
This is Ann reporting in. If you've been checking the blog in the last week, you may have thought things are going well. When we left it over a week ago, Jaimee was taking oral antibiotics, and had done well for the first couple of days. The primary bloggers (Mike and Kenna) have apparently been busy and not able to update the blog. I asked for permission to add to the blog and get everyone up to date.
The good news of a week ago Thursday, didn't even last through the day. I noticed into by the end of the day Thursday, that Jaimee was starting to have stomach problems. She is and always has been a trouper, and continued throughout Thursday to try and ignore the pain. By Friday, she was laying down more often than she was up and about, as the pain had increasingly worsened with each day. Jaimee's not a person who likes to lay down. It was clear to me that the pain was getting pretty bad.
On Saturday, she was supposed to work a 10 hour shift. She was feeling terrible, but persisted in heading out to work. She was suffering a killer headache on top of the pain from the strong dosage of oral antibiotics. On the way to work, she ended up throwing up all over herself. thereby losing all of her medicines in that manner. She had to turn around and come back home, spending the rest of the day basically in bed.
It only got worse from there. Among the medicines she threw up was her seizure medicine. That ended up causing problems for her. All of a sudden, about mid-afternoon; she was wobbly and unable to walk. Her mother and I were trying to help her move from one location to another in the house; using her office secretary chair to wheel her, as a "pretend" wheelchair. It was difficult moving her from the "pretend" wheelchair to the couch. Jaimee is strong stuff. Through all these months, the two rounds of chemo, pain, and everything she's been though, I've NEVER seen her cry. As she collapsed in an awkward angled position on the couch, not yet able to put her body into a position of either sitting or laying down; I saw the tears come. It did truly break my heart. I know she had to be scared and literally at her rope's end. When I told her later that this was the first time I have seen her cry through this long ordeal, she stated that she is usually able to hold the tears until she's alone. I hurt for her in those lone times.
Anyhow, during this time that she was struggling and we were trying to help her move, she kept saying, "My tongue feels like it's too big for my mouth." I couldn't figure why she was all of a sudden so unable to move her body or function. Nor did I have a clue why the issues with her tongue. We found out much later, that she had probably had a petite mal seizure. There were several other symptoms that I can't remember, going on along with the inability to move her own body in a normal manner, and the feeling of a swollen tongue. As she named them off to her doctor at her next appointment, he said they fit with having had a seizure. That definitely wasn't something she needed on top of everything else that day.
At the beginning of the work week, she had what by now is a weekly CT scan. The doctor found the abscess has shrunk some but not near enough. She needed a lot more of the high dosages of antibiotics fed into her system somehow. Her veins blow and it's not successful to put the medicine in by IV anymore. The decision was made to put a PICC line in. This is something that Jaimee has fought against since it was first suggested.
A PICC line is where they put a tube into your vein, and shove it all the way up your arm, through your shoulder, then angled into an area in your chest. The tube is left there, and medicine can be fed into the body that way. Picc lines, for those that don't know; have been used to feed people who are unable to eat by mouth for whatever reason. Wednesday morning Jaimee had a 7:45 a.m appointment at the hospital. They took her to a surgical suite and snaked the tubes through her veins into her chest all the while she was awake and had no pain killer. The only thing they did is numb her arm, where the tube went in. This was a very traumatic procedure she had to endure. She went through it alone, and had to stay at the hospital for tests and ultrasounds and everything else the doctor required for the entire day. She didn't get home until around 6:00 p.m. from all this trauma and ordeal. I didn't know she was getting a Picc line until it was all over. Once I realized how traumatic this is; I feel really bad that she had to endure it alone without any of us there to help "hold her hand" through this.
Ever since they put the Picc line in, the arm had been burning and hurting. When she lifted her baby up; it's very painful and difficult. Friday morning, she woke up with her hand (on the arm with the picc line) swollen and white, and with some numbness. In addition to that, there was a lot more burning happening and even more pain in her arm. In addition to the pain and burning in her arm, there was also now pain in the shoulder. There was discomfort in the shoulder previously, but then it became painful. She called her doctor. They told her to rush in right then. They did an ultrasound and found that the pain in the shoulder was where the line was crossing over a nerve. On top of that, they saw a blood clot was forming there. They stopped immediately what they were doing. They had to pull the Picc line out. It's upsetting that she went though all that trauma to get the line put in; to only have to pull it out without getting the benefit of all this. Once again, fully awake, she had to endure the this procedure without benefit of some type of deadening agent/anesthesia/pain killers or something!
So here we are again. We need those antibiotics fed in. It's imperative she get them. IVs aren't working for her, the Picc had to be pulled. She's going to try once again to take them orally. From what happened the last time she tried, I don't think that's going to last more than a couple of days, before she's in bed with abdominal pain again. With all the pain Fred's presence in her head causes, she doesn't need more! Where we are going from here, or what happens next; I have no idea. Please everyone join with me in telling Fred, the unlovely abscess to PLEASE drop dead and leave Jaimee alone. Tonight as she as she snuggled with her daughter (picture above) she said, "THIS is the best medicine I could ever have". Wish we could bottle some of that and eliminate Fred once and for all!