

In the afternoon, my other neighbour had also showed up with a home made smoothie with ginger in it, which she thought may help my stomach. I did manage to hold down a couple of mouthfuls of the smoothie which was a feat seeing how nothing else was staying down.

During the days that I was sick, I was checking in on my work laptop a couple of times a day and doing what work I could.  It was one of the busiest times I ever had in the role with my new company, and a major project I was working on was supposed to be ready to roll the next week.  It was the worst time possible for me to take time off.  I stubbornly could not leave it until I got back, even at the request of my boss.  My work was assigned to one of my co-workers to handle while I was away.

The evening and next day were really a blur.  It was a repeat of trying to eat, throwing up, sleeping, checking on work emails, neighbours checking on me, and trying to keep myself at least showered.  My bathroom looked like a bomb had went off in it.  There was packages of feminine products everywhere, bottles of half finished sports drinks, buckets I was using to throw up in (cleaned out of course), about 12 glasses of water.  It was a mess and so was I.

Tuesday night as I was getting ready to go to bed, I noticed that one of my skin tags had turned black.  I thought that I must have hooked it on something and it was dying.  I got ready for bed and got out my clothing for the next day so I could just get up a few minutes before my Neighbour was picking me up, and just throw my clothes on and go.

To be honest, I was getting a little bit nervous that something serious was happening to my body.  I just felt so off.  I had never felt like that before, and I sure as heck never want to again.

To be continued...