Hello everyone, I’m Kimberly. I
am a young, bright-eyed, and bushy-tailed 21 years old. I have a pulmonary
embolism in the lower lobe of my right lung. This is my story.
My diagnosis was on April 9, 2015
at 4:16 in the morning but that’s not where this journey began. This journey
began 9 months back when I went to Vegas and had to end up taking the “Morning
After Pill” due to protected sex however our condom failed us. Well I can say
that’s where it began or it could have begun almost exactly 4 months earlier
when I went to my OBGYN to get started on the pill so I could be protected
should something happen to another condom or they be disregarded all together
for whatever reason. Luckily my sex life has nothing to do with this at all so
we get to fast forward to the good stuff, to me getting sick. I work in the
food industry and at the particular place that I work at if I am assigned to a
certain place then I will be bending over a lot, moving heavy buckets that I
should probably get help with lifting most days, bending over, grabbing things
that are much higher up than my short stature can possibly reach safely, but I
do it all day in and day out. At this particular time I was about a month out
from going to another store and training new employees on that particular
station so I was assigned there every day since the day we found out where I
was training at, not that I minded during the day time it was less work than
anything else. But in addition to working this position I would open, carrying
tea urns that weren’t easy to manipulate, setting up the line and making sure I
had enough product prepped up for at least the day we were on, a day and a half
preferably. I would have to put my machine together, the arms of the machine
weigh probably near 15 pounds and on top of opening I would have to close, take
my machine apart, cleaning every surface I have and then making it sparkle,
cleaning out my tanks so that all the ice would melt and I would have new
surface to start with the next day, and scrubbing my floors.
One night in particular I was in
excruciating pain, I could work though it and get everything done but I knew I
needed to take some medicine because this was a week that this pain had been
ongoing; it just hadn’t ever been that bad. So I talked to my coworker because
I knew she used to have terrible pains when she first started and decided to
see what she recommended, obviously I just believed this to be a pulled muscle,
I could work through that. I sent a text to my mother on Easter telling her of
my pains and asking her what she recommended. She told me just basic medication
and heating pads to make me feel better, so I followed her advice, she also sat
up an appointment to go see my doctor for Wednesday, but I didn’t make it that
far. I texted her on Tuesday telling her about how much pain I was in. My sides
were splitting, I couldn’t breathe, I was crying. I just hurt so much and there
was nothing I could do to stop the pain. I tore off the heating pad and threw
it in the trash I was so angry because of how much pain I was in I would lay on
my bed at awkward angles in hopes that one of them would help. Finally I
couldn’t take it any longer I texted my mom shaking and screaming the entire
time, tears running freely down my face. After 10 minutes of trying to type
because I couldn’t talk I finally got my message sent and my mother was on her
way. Now here is where I feel bad, my cat-well my roommates cat-came to try to
comfort me, he knew how much pain I was in but I couldn’t take it he kept
meowing at me and while I never touched him I yelled at him and I know he just
wanted me to feel better but I couldn’t handle that at the moment, yelling
helped ease the pain as did crying so that’s what I did. Finally after 30
minutes of this pain, and no it didn’t take my mother that long to get to me, I
was finally able to calm my breathing some in the only way I knew how-Lamaze
breathing. See my mother had been an L&D nurse for ages so that was her way
of trying to help us breathe when we were in situations in which we just
couldn’t get air flowing.
When my mom got to my house she
saw how much pain I was in, she saw my breathing, she knew it was worse than
what I had ever let on to. I got into her car, struggling all the way and laid
the seat back—finally some relief—she asked me what hospital I wanted her to
take me to although in my text to her I had named one hospital in particular as
I didn’t think my symptoms were that serious. I hate being a bother. However
when she saw me she knew just how bad I was, she took me straight to her
hospital so that I could get looked at quickly. When we got there I still
couldn’t talk, couldn’t breathe, I felt more helpless than I have ever let myself
be. My mom got in quickly and explained my situation to them, I was taken back
as my mother was doing this by a nurse, someone who happened to be an old
family friend so I felt comfortable around him to be able to help me if
something should arise, they had me give a urine sample before settling me in a
room. They drew blood, had me change into a hospital gown, and started me on an
IV to help ease the pain I was in, that pain medicine soon became my best
friend as for the first time in over a week I finally was out of this pain that
had been taking over my life-I could sleep, I could breath, I could talk. I had
a portable x-ray machine brought to me and was taken to have a CT scan done.
All of my results came back negative. They said I had nothing wrong other than
probably constipation, a diagnosis I knew had to be wrong as I pooped quiet regularly;
I knew I wasn’t full of shit. Regardless I got a doctor’s note for skipping
work that day and being told that they wanted me off until Thursday and my diet
was to be restricted to the B.R.A.T diet.
When I got back to my house I was
all alone, something I was okay with as all I wanted to do was sleep and
although I love my roommates there were times they could be very loud without
realizing how loud they were being—something we are all guilty of from time to
time. So I got to sleep for a little while, the pain meds were still coursing
through my system however all too soon they wore off. I woke up and was in pain
again. I called my mom and told her it was time to pick up my meds, she brought
them to me as well as some food that I was allowed to eat--although she didn’t
think of the fact that my house doesn’t have a stove, a sink, really any sort
of kitchen—and had to head back off for work. I took the pills and waited for
them to kick in, slowly they did. Soon though I needed something to eat, I was
still home alone and in no shape to drive just yet, I texted my roommate to see
how much longer she was going to be out however I got no reply from her. I was desperate;
I messaged an old acquaintance that I had told of me going to the hospital on
accident. He and I didn’t talk any more due to similar interests that never
worked out, plus he had found someone to take my old spot. However he was caring,
when I told him of my situation he was willing to come and get me so that I
could receive nourishment. Right as he was getting ready to leave his house my
roommate got home, she was going to go shopping for me. I’ve never told her how
thankful I am to her for that as I was anxious about seeing him.
However that night the pain got
horrible again. I called my mom, I knew this wasn’t constipation but I didn’t
know what it was. She came and picked me up and took me to the ER, a different
one this time as the doctor from that afternoon was still on duty and she
wanted me to get seem by someone who wouldn’t already have an opinion as to
what my diagnosis was. So we arrived to the next hospital, I got checked in and
had blood drawn so they could run more tests. We sat up at the hospital for 4.5
hours before I decided that it wasn’t worth it anymore they weren’t busy but
they certainly weren’t getting anyone seen. Nobody had been brought back in the
time that I had been there. We left the hospital, I was still in pain but it
was manageable. We stopped and got food. I got a salad with fruits, had to feed
the chicken to the dog.
The next day as I was driving to
my doctor’s appointment I dropped off at work to give them my note from the ER,
everyone was concerned about me. I gave my boss the note and he made sure I was
okay. I explained everything to him and left to go see the doctor. When I got
there he told me that it was exactly what I thought it was; a severely pulled muscle.
He gave me new medicines to take and sent me on my merry way. I called up to
work with the new diagnosis saying that he said I could work as long as I didn’t
over exert my muscle, however he did want me to be doing exercises to stretch it
out. I went to fill up my prescriptions and as I was waiting one of my bosses
called me asking if I could cover a shift for a coworker. I agreed having
missed the day before I wanted to make up the shift so that I could still receive
close to the same pay. I got to work and was placed on drive-thru so that I
wouldn’t have to move as much and was given a chair to sit in. However that
didn’t help as much as we wanted to, I had a new symptom setting in. I was
getting nauseous over every order handed out. I ran to the bathroom at least 6
times in my 3 hour shift to empty what little I had in my stomach. Finally I
was released from my shift. I got a salad to eat and kept it down for about 15
minutes. I left the store and went home; I took my medications and rested. We
were going to have a girl’s night with my roommate and one of our good friends.
I went and bought us a few drinks to enjoy that night while we played Cards
Against Humanity. Of course I never got that far. My roommate and I went to go
pick up our friend but when we got to the store I found myself having trouble
breathing again when I’d been fine not 10 minutes before. My mom lived just up the street so I had them
drop me off there so we could go to the hospital, I told them I would be home
soon because I anticipated doing so but I’ve figured out now my life doesn’t go
as I want it to. My mother saw the state I was in, finished the chart she was
working on and helped load me into the car. We drove to the hospital once
again.
I got checked into the hospital
on Thursday April 9th, 2015 at 00:20 am. I peed in a cup when I got
there again; I was led to my room and allowed to say in my street clothes. They
drew blood and started my IV up again; I was reintroduced to my best friend,
this amazing pain medicine that actually helped me. The doctor that I had seen
but earlier that was on duty as the ER doctor. The tests they ran the day
before they ran again that night. It took hours because this time they knew
something had to be severely wrong with me. I was sent back for 2 CT scans the
first time they viewed the upper portion of my chest, the second time they
viewed the middle portion of my chest. Bingo. After 3 hospital visits, a visit
to my primary care physician, and a week and a half of excruciating pain. The culprit
was found. However even though they had found it I hadn’t been told what it was
yet. I was still in the dark. Everyone was shocked, flabbergasted that someone
so young had a clot especially one as big as mine. They tried reexamining the
scans to see if there was any way that it could be something else; anything at
all. But alas it was true; I had a pulmonary embolism residing in my chest.
Around 3:50 I asked my mother if I could go to the bathroom. The nurse came in
and helped me across the hall as my mother stayed up at the nurses’ station
looking at my scan, as astounded as anyone else that this was happening but
this was her baby girl. She quickly called my father and told him as he was at
home asleep like any normal human would be. When I returned to my room my
mother joined me shortly, looking lost. She sat down beside me as she told me
the news. I fell apart. I was in the middle of texting my friend that was
staying with me. I told her the news. I was 21. I could have died. I had done
everything right in my life. I was the good child. I couldn’t do anything. I
was as helpless as I could be. I sat in my room waiting to be admitted to the
hospital, which faced issues in and of its self however I was finally admitted.
I was brought to my room,
changed, had a portable ecg machine attached to me, among a hundred other
things that happened—I was in a daze and I was sleepy, I don’t remember
everything that happened. My mom was in the room with me.
I spent my first night in the
hospital.
I will leave this journey here. I
will update again about the subsequent days in the hospital and of my doctors appointments,
of my life since being diagnosed, I will update with my doctor’s appointments
so that my journey can seem as real as it is. This blog will be regularly updated, not all posts will be as long as this
one, some may be longer. I want people to be informed for people to realize how
easy it is to miss the symptoms. Every time I went to the hospital we told them
I was on birth control because my mother and I both knew that it can cause
blood clots but still when the diagnosis came about it was a surprise to us
all.