There's No Place Like Home

Had someone given me a pair of Ruby Slippers 2 weeks ago I would have wanted to click them and repeat the familiar refrain, "There's no place like home" and be whisked back to the safety of my own house. In retrospect it's good that I didn't have that ability because I really needed to be in the hospital.

I was cleared by my renal doctor, Dr. Rinnir, yesterday morning to be able to go home. He said that I don't even need to follow up with him. I'm supposed to follow up with my rheumatologist and send blood work to Rinnir.

Yesterday was a little stressful because although I was anxious to go home I had to have the PICC line and the temporary dialysis port pulled from my body and learn how to give myself insulin shots.

One horrible side effect from the Prednisone is that I've developed what we're hoping is a temporary bout of diabetes. I am now on insulin until I'm off the steroids.

When I had the dialysis port put in my chest they didn't knock me out but they did numb the spot and I was pretty out of it besides that. I remember pressure and then it was done. The PICC line was another "pressure" thing...not painful.

I was petrified to have them pull those things out though. They brought me down to some room in the hospital where they put in all the drains and stuff and an abnormally hairy doctor came in to take the dialysis port out. I warned him about my skin sensitivity and I told him that normally I have a very high threshold for pain but that I was nervous that it was going to hurt...especially since he was not going to give me any form of anesthesia. As they say in the South, he "didn't pay me no mind" really. He told me he was going to clip the few stitches and then he'd apply pressure to the entry point and then I'd be done. He asked me to count to 1492. By the time my brain grasped the oddity of this number the port was out and I hadn't felt a thing. One down, one to go. The PICC line was basically the same thing but my nurse did that. I kept the PICC line. I'll use it for an object lesson at some point.

In the afternoon the diabetes counselor, Beth, came in to bring me my insulin pens and needles and to show me how to give myself the shots. In the old days they would give you a vial and some needles so you could give yourself insulin. Now they give you a pen that's loaded with a set amount of insulin and you dial the amount of insulin you need and stab yourself with the pen. In fact Beth told me to do it with a stabbing motion.


The needles are small and you screw them onto the top of the pen every time you need to give yourself insulin. I am supposed to test my sugar 15 minutes before I eat and then determine how much insulin I need to give myself using a sliding scale.

Then it was time to "practice". I am really not a sissy when it comes to pain. I usually have a very high tolerance for pain but my face got so hot and flushed at the thought of stabbing myself with a needle. I practiced into my thigh. I pinched the fat...a very easy task...and then stabbed the thing into my thigh. It wasn't bad. In fact I've given myself 2 shots since I've gotten home and I really can't feel it. I'm going to have to learn what works for me as far as the number of units to take. Last night I think I took too much and it made me a little dizzy and by bed time my blood sugar was 80 and I needed to drink some juice.

I'm also supposed to give myself a shot every night of a maintenance insulin type drug. Erik did not want me to take that shot last night because my glucose level was already within a normal range. I will have to call Beth and make sure that I'm not going to send myself into a coma or anything by taking the maintenance drug at night. The directions say that I should take it at night regardless of my blood sugar. I think Erik's just being extra cautious because of all I've been through already.

I got home yesterday around 5:30 and my Mom made a great dinner and we watched some TV. Around 9:00 I was crashing on the sofa so I went up to bed.

It was so lovely to go to sleep in my own bed! I did have to leave a light on in the closet because I was afraid that I'd wake up in the night and not remember where I was.

Today I've been trying to take it easy. I have started a couple of loads of laundry and I actually feel pretty normal. My legs are weak and I'll have to get used to going up the stairs again. It's amazing how quickly your muscles atrophy when all you do is sit in bed and go for short walks. I couldn't really move much until last Wednesday and I know it'll be a process of building strength again.

It was great to get a shower today without all of the paraphernalia that I had to wear in the hospital. I had to cover the port and PICC with plastic and it was just a difficult process. Today I was able to really scrub my hair. You should have seen all of the hair at the bottom of the shower! I feel like a cancer patient. I mean really...I've never shed so much hair. I don't know if it's because my scalp is also peeling and it's loosening the hair or if the small doses of Methotrexate that I took actually did this to me. Lucky for me I have a lot of hair but if I get any bald spots I'm going into seclusion! That will just be the straw that breaks the camels back! Vanity....it's a sin but seriously...I will not go out of the house looking like I'm on chemo. And I will not buy a wig!

Just because I'm out of the hospital doesn't mean that I won't be blogging on this blog any more. I've got a long road of recovery ahead of me and I'm sure there will be more stories to tell.

For now, I'm home and there really is "No place like home."