I'd like to thank Simon and Garfunkle for the brilliance of these lyrics. In one of my dehydrated, drugged out ER visits several years ago I muttered these words to Scott. It's become my code words to him that I'm miserably comfortable with my old IV friends, but will be ok in the end. I always appreciate his chuckle to this and have written it on my IV pole for a sense of comfort.
Christmas was the last day I felt well and I have been virtually bedridden since the end of January. I have a condition called Hyperemesis Gravadium. The dictionary should just define it as pregnancy hell, but there is a foundation that provides a more proper definition.
www.helpher.org
I'm part of a research study to try and link HG as a genetic auto-immune disorder. This is my third time around with it. You need not ask if we are having anymore kids after this!
I wanted to be able to paint a humerous picture of my HG journey, but it is impossible. The only positive side has been that I'm not throwing up (barely) through the medication. But the nausea and fatigue are unbarable much of the day. HG for me has included weeks of living off of less than 300 calories a day, mostly potatoes and toast. This might sound like an amazing weight loss plan (I call it the world war II diet), but it comes with passing out spells and being too weak to do anything but just exist. I've proven that you can hallucianate when you get too dehyrated and malnourished. I don't recommend trying this by the way. I'm constantly amazed at medical technology. My PICC line is now hooked to a backpack pump instead of the dreaded pole, and daily I'm reminded that it keeps me alive. To think that we can drink through our arms! For a while I ate through my nose. In case you are wondering, NG feeding tubes should be considered a form of torture that only the CIA is authrized to use for national security purposes. My nephew should be a national hero for enduring one for two years! Mine made my condition worse and I wimped out after four days, but it was worth any attempt to get more calories in. I also went nuts on the drug that accompanied it. I had to have Scott restrain me from trying to scratch all the skin off my arms. But at the time, I knew that my skin was the source of all my misery and I'd do better without it. Actually, I do find this somewhat humerous now. Along with two PICC lines, a clot in my shoulder, and countless hours spent just managing my health, I cannot wait for the next 5 months to pass quickly.
Although this has been very hard, the worst has been not being able to be a mom, a wife, and the keeper of our home. I've had to call in help for every aspect of our life. I can count on an average of 30 hours of help on any given week. These are all people coming to our home and taking care of everything that I cannot do. I have been touched to the point of tears of the help and love shown to us. I did not ask for help in my last pregnancy, which was a big mistake. We are all required to render service in our life. If God gives you a challenge it is likely his way of giving somebody else a needed opportunity to help you. As hard as it's been, having people constantly around has helped me stay positive and focused. There are still discouraging days where I feel very ill and the words "Thank You" seem too weak an expression. But our life will return to normal soon. In the mean time, I thank my husband for transforming daily from operations manager by day, super dad by night. He's been incredibly good to me, even when I look, and smell, less than desirable. But because of him and all the help around us, I've worked up to 1000 calories a day and the ability to actually get out of bed for a portion of the day. This progress will continue to be slow, but I am happy to have people cheering me each step of the way.
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