Better Safe... Part 2

Laying in the dark of the hospital room and itching from head to toe, I struggled to convince my nurse that I was having a full-blown allergic reaction to something. Eventually, she turned the overhead light on and saw my otherworldly pigment. I preceded to tell her about my allergies and tendency for anaphalaxis, so the nurse rushed to retrieve a potent dose of Benadryl. The antihistamine went to work immediately and quelled the response.

As I slipped out of harm's reach, my nurse left to investigate the cause of the intense episode. It turned out that I had experienced "Red Man Syndrome" - a common reaction to the one of my antibiotics, called Vancomycin.

March 28th - Red-Lettered

Like stereotypical, modern-day sleuths, my wife and I took to Google and discovered that "Red Man Syndrome" was more uncomfortable than deadly. And we also learned that Vancomycin is also known as the "drug of last resort". Was my illness and situation really THAT dire?

The next morning, I noticed the unfamiliar word - "neutropenic" - stamped in red on my breakfast menu. I was informed by the nurse that it meant my white blood cell count was extremely low and that I was highly susceptible to further infection. My hospital room became a quarantine zone of sorts, outside of which was posted a strict set a rules. I felt like the lone member of The Outcast Club.

March 29th - Club Rules

That same day, I underwent a Transesophageal Echocardiogram (T.E.E.). The procedure involved the insertion of special camera into my esophagus to allow an unobstructed look at my valve. If a bacterial infection had reached it, the vegetation could dislodge and cause me to have a stroke. In order to rule out this possibility, I underwent the T.E.E. with my awesome cardiologist at the helm. After being sedated and having a peculiar dream involving choking, wooden blocks, and Plinko, the results were in: Nemo was all clear!

Being a hospital veteran, I highlighted the following four days with short walks around the ICU in an effort to keep my body active...and to retain my sanity. Each day, I was told that tomorrow might be the day that I could go home. And each day, my doctors said my cultures were inconclusive; my return home would have to wait.

To be continued...