Sarah Olson: Recovery with IV Rocephin*)!*)!!

Here you can introduce yourself and give an account of your medical history, visits to physicians, results of treatments, etc.
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Joined: Sun 30 Sep 2007 15:49

Re: Sarah Olson: Recovery with IV Rocephin*)!*)!!

Post by CaliforniaLyme » Wed 14 Nov 2007 17:03

Word of the day. Agnosia.

Definition of Agnosia

Agnosia: The inability to recognize and identify objects or persons despite having knowledge of the characteristics of those objects or persons. People with agnosia may have difficulty recognizing the geometric features of an object or face or may be able to perceive the geometric features but not know what the object is used for or whether a face is familiar or not. Agnosia can be limited to one sensory modality such as vision or hearing. For example, a person may have difficulty in recognizing an object as a cup or identifying a sound as a cough. Agnosia can result from strokes, dementia, or other neurological disorders. It typically results from damage to specific brain areas in the occipital or parietal lobes of the brain. People with agnosia may retain their cognitive abilities in other areas.

I will never forget not remembering. It was cruel. It was a cruelty I did not know my body had until the first time, which I can't even remember. It began, like everything else, once, and then, like everything else, returned, and returned again until it was frequent. Everything else gradually became constant but thank god this was near the end. Still, there were enough times, enough days, of staring at SPOON. Of not knowing what it was. Of turning it in my gnarled hands staring at its beatuy in amazement. What an incredible beautiful thing. What could it be for? there were other times when I could remember its name, but there were times enough where it would be blank. I had no clue whteher it was for brushing teeth, cleaning shoes or eating. It was an incredible little object. Worthy of wonder.

Beautiful little thing, what are you for?

It happened with some things and not with others. Some ordinary things would suddenly become Undone, Unanmed, Unknown. Spoons. My daughter. At least with her I managed to hold on to the fact she was my daughter. I was SO PROUD of that fact. My husband? There were times I would be sitting there, trying to act normal as possible, I was so afraid of a nursing home, I tried my best always, so hard, and I would be staring at him while he spoke to me. He would speak to me AS IF HE KNEW ME so I tried to act like I KNEW HIM. Sometimes my daughter would give it away, she would say, "Papa!" and I would go, "Aha, that means he is my HUSBAND. My husband." but if that didn't happen there were many times I would stare at him going, "I KNOW that guy, I KNOW him, what is his name? Who IS he? He acts like he knows me really well. Who IS he?"

Sometimes I would find myself mytifised by the most simple things for a long time. When it began to happen I was still walking around the house a lot, albeit lurching and slow and weak, and my husband would
notice it most in me in my kitchen skills.

I began to lose the ability to cook. I had already lost the ability to drive.

I had started stopping at green lights. Somehow the wires got crossed in my brian between red and green and I began to stop with some regularity, over and over, tricked again, at green lights.

People do not like it when you do that. They honk and yell at you.

I would look back at them and just go, "What is their problem? the light is GREEN!"

It had been going on for a week and I thought everyone had suddenly started driving WRONG. I did not know I was doing it. My brain thought it was working right. The day I stopped driving I was on Spreckels Drive at the light on Soquel and it was GREEN, wihch means you stop, and all these nasty mean people were yelling and HONKING at me and I rolled down my window and yelled back, "THE LIGHT IS GREEN!"

And when it turned red I went.

And then I pulled over into the pakring lot by Rite Aid and I sat and thought fora good fifteen minutes TRYING to figure out WHY pepole had started driving WRONG!!! And after about fifteen minutes it hit me- RED MEANS STOP. GREEN MEANS GO. Somehow for a whole week and more it had been switched in my brain and I did not notice it as wrong. I thought everyone else was wrong.

So that was my last day of driving until Rocephin saved me.

My husband did not think it was funny becuse our toddler was in the car. I tried to spin it as, "Honey, isn't tihs funny what happened to me today?" but he did not think it was funny. He forbade me to drive the car.
My doctor agreed with him which I did not think was FAIR. You have to understand my brain was impaired.
I really thought they were being unfair although immediately after that one day when I realized RED MEANS STOP I was very, very frightened of myself.

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Re: Sarah Olson: Recovery with IV Rocephin*)!*)!!

Post by NellyP » Thu 15 Nov 2007 0:49


Tell the person who told you you're telling too much of your story that I think it is an incredibly VALUABLE thing your are doing, that it probably would have helped me infinitely when I first became so ill, and everything, absolutely everything fell around my ears, and everybody, ABSOLUTELY EVERYBODY told me I was not sick but MAD. Reading what you are writing feels very soothing to my past; the damage that took place then can't be fixed, but I am finding your words deeply soothing.

Husband number one also went from being totally besotted with me for 5 years to finding me absolutely revolting (I saw it in his eyes), within a few months "why are you doing this to us?" was one of his favourite questions. Another quote from him; "it's not the fact that you're ill, it's the way you're dealing with it". "Why don't you just TRUST the doctors? There is NOTHING wrong with you". And he was such a NICE person, everybody always told me how lucky I was to be with such a loving, intelligent, caring, man; I was?!

And maybe one day soon, I too will start telling my story in installments; less daunting than trying to fit it all into one long effort-and much better reading, much stronger to have you sharing these meaningful, salient slices of your life with this awful illness.


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Re: Sarah Olson: Recovery with IV Rocephin*)!*)!!

Post by CaliforniaLyme » Thu 15 Nov 2007 17:20

Neyy, I would love to read your story someday!!!!

My ex-husband, from when I got sick, never once hugged me, held my hand, touched me, kissed me or made love to me again. Once I actually BEGGED him to touch me, to hold my hand actually, and he said, "You repulse me." actually more like, "You REPULSE me."

I thought once I got better he would want me again but it was not like that. Once I got betetr I tried to talk to him about therapy for a whole year but he wouldn't go. I brought up divorce then because he treated me cruelly and with contempt. When i brought up divorce he said, "No one will ever want you again. You think someone would want you? You're UGLY since you're sick! UGLY!"

This was a man who, for years prior to my getting sick, had never once yelled at me or been unkind. Never. I would have been shocked then. I had thought we had a deep spiritual connection- never did I dream that once I was no longer "arm candy" would he lose any interest in me. To be honestt though, I believe he has Lyme still, because he got sick, too, and from that time it wasn't just ME he lost interest in, it was sex completely. It is not normal for a 30 year old man not to have any sexual interest for 3 years including no masturbation. The fourth of July before last he was picking up our daughter and he said, "My knee has been KILLINg me all day- it just keeps coming back off and on- this knifelike pain- and look, it's swollen!" and yes, it was swollen. I began to say what of course I would say and he said, "No, it can't be the Lyme, I took antibiotics for a month!!!"

Anyway, we'll see.

Regardless, I wasn't leaving him because I wanted someone else, I at that time wanted him, who he was, before. I was leaving because I had given him one whole year of trying to get him to work on it- and my little daughter had begun to treat me the way he treated me- with contempt. I couldn't bear that.

My face was still swollen then, not monstrously, but not me. A different version of me, the not-pretty version...

The first time I felt pretty again was when this adorable kid, in his mid 20s, asked me out in the parking lot of our local Safeway a year or so later. I was so shocked, of course I said no. But he was nice, and cute, and sweet. I wa stunned. I had truly thought my husband had been right and that no one, ever again, would find me attractive-

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Re: Sarah Olson: Recovery with IV Rocephin*)!*)!!

Post by Yvonne » Fri 16 Nov 2007 14:58

CaliforniaLyme I have read your story yesterday afternoon.

Then I just find out that you are Sarah :oops:

When finished reading your story I had tears in my eyes because for everything what you have gone through and because I recognised a number of things.

never once hugged me, held my hand, touched me, kissed me or made love to me again
is one of the things I recognised.

Thank you for sharing your story with us.

Listen to all,
plucking a feather from every passing goose,
but follow no one absolutely

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Re: Sarah Olson: Recovery with IV Rocephin*)!*)!!

Post by CaliforniaLyme » Fri 16 Nov 2007 17:43

Thank you Yvonne!!! It is strange how things change that we never imagine would. I always thought he & I would be one of those couple who grew old together and who walked in time, step in step. We were always so close before. It is so odd. And yes, painful-

So I have to tell about The Dream my Mother Had.

When I got very, VERY sick, and I was clearly mentally very impaired, and physically very impaired, my husband and my mother had a discussion about how to take care of my child without me and whether or not to put me into a nursing home, a care facility or not, and when. I didn't know that at the time, but I suspected it, it was verified later how close they had come.

What I did get told was The Dream My Mother Had.

My mother lives in LA and has no time for sick people. When her animals get sick, she has them put down.
She is a very precise academic person, a PhD, a professor. Very cerebral.

So when I got very very sick my mother told me:

"Sarah, I had a dream last night. You and I and Evan (my older daughter) were at a carnival! There were crowds of people and we were walking together and all of a sudden you slipped away. I was holding on to Evans hand and looking across the crowd I saw you. I saw you- and you were WITH YOUR FATHER!!!"

(Note to Dear Reader: my father is deceased and has been since I was 17 years old.)

"You were with your FATHER on the other side of this great expanse, this crowd."

(Could you be a little clearer, Mom?)

"And you were AT PEACE and I looked at Evan and she and I were together and it was ALL OKAY."

(Just DIE now, Sarah, just LET GO!)

"DO you understand what the dream was about, Sarah?"

(Yes, Mom, but I am not quite ready to leave my toddler, thank you!)

"You mean I was dead?"

"You had LET GO and it was ALL RIGHT, Sarah."

(Not verbatim but something like that, scarred my trust in her for life, just DIE DIE DIE!!! We're TIRED of you being sick, just DIE ALREADY!!!!!!)

"Thanks, Mom."

It was one of the worst things that happened when I was sick.

I was fighting SO HARD just to make it through every damn day and my husband had given up on me and my mother LET ME GO. I have tried to LET GO of what SHE SAID over & over, but I am STILL hurt by it.
Still angered by it. SO i try not to think of it, but it is one of the things I find hard to forget. Still, I don't dwell on it, but I did for some time so it needs to bein My Sickness Story.

Dylan Thomas has always been one of my favorite poets-


Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

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Re: Sarah Olson: Recovery with IV Rocephin*)!*)!!

Post by CaliforniaLyme » Sat 24 Nov 2007 18:47

One thing I really learned from Lyme is how shallow I was before Lyme. I was very very petite and very pretty in a generic blonde way. Those were such important things to me. I never knew how important they were until they were gone- and that was when I learned how important they had been to my husband, too. So I can't blame him. It was a lot of who I was.

After the divroce, when my soon-to-be second husband and I were hanging out, I remember how grateful I was to learn he was diabetic. I had known him for years as an acquaintance and had never thought of him in a romantic way. We were just going out to coffee and hanging out a lot to be friends. But tihngs turned romantic and one day he told me he had diabetes which I had never known-

And my first repsonse was, THANK GOD! Because I knew he would understand what it was to have an illness that one did not control, that one could not magically wish away!!!

When I was dating after the divorce I didn't know how to tell people about the Lyme so I tended to tell them right off. I remember this one gentleman, he rolled his eyes at me humorously and said, "EVERYBODY HAS SOMETHING!" and he meant it. Everybody has something. His words helped me a lot because htey were so true- everybody has something. I wasn't the only person inthe world with SOME kind of condition, or faimly history, or baggage, or whatever. Lyme is just one disease. There are many.

I found that Lyme was not an impediment to my connecting with people. Only my fear was.

One thing I also feared was Going Back to Work Full Time.

My first husband had volunteered to pay alimony until our daughter was 18, but I refused it. I wanted to go back to work and support myself. We agreed on 3 years alimony so I could get healthier. And I did.

When I went back to work I was scared I would relapse from the stress.

I had became employed, after lyme, at a longterm live-in facility for the severely mentally ill drug addicts & alcoholics, almost all court referred and criminally inclined. I was counselor there and as such would be exposed many stressful situations.

I was TERRIFIED before going back to work, just TERRIFIED that I would relapse. But I was intent on doing it- and do you know what happened?

The opposite!!!

Work invigorated me. I LOVED it. I was able to arrange my schedule perfectly around my daughters schooling so that when she was at school, I worked. The facility was great in that regard. So I was able to be with her full time as much as before.

Instead of being drained and then symptomatic and then relapsing- what I had feared- I found myself pumped up with more energy because I was again functioning capably in an adult world after years of playgroups. It was lovely. Many of the clients were lovely, lovely mixed up, screwed up people, my favorite kind. A few of them were hardcore to the point of being distasteful, the sociopaths, but even they were fun and interesting if one could forget their unpleasant histories. There were very stressful times, feces smeared on the wall, urine on the floor, suicidal people all the time, death threats here and there- and the incessant smell of bad food- corn dogs, spaghetti, corn dogs, spaghetti. Institutionalization.

Luckily, there were cats. We not only had cats at work, we not infrequently had kittens in the office.
(And only a couple had ever come to bad ends by the clients hands, all the rest lived very happily there).
So that was lovely. And my co-workers were lovely- and 98% of the clients were lovely screwed up people.

And 40 hours a week was easy, with chronic Lyme.

I only had ONE symptom left at this time, a flare of my left knee pain right before my period.

When I was 4, a retired police dog attacked me and held me in a knee lock with her teeth (German Shepard, I was terrified of dogs for years after but babysat Great Danes in my teens to get over it)
for almost an hour until they located the owner. Since that time my left knee would give out when I was running sometimes. And it was this same bum left knee that held on to the Lyme pain in that old scar
tissue when the rest of me was fine...

So there I was, working, living, dating, and dating Ed, my soon-to-be second husband. Life was good again. Anyway, so life began to normalize, with trails and stress and pressures- but no relapse.

I had kept expecting to get worse again, but I didn't.

And every day I have is a gift.
Last edited by CaliforniaLyme on Wed 19 Mar 2008 15:10, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: Sarah Olson: Recovery with IV Rocephin*)!*)!!

Post by minitails2 » Sun 25 Nov 2007 9:27

You always have been lovely, are lovely, and always will be lovely. Your life enriches all the lives who have the luck to bump into yours.

p.s. You may not be 28 anymore (who is) but I'm pretty sure you're still considered "eye candy!" I'll get some male opinions and let you know!!

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Re: Sarah Olson: Recovery with IV Rocephin*)!*)!!

Post by CaliforniaLyme » Sun 25 Nov 2007 19:09

Oh I am NOT, don't be silly. Thank you though!*!! I am NOt though and I am glad. It was a lot of work*)!

We had WILD PIGS RUTTING AND ROOTING IN our backyard last night. Our house backs up to the greenbelt at the base of Nisene Mark State Park in Aptos. The creek is a corridor to the park- and deer came a few years in a row all the time- and one summer, terribly worrying for the cats- we had coyotes at dusk and dawn- they would run up into the yard- look around and run back down to the creek- clearly scanning for a cat. My friend Kim who was a park ranger said there was this one place off a path in NIsene where Rangers always found little cat collars. Literally piles of them. Isn't that horrid!!! But last night there were the weirdesty snorting sounds from the back yard and this morning the whole yard is rooted up with dirt holes everyhwere and grass pushed this way and that!!! Which explains those weird sounds!!! I kept waking up thinking I was having gross porno dreams (I have only ever watched part of one and didn't enjoy it btw, YUCK, so unrealistic!). All that weird grunting and snorting and movement sounds-

ANYWAY- I think I jumped straight from the worst time to life again in this chronology. The worst time was so painful.

The very worst day.

The very worst day was this one day when I had been bedridden for days and weeks and I was no longer able to climb in and out of the tub by myself. That was the only time my husband touched me actually, he did touch me then, and he hated it. He would help me in and out of the tub, not tenderly, but distastefully...
UGH. Roughly. And I would have to call him to help me OUT and he hated helping me, was disgusted by my body, by my weakness.

The past is painful. ANYWAY, I was lying there in bed and my old cat friend was with me. The sun
was glimmering darkly outside because it was winter. And I remember feeling that there would be no spring.

Years back, gosh, in high school my only places I went out to were drag bars. I was very active in the gay community, LA, in the 80s, was with a woman/girl from when we were both 15 to 21. I had friends die from AIDS, the first wave. And there was this song about early AIDS deaths by one of my favorite singers when I was in high school- (Lou Reed was my favroite singer) - Marc Almond- and there was this Marc ALmond rendition of a Jacques Brel song- about people dying- about friends dying- and when my friends died it always ran through my head for months really- and for the first time it played in my mind- for myself- the same refrain I always associated with others dying- I felt it- for me- that there would be no new spring- that i would never again feel the sun on my face in springtime- that I would never again be loved-
that it was over- that I was coming- to death- and I erally, truly, felt it in my bones, that I was going to die.
And that I was going to die alone, except for my cat, no one caring enough to hold my hand.

My mother doesn't hold hands. I wouldn't have asked my child to.
My husband was not interested. Only my cat was on my pillow, purring madly, loving me.
but I was so alone.

I finally, completely, gave up.
**************************************************************Marc ALmond song
From chrysanthemums to chrysanthemums
Our friends, they are departing
From chrysanthemums to chrysanthemums
Death gallows our dulcine'es
From chrysanthemums to chrysanthemums
Other flowers try the best they can
From chrysanthemums to chrysanthemums
Men lament while women wail

I'm coming
I'm coming
But what I would have dearly loved once more
To haul my bones towards the sun, towards summer
Towards spring, towards tomorrow
I'm coming
I'm coming
But what I have dearly loved once more
To see if the river is still the river
To see if the port is still the port
To see me there still
I'm coming
I'm coming
But why me? Why already? Why now? Where to go?
I'm coming
Of course I'm coming
Have I ever done anything but be coming?

From chrysanthemums to chrysanthemums
Each time all solitary
From chrysanthemums to chrysanthemums
Each time super numerary

I'm coming
I'm coming
But what I would have dearly loved once more
To take love like one takes the train to be more alone
To be elsewhere. to be content.
I'm coming
I'm coming
But what I would have dearly loved once more
To fill a trembling body with stars
And fall down dead consumed with passion
My heart in ashes
I'm coming
I'm coming
It's not you who is early
It's now me...It's now me who is late
I'm coming
Of course I'm coming
Have I ever done anything......anything but be coming?
I'm coming
I'm coming
I'm coming

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Re: Sarah Olson: Recovery with IV Rocephin*)!*)!!

Post by CaliforniaLyme » Mon 26 Nov 2007 17:18

At this point I was sleeping 22 hours a day. I am sure I have that tissue type Klempner identified that has a predilaection for both narcolepsy and chronic Lyme, because I would not sleep a normal sleep. I had this sleep where I was drowning insleep and could not stay awake- coming into consciousness was like coming above, water, gasping life, and being dragged back down into sleep again. I could NOT stay awake. It was hard to even open my eyes, I was exhausted 24 hours a day.

Sometime since IV Rocephin we went on a family vacation to Wisconsin, to this huge cabin in the woods
on the river Brule. The entire family canoed every day up and down the river Brule. What did I do? The entire vacation I lay in the enclosed porch swing during the day and slept all day long, all night long. All I did was sleep. I would infuse Rocephin and sleep. And sleep.

Once when we were driving down a particular place my whole family got out to hike and I got out of the truck. I hobbled slowly to this viewpoint and I looked out. It took me a long time and my Uncle helped me in and out of his truck. But I looked out and it was so pretty. That was my big outing, literally, that vacation.

They went on hikes. Wihtout me. My husband, my child, my mohter, my brother the lawyer, his wife the lawyer. Their daughter had not yet been born. My cousins, my aunt, my uncle. They went on hikes and came back and went canoeing and came back and I did not join them once. I wanted to.

I listened to them come and go.

At night my brother and sister-in-law and cousins went to a nightclub in the nearest big town. I think it was Duluth. They took my husband. I stayed back, sleeping.

My family was going on without me, with me there. It was a very deadening feeling. When they came in, all boisterous, from canoeing, or fishing, or hiking, their voices would fade in and out of my consciousness.
I longed for my husband or my mother or someone to come and sit by me and stroke my hair and tell me about what they had done. But the only one who seemed to know I was there was my toddler, who would come running and throw her arms around me and give me kisses. She remembered me and even though half the time I could not muster the energy to respond in any way, I felt her presence, her warmth. I heard her.

The only one who made an attempt was my Uncle, when he helped me out of the truck when they all went on that roadside hike. He stayed with me. He was amazed they were all going to leave me. My mohter is a fast-paced, impatient person, so is my brother, my ex husabnd, my sister-in-law. They all didn't even pause to think. My Uncle stayed that day, spent an hour with me, helped me down, helped me walk slowly to the view area 5 feet away, helped me walk slowly back, and in the truck, exhausted from my monumental excursion, sat with me as again, I slept.

We had to take the wheelchair through the airport connecting there, the wheelchair for me because I could not make it on my own. My husband was so embarassed. it hurt to have him be that way.

It hurt when they went hiking and canoeing and came back as if the house was empty. No hello, no goodbye. No caress, no whisper. Except my child. She remembered me.

When we were home again the sleeping continued. I slept 22 hours a day. Sometimes I would come up and be alert for 4-5 hours. That was amazing. I felt so strong when I could do that. Most times I couldn't.
My husband watched our child all the time.

The times I was not sleeping, I had begun to choke on food. It was scary. The only food I could get down was ice cream. I began to have one huge ice cream sundae a day, for calories, because I had quickly lost weight sometime in here, and it was not nice, it was scary. I could not get food down my throat, it would seize and I would choke instead of swallowing. I could not even swallow the ice cream.

The trick was to act as if notihng was in my throat and let the ice cream slide downwards. Tricking my body. There is nothing there, let it down!!!

This was the time my mother told me her dream.

This was the time my mother and my husband had spoken about a nursing home. They now both believed that IV Rocephin was not going to work, that it had been money wasted. But there was no other treatment.

And during this time I got the Groshong catheter.

We were out of money. 6 months IV Rocephin. $50,000 gone. My lovely doctor had just found a program for me, a free IV Rocephin program, and we were going to get it free from then on. But we just had enough money for the operation for the groshong- without anesthesia. Not with. Without. Just local.

I am someone who my whole life was scared of needles. And I would normally have been terrified of this.
And I was frightened.

My mother had money for it by the way. SO did my brother. But they did not believe in wasting money. IV Rocephin was clearly not working. If I was going to be stupid enough to go on, let it be on my dime, or lack of it. My husband told me I could either have it in without the full anesthesia, or not at all.

My doctor, my lovely doctor, told me to go on.

So I did. There was nothign else to do. No other treatment.

My regular doctors offered me palliative care for my symptoms from the time this all began, since 30 days of Doxy. They had nothing for me. There was nothing for me.

So I met with the surgeon who was going to put in my Groshong. Dr. John Long of SF Pacific medical Center. He said most people did full anesthesia especially with my blood pressure issues. I told him I would meditate. (Seriously.)

When we were going over pre-op stuff, he gently reached out a finger to my cheek. I just looked at him dumbly.

He said, "You're crying."

I had not known I was.

Tears were running down my cheeks.

He said, "Why are you crying?"

I said, "Nothing is going to help me & I am going to die."

He said, "Every patient of Doctor X that I have seen feels like that, they all come in here like you, and then they all come in to have their Groshonsg taken out, it takes time- but later- and they are full of life again- and happy- He is a good doctor."

I knew he was a good man, a good doctor. That was not the issue. I no longer believed I would get better.
Tears just kept falling down my face.

The day of the surgery was yet another begging day. I begged my husband to hold my hand going into surgery, before surgery. I begged him for a hug. I was so, so scared. I was just having local anesthesia.
he just looked at me in disgust. 'Don't ask me to touch you." he said in disgust. I was repulsive to him.

But I did ask. I begged him. "Please Aram- please hold my hand- please, I'm so scared-" and tears again were falling down my face, it was wet-

But he didn't reach out his hand.

That doctor, I will never forget his hand because it was so gentle, and tender, and caring- and he did not even know me. It had been so long since anyone had touched me nicely.

So no hand holding, no nothing. I went into surgery.

I was awake. It was strange. I began to meditate. My blood pressure calmed.

They gave me local anesthesia.

They cut into my collarbone. My breasts were bare on the table. Cold.

The surgeons, there were two of them, he was showing someone how to do a Groshong with me as the example. There was the strangest tugging sensation when he forced the groshong into my chest- it was so strange. There was the distance of no pain. There was mainly coldness- and shame, because all these people could see my bare breasts, my nipples erect from the cold. I was embarassed.

When the doctor said, "We're done." I stopped mediatating and the machines reacted. The doctors laughed and he said, "I have NEVER seen a patient whose blood pressure went up coming OUT of surgery before." I had managed to compeltely lower my bp during the surgery. Anyway, it was over.

And I went back home with my Groshong catheter.

It was easy to infuse. Easier to bathe.

My doctor said, It would be like a fire hydrant compared to a water faucet- that much more powerful- to have the IV Rocephin be spread inside me by that powerful stream of blood. The heart.

By this time I had been through 2 or 3 lines and had lost the vein in my left arm through a PICC line defect.
Month 5 had been entirely hand lines. Every few days I would have a new line put in my wrist veins or I would infuse needle straight into the veins with my Visiting nurse, who ahd come back when I had no lines anymore.

I hated hand lines.

Picc Lines were okay except the problem I had. That almost cost me my life.
Last edited by CaliforniaLyme on Wed 19 Mar 2008 15:54, edited 2 times in total.

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Joined: Tue 2 Oct 2007 17:09
Location: USA CT

Re: Sarah Olson: Recovery with IV Rocephin*)!*)!!

Post by trout77 » Mon 26 Nov 2007 19:55

IV rocephin worked for me I am better today because of it
I was very sick and on death door but it gave my life back.
IV rocephin doesn't work for everyone though everyone is different 8-)

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