The potato that bleeds

(Written on my iPad. Please excuse typos)

Ah, the joys of hemoptysis. It started yesterday and the doctor agreed with my suggestion of cipro to nip it in the bud. Unfortunately, the hemoptysis didn’t go along with the program and woke me up at six this morning to let me know it was hungry and needed to be let out. It’s been so many years that I’ve lived with it that I believe it to be a demon or something evil inside me. What’s fascinating is that its season seems to be Autumn. Last week I wondered if it would return once more this time of year and it didn’t disappoint me.

So I’ve spent the day here in jail. They put me on three IV antibiotics which is a first for me and makes me wonder what they haven’t told me yet. It’s Sunday so their only job is to keep me alive until the weekday team gets here on Monday. I’m hoping they succeed in doing that. I’d like to see Monday.

I’ve spent the day playing the role of a potato quite well watching videos and not doing much else – other than bleeding every time I get up from the chair. I have lacked motivation to work or read or do much of anything.

I had to reject the first nurse who tried to put in an IV today. It’s strange how after hundreds of IVs I can tell if the person is going to succeed or not. I knew she wouldn’t by the way she was looking at my arm like it was the first time she’d ever seen one, asking me where I thought she should place it – a sure sign of trouble to come. Then she went for the hand and missed, of course. I love when they miss and have to go through the motion of moving the needle around, in and out, side to side, hoping to hit a vein as if they were spearing a tiny sausage that rolls every time the toothpick touches it. I had to ask for another nurse, which is always a bit uncomfortable. I asked nicely. The second nurse came in and placed it without issues. There is a god.

When my daughter woke up before my wife this morning, I had to tell her I’d won another free trip to the hospital of my choice. She cried. I didn’t, which surprised me. When these CF situations happen, I go into business mode. I can’t take time out for emotions. I have to get ready. It’s never an easy decision to put yourself in the hospital. Emotion only clouds the analysis of the situation. But the conversation with my daughter has stuck with me all day. Block it out. Block it out.

Ah, the joys of cystic fibrosis.

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12 thoughts on “The potato that bleeds

  1. So sorry to hear you’re in the hole. Know everyone on your blog list is praying for you and your family. Think positive happy thoughts and stay Strong

  2. You can be a bleeding potato, as long as you dont become a bleeding french fry, cause that would mean your goose was cooked, and that’d be terrible :)…..I dont know what that means, but i suppose its about time you were exposed to some juli-isms 🙂 I hope your stay is short and sweet. No worries about the little one, you would be shocked at what children can handle. what a strong little girl you will present to the world one day! And besides, you gave her the greatest gift ever, a fabulous Daddy, and coming from a daddy’s girl, you can take that one to the bank 🙂 keep looking up. my best love and light and good thoughts and vibes and hugs are all streaming your way through the abyss. much love ~j

  3. Aw, i’m so sorry to hear this! You certainly have had bad run of things. Praying you feel better and stronger every day, UC.

  4. First: Your vein-search visual of the elusive sausage/toothpick situation is the best I’ve heard yet. I’ll be stealing it). Onward…

    Sorry to hear you’re dealing with bleeding and hospital crap and the general crappiness that is CF. I’m wrapping up a two-week round myself (planned) and a first-time, ER-worthy experience with pleurisy (not). I can think of only one person I could wish it upon on my worst days – not even her, most of the time.

    The bit about your daughter made my heart hurt for you, and your struggles to hold on to your career even more so.
    Hang in there, buddy. You’re bound to catch a break before too long. ❤

    • Jessica,

      Steal away. If you’re ever at a party and you ever see a cocktail weenie fly off the table and onto the floor, go up the person with the toothpick in their hand and ask them if the draw blood for a living. I’d say the odds are strong that they do. I had one guy today miss and I watched as he moved the entire needle in and almost all the way out trying to stab the vein. I had to tell him that was enough and that he’s probably missed the vein. Thankfully, he got it on the second try.

      Sorry to hear you’re going in. Can’t wait to see the blog posts on that one. Pleurisy is a real drag. It’s sent me to a few ERs in my day. At least they gave me good painkillers.

      Ah, the daughter. I have to set an example and be strong if I’m going to ask her to do the same. I try to make light of it. It’s not always easy.

      As always, thanks for the visit and nice thoughts. Best to you on your upcoming visit. I wish you good health.

      UC

  5. I’m playing catch up today… I’ll probably comment on your latest post unless this one is more appropriate to comment on. 😉 That, and I’d better see what’s happened since then to say anything or ask anything, eh? Like those people that respond to e-mail in the order they came at the office instead of reading the last e-mail that says everything has been resolved… LOVE those people!

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