So much for June!
I left you with a bit of a cliffhanger and I want to thank everyone for their good wishes. I'm alive . . . but crankier.
So I've always had this issue that I thought was normal but apparently isn't. When I eat something sour, I will often have a sharp pain in my jaw. In the last few years, sometimes I'd get the pain even if what I had in my mouth wasn't sour or salty.
When I was sick a few weeks ago, I had that pain and my face even swelled a bit on the left side. I thought it was just a swollen lymph node or something, due to the sickness.
On the night of Thursday, June 11, the pain came back and my face started swelling a lot. The left side of my face was noticeably larger and really tender to the touch. I did some looking around the internet and found Parotitis. I diagnosed myself and hoped it would go away overnight.
I woke up the next day, still a little swollen and sore, but much better. I went to work and I know I probably helped it along by messing with it, but my face got worse. It hurt to eat, so I ate half a piece of wedding shower cake mid-morning.
The people who noticed my face were concerned. I told them I had already diagnosed myself, but they were skeptical.
"With what? WebMD?"
No way! I hate WebMD. Okay, so it helped me diagnose my mother's shingles but other than that, it usually all comes down to "You have a tumor."
Since Friday the 12th was Sadie's birthday, I had planned on spending the evening with her and showering her with presents. I thought I'd bear with the face for another night and if it was still bad on Saturday, I'd go to the doctor.
But then I got to thinking . . . what if I was wrong about my diagnosis? What if it was the mumps?
I called Raw and let her know I probably wouldn't be showing up to the party and called poor Doll. As soon as she saw my face, she laughed at me. She then threw me in the car and ordered me to a doctor. We went to a Take Care Health Clinic at a nearby Walgreen's. It was surprisingly awesome and I totally recommend going for any quick & easy medical needs.
They thought I had the mumps and were quite adamant that I get to a hospital ASAP. There was no real treatment, but it would have to be reported.
I ended up at Wesley's E.R., which is totally not like the emergency rooms you see on television. The triage nurse was pretty horrified by my face and semi-quarantined me before calling someone down to take a look. If it was mumps, they couldn't just let me sit in the waiting room.
Then she threw the blood pressure cuff on my arm and started it up. She started talking. Telling me all these horrifying stories about her son's face and the pain he was in. The machine didn't work and she kept trying to read my blood pressure on the same arm. Six times. All while telling me to go to my happy place and talk talk talking and wow it's crowded in here and oh man the computer went down . . .
It was really not the best situation for a good blood pressure reading. When she still couldn't get a reading, she worked the other arm. Five times. I think you can see where this is going.
When she finally settled on a reading, my pressure was sky high. Like why-are-you-not-collapsed-on-the-floor-in-the-middle-of-a-stroke high.
Needless to say, there was concern. But not enough concern to make me wait any less than one hour for a doctor.
The nurse approached me from my "good side" and when we went behind my curtain she asked "So what brings you in?"
"Well, I have this face."
She turned and looked. "Oh. Oh wow! Woah!"
The swelling had worsened.
My doctor came in and surprised me with his um . . . gregarious ways. Gregarious is a good word to describe him. He's a big guy with a crazy beard. He's an intern, but an intern just cocky enough that I thought he might know what he was talking about. Especially when he said "It looks like--and this is pretty cool because I've never seen this--Parotitis."
Yes. Once again Dr. Bee is right.
Between the swelling and the high blood pressure, the doctor thought it necessary for me to stay the night in the hospital.
One night and a new set of doctors turned into two nights. Two miserable nights.
The doctors were pretty sure I had one of a few different diseases/disorders. Both my blood pressure and pulse were high. Not as high as the triage nurse made it, but high nonetheless.
Apparently this is abnormal. Usually, if someone has high blood pressure, the pulse is slow, and vice versa. I guess I live it hard and fast.
They pumped me full of antibiotics and fluid. Unfortunately, they could not test for the reason my heart is beating so crazy because the infection in my face would throw off the results. Tomorrow, I'm going in to see the doctor and decide what's next.
That's really all I know for now. I have things to tell you, but boy did this turn out to be long-winded already! So the stories of Percocet and my horrific roommate will have to wait.