So I posted last Thursday.  On Thursday night, I did what every woman would do, I tweezed my eyebrows.  That is about the only normal thing about the events of the weekend.  On Friday, I woke up and my eye was swollen so I had an infection brewing.  I called my regular Dr and he had no appointments available so I decided I would tough it out.  Friday afternoon, my eye got considerably worse so I called Instacare.  It was starting to hurt really bad and they asked me to come in.  I waited in the waiting room for about 1/2 hour when they called me back.  They took me to the eye room and there I sat.  The Dr came in put on her hand sanitizer and advised me that she would not be touching my eye.  She explained that she feared that I had "peri orbital cellulitis" and she then advised me that what I had was very serious and that I had 15 minutes to get to the ER.  She asked which one I wanted to go to and that she would call ahead but again reminded me I had 15 minutes to get there.  I dropped off my kids at home and headed in to LDS Hospital.  I did change my pants and put on my slippers because I wanted to comfy at the ER.  I am glad that I did because I got in to the ER and the Dr looked at it.  He attempted to lance it.  The nurse came in to discharge me and advised me that the Dr was not able to get a culture and so he wanted me to come back in on Saturday for a follow up.  The nurse then advised me that what I had was very serious and the Dr was tempted to start me on IV antibiotics on Friday so it was very important that I followed up on Saturday. 

I went home and slept.  On Saturday morning I woke up at 3:16 and my eye had gotten worse.  I debated on waking my family but decided to let them sleep.  My niece's kids came at 6:00 and I started taking care of them.  By 7:00 my eyes were both beginning to be affected.  I woke my husband and advised him that I needed to go to the ER because it was getting worse.

When I showed up at the ER they took me back to the eye room.  The Dr came in and said that we needed to pull out the "big guns" for this infection.  He then advised me that I would be going to have IV antibiotics.  I was relieved, but still trying to be strong.  My eyes were killing me.  They took me back to the ER and started my IV.  I was then informed that I would have 2 antibiotics, on top of the 2 oral that I was already taking and that the medication would take over 4 hours to be administered.  So, I settled in.  The  nurses were so kind.  Saturday the pain got worse while I was in the ER so I asked for an Ibuprofen.  The nurse advised me that they had better pain fighting medication.  My thoughts turned immediately to my sister.  When she died she had been taking "prescription" narcotics every 4 hours for months.  Realistically, we all knew that she was addicted to pain medication.  We tried to help her but it had gotten too far and she died.  Granted her health was not good, but the prescription narcotics are in my families mind what killed her.  The nurse was very kind and advised me that she would give me a very small dose.  She told me that because of the amount of pain I was in, there was no way I was going to get a high from it because the medication actually worked on the pain receptors.  I understood that, and I was grateful that she convinced me to do it.  I rested for the rest of the time until I was finished with my IV.  They then advised me that I would be going home but would be back every 12 hours throughout the weekend until I could be seen by my family Dr on Monday. 

I must admit, the hardest day was on Sunday.  Each visit in the ER I had a different Dr.  The Dr's were great.  The Dr on Sunday was very sarcastic.  I understood him, but after being in the ER and listening to people thru the curtain, there were some that did not appreciate his humor.  When he made his round to my curtain, he knew that he could get a culture, and he was determined to get a culture.  My sweet friend took me on Sunday and he came in and he squoze until he could get a sample.  He got the sample and I was in so much pain, I thought I would die.  He had the nurse give me morphine in my IV.  The sad thing, is that it didn't touch the pain I was in, so they gave me a new dose.  That lasted me for a while.  But, after the 4 hour infusion, I was ready for more pain meds. 

My favorite part of my visits were the nurses!  They were awesome.  These young girls were so kind and took such good care of me.  I was told by more than one nurse that they loved taking care of me because it is not very often they get a pleasant patient. 

On Monday, I saw my Family Dr and he lined me up with home health.  They taught me how to administer my own IV's and I was good until Tuesday, I blew the vein where the IV was going.  The home health care nurses advised me that the antibiotics that I had going thru my veins was not good for the small veins.  The nurse came in and got a new IV started but suggested a PICC line.  She called my Dr and he advised them that we would just watch it.  Well, Wednesday, I blew another vein, the last of my good ones.  I called home health and they called my Dr.  My Dr then made the decision to just "pull the IV's" and do oral antibiotics.  I was still taking pain meds every 4 hours with a low grade fever, I was not comfortable with that decision.  I called back in to LDS Hospital and they took over my care once again.  I got in there and they decided that I needed a PICC line so I was taken up to the infusion services floor and there I had a PICC line placed.  I will admit, it is so much easier to do, and I no longer need to be poked.  I am on IV antibiotics until at least Monday.  I felt better about the decision.

I have had a mess of emotions thru this.  On Friday, I felt so stupid going to the ER for a small infection.  My husband had a game on Friday night and all I could think of is that we needed to hurry so he could have the car.  On Saturday, I didn't want to put anyone out so I waited to go to the ER until I just couldn't handle it.  On Sunday, my sweet friend took me and sat with me and was so caring.  When my friend came in to bring me home on Sunday she saw my house.  Needless to say, she got my Ward involved and we have had helpers bring in meals and help my kids clean.

It was a rough week.  My kids have been good for the most part, but there have been a couple rough moments where they have been down right mean to me.  I have been called a "jerk", I have been told to "shut up", and been told that I need to be helping them clean.  I have been told that I should be grateful for my husband because he is the only one that worked this week. 

Two nights ago, our family had a huge blow out.  That night I had had enough.  I left my house to be with my friends.  I had no energy but told them I just needed to sit somewhere dark and quiet.  So, there I sat.  I had finally had enough and my pain was getting worse so they brought me home.  I walked in to my home and all HELL broke loose.  My own husband told me to shut up, and called me a jerk.  This is the man that should in all rights be fighting to keep his marriage.  My daughters were awful and cruel to me.  I struggled to find anyone in my home that actually cared for me.  When it came time to do my nighttime infusion I had had it.  I was done, and I didn't care if I lived or died.  Why would I care, because no one else did?  So, I sent a text to my therapist and she gave me the crisis hotline number.  I also had sent a text to my sweet friend that had spent the day with me on Sunday and she called me.  I promised her I would do the IV.