We have officially become a fixture in the ER. 3 visits in 3 days is a new record for me.
I should start by saying I am perfectly alright, and that us spending an average of 5 hours in ER each visit was not a reflection on the medically seriousness, but on how awfully inefficient the medical system is in Canada.
Basically, I was having a lot of strange sensations and pain in my arm, around Christmas, so on Boxing Day we went to a walk-in clinic. I get a warm fuzzy feeling when I enter a clinic, and the friendly receptionist in designer scrubs greets us. The thrill of familiarity of checking boxes of symptoms and filling out my name and Care Card # (which I need hardly point out I have memorize?). The smell of kill-everything disinfectant and hand sanitizer. Okay, I joke. Those are all the things that really BUG me when we go to a walk-in clinic. Except for the friendly nurses :).
We were hoping to not have to go to the ER to have my arm checked out, and instead check and see if I had an infection or something. I have been feeling quite ‘low’ lately, sometimes an indication of something more going on than the Lyme. This doctor was, like, actually a wonderful doctor. We usually have to demand a basic CBC (blood profile), just to make sure everything is normal while I’m on the drugs, but it was like this kind doctor actually got it. I wasn’t the weird, trouble-making, difficult patient that some doctors seem to think I am. Meeting wonderful doctors gives me such a feeling of hope for the future. I know now that there are some excellent physicians out there, and once the BC CDC takes the heat off doctors trying to help Lyme patients, I think there will be loads of helpful doctors waiting to look after us all.
The doctor at the clinic was so nice and sent us to the lab at the hospital to get tested. That was when we discovered that my line wouldn’t aspirate blood (ie: we couldn’t pull blood out of the PICC Line). We could flush through saline just fine, but no luck with the blood. So of course, the way you solve all simple, little problems in Canada is to head to the ER. It is very frustrating for everyone (especially the staff and patients!) to have to wait so long for non-emergency care, but it’s the only way to get something done reasonably quickly. After a long wait, the put some TPA into my line, which is a kind of magic fix-em & clot-buster. It takes an hour for the stuff to work, so there was much knitting and audio-book listening. Well dose #1 didn’t work, so they sent me home that night with another dose in my line, in the hope that my line would clear up.
The next day…still no blood. “Hunh? This is funny…It usually works.” was the response. I hear that a lot though :P. So I had another dose (hours of waiting occurred in-between first seeing the IV nurses, and getting the TPA, and then them trying to take the TPA out. I condensed all that waiting into a few lines…lucky you guys!). The line turned out to be good an blocked, and we couldn’t get any blood for the blood-test, or for any other reason. The doctor was kind and a good listener, and suggested that we should pull out the IV line. This usually wouldn’t be a problem. They’d just put another one in and I’d be find to do my meds. But with no doctor in Canada willing to put in a PICC line for treatment of Lyme disease, this wasn’t an option. The truth is these lines are expensive, and I have been sick for so long and it costs so much money; how would we get another line? We explained the situation: how we couldn’t get any help here, and that this IV line was the only way I would every get better. He let us go home, telling us that someone would get in touch tomorrow about coming in for a dye-study, to see how the line was blocked, and if they could fix it.
It was much to our surprise that the next day we found ourselves in the imaging waiting room. The whole afternoon had a shiny, surreal feeling to it, as they kindly settled me into the clean room, politely asking which PICC line we’d like (so of course we chose the purple and blue one! ~kidding). They even managed to put the new PICC line in the same site as the old one, something they apparently hadn’t done before. They injected a little dye to help them see inside my body. Then there was a lot of poking in my arm with guide wires and several staff powwows before they got everything in order and slapped a clear dressing over everything. They sent me home with tons of extra dressings and such.
I was resting peacefully at home for about 6 hours after. The pain creeped up on me very slowly until I could not ignore any more the agony in my chest. Pain thrumming in my chest, making it difficult to breathe. I tried to articulate how I was feeling, but all that came out was slurred, broken sentences. So it was back to the ER again, with our mind on the possibility of a blood clot. I have to chuckle, even with the pain, as we explain to the intake nurse, that, no, we haven’t moved in the past 24 hours, and our contact information has remained the same.
Pain escalating, radiating from my chest around the back of my ribs, down my legs. Belly cramps. The pain was beyond my control, something that despite all my peaceful breathing I couldn’t think myself out of. They didn’t know what was wrong there, but gave me an IM of ketamin, a pain drug/low-dose anesthetic, which calmed things right down.
It wasn’t until we got home that we had time to put a couple of repeating patterns into a more succinct hypothesis. I have had severe chest pains before after having contrast dye. After MRI’s, after my CCSVI therapy. The symptoms, the way the pain traveled, was almost identical to those other times. So hopefully this means no more dye for me. It has always made me feel ill inside. Tight in my chest.
But on the bright side of all this, I have a Canadian PICC line poking out of my arm. A PICC line that was put in here means they have to take care of it. Wow. A true miracle, yes?