Wednesday, January 4, 2012

The Calm Before The Storm

   Yesterday I experienced one of the worst days of my life. I pray that it never happens again:
   I am looking through my family's eyes and I shrink in abhorrence. I see fear and sadness. There is also forgiveness and even a few laughs.  Nonetheless, my yesterday resulted in a ride to the hospital in the back of an ambulance that has forever changed my perspective of hepatic encephalopathy. The ambulance crew had to rehydrate me on the way to the hospital and I spent the night drinking Lactulose. As some may remember, Lactulose is the medicine that expels the ammonia from the body by diarrhea. When the liver can no longer do it on its own, the ammonia finds its way to the brain and you experience certain mood swings. There can be hallucination and disorientation and perhaps the worst one is being argumentative. I get that way. I had slipped beyond the sane to the insane.
   I had turned argumentative and yelled at Lois as she tried to get me to drink some Lactulose. She could see what was happening to me. I was lashing out and sweeping things off the shelves. Later, as I tossed and turned throughout the night at the hospital, recollection came back in bits and pieces. At on point I had a sort of tunnel vision of my oldest standing far away with a look of panic. Last night I learned what real fear looked like. It saddened my heart when I thought of what my family had to endure. I started to cry, but then the night nurse showed up, taking my vitals and seeing if I'd gone to the bathroom yet. They were giving me Lactulose every couple hours. Sometime during the wee hours, I had come around, but it wasn't until 7 in the morning before I finally started to use the bathroom and the fog truly cleared.
   I am still taking the Lactulose and I am back at home. Hopefully I will remain here until transplant. Hopefully things will return to normal. For all our sakes.


  1. Ugh. Good wishes to you and your family.

  2. Your family did have to endure it, but so do you and you maybe feeling worse now than they. They love you and know that you love them and that this, is not a permenant issue. Things will get better. Dont lose hope. xx

  3. I am so sorry sounds so much like me coming off of steroids. I am absolutely horrible to my family...but you know, and they all know we are temporarily out of our minds and love us even when they feel frightened or hurt or confused. You have to love yourself too my friend. You are so courageous with all you endure. I pray that the transplant happens very soon and the cyst is simply a cyst and not a reason to take you off the list. I will continue to hold you in my prayers as always.
    gentle steps,

  4. I'm devastated to hear your news. Your episode sounds pretty name crappy. Lashing out at the people you love most has to hurt like hell. You deserve and need some relief. That is my prayer for all of you. God bless.