I finally arrived in a room where they gave me the awesome hospital gown so I can moon the world, the not-so-comfortable bed that I slept in for 2 days just a couple of weeks prior, and a strict no food diet.
This is going to be fantastic.
A nurse comes in and runs over all of my medical information and hooks me up to all the things.
Then began the next part: the scary part.
She walked me through all the side effects of magnesium, and needless to say, if I wasn’t scared before, I was scared now.
Magnesium can cause your lungs to build up with fluid, therefore requiring a nurse to stay with you constantly for the first hour once you begin the medicine.
Magnesium is also a smooth muscle relaxer, which can help your heart relax a little and bring your BP down; however, it can also cause other muscles to also relax and not work.
For instance, not being able to walk is a possibility – cue bedside toilet and the talk of a bed pan.
So dignity is off the table…awesome.
Magnesium can also feel like you’ve had too much to drink complete with blurred vision and slurred speech.
Magnesium also can cause migraines complete with aversions to bright light.
Oh, magnesium can also cause your esophagus to relax and be unable to swallow.
Because of these side effects, and others I can’t even remember, and the fact I have a newborn needing to stay with me, someone had to be with me at all times while on the magnesium drip.
No thanks.
I’ll take my heart problem to go, please.
I also kept thinking, how will I feed my baby?
Will someone literally hold him to my breast so he can eat?
Will I even be able to hold him once everything kicks in?
Will it completely take me down and I’m unable to completely care for my baby?
Cue next fear cycle.
They hooked me up to the drip and within 10 minutes I felt like I had way too many margaritas.
My vision blurred.
My eyes felt like they were moving slowly around the room and carrying light in slow motion with it.
My speech began to blur and my brain was slow to process information (answering questions, etc).
I was already ready to be done.
Every 15 minutes, the nurse would come and listen intently to my lungs and heart, and check the reflexes of my legs (remember, I could lose the ability to walk while on this drip).
Thankfully I passed the first hour with only blurred vision and slowed speech.
Now the nurse’s rhythm shifts to every hour checking the same thing.
Then the time came that I needed to use the restroom.
*dragging noise*
The bedside toilet appeared right next to my bed.
FABULOUS.
I tried to use that stupid thing, but it was so uncomfortable making me unable to pee, which I needed to do to flush out the magnesium.
I asked if I could just walk to the bathroom since I felt fine(ish).
The nurse was fine with it.
Thank goodness.
Never thought I’d feel so estatic about using a hospital bathroom.
Anyway, that was my rhythm for a while.
Eat jello, hold and feed my baby, and use the bathroom.
I was also thankful that every time the BP cuff went off, my numbers continued to improve.
They originally told me that I would need to be on the mag for 24 hours.
I literally cried.
I did NOT want to be here.
I asked if I responded well to it, if I could stop the medicine at 12 hours.
They couldn’t give me an answer since the doctor was the one who made the call, but I made sure to make my feelings and desires known every chance I had (kindly, of course).
Unfortunately, as the magnesium did its work, my reflexes stopped responding.
They’d take the rubber triangle thingy, hit that tendon underneath the knee cap, and less and less would happen.
Eventually, I needed Brent and the nurse to help me to the restroom.
Walking literally felt like I was lifting bags of rice – complete dead weight.
I would lean on them, pull up my leg and watch as I laid my foot down and repeat with the otherside.
I was determined to use the bathroom.
And honestly, any movement is good for me, especially being practically bedridden during this portion.
I wanted off this medicine like yesterday.
I continued to plead with the nurses to advocate on my behalf to the doctor.
What I wrote above all happened within the first 8 hours.
The highlight of this time, was getting to see my girls.
Brent brought them the following afternoon, and even though I had a migraine, I loved seeing and hearing them (they bring noise wherever they go).
The nurse’s were kind to let my giant family into the room with me.
They could tell my spirits were lifted by their presence.
They brought me ice cream and snuggles, the best medicine.
They left and I was still stuck in the hospital on this horrible medicine, begging and pleading for them to send me home.
I will do whatever you say, I just want to go home.
Because I responded well to the medicine, the doctor allowed them to stop the medicine and monitor me at the 12 hour mark.
As long as my numbers stayed within normal limits, I would be able to go home in 8 HOURS!
8 FLIPPING HOURS!
Apparently, my body needed time to adjust to not having the medicine run through my veins.
God is so kind.
My body adjusted okay, and it was looking like I would be able to go home.
They started discharge paperwork.
And as the time neared for my last BP reading, I had another episode.
SO CLOSE.
I WAS SO CLOSE.
The cuff began to fill with air, squeezing the absolute crap out of my arm, and I just knew.
I knew it was going to be noticeably higher.
And it was: 140/90
NO!
I started crying.
They weren’t going to send me home.
This was too high a number.
I’m holding little man, who is asleep on my chest, bawling that I couldn’t see my family.
My mother in law came over to help with Felix, but I couldn’t let him go.
I needed him.
I needed his warmth, his assurance that I was there.
I needed my baby.
I blubbered out, “No! Don’t take him.”
I needed control over one thing happening to me.
And that was to keep my baby close as I experience disappointment and fear.
The nurse calmly came over and took my BP again, and thankfully it was a few numbers lower.
She said that was acceptable to go home.
I sobbed.
I was so thankful.
I was so ready.
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
I got my butt up, showing for all the world to see with my flapping hospital gown, and changed to leave.
A sweet friend of mine had already come with a bag packed of clothes and snacks to stay with me.
She had the best job, to bring me back home.
When I finally arrived back home, I was so relaxed.
Sitting in my chair with all of my things, with my girls in their rooms just around the corner (I came back home at bedtime), and Brent close by.
I begged for this.
And it was just what I needed.
I was sent home on BP meds and told to take my BP 3 times a day and report in anything irregular.
It was a best case scenario.
The magnesium worked.
I was only on it for half the time they said I would need.
Even the BP prescription I only needed for 2 weeks before I was able to wean off of it.
Y’all.
God was so good to me.
Even in my fear, He met me.
He cared for me through friends, through family, through the hospital nursing staff.
He reminded me of my mortality.
He reminded me that I need Him in all aspects.
He reminded me how much He works through and in all things for my good.
It may not have felt good to experience it all, but I learned so much about how caring He was to me.
I am here.
He softened me through this whole experience.
I notice I am more tender towards my girls.
I am more gracious to those around me (at least I think so).
I am thankful.
image at my husband’s family reunion.
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