Abby got sick but we kept attributing the symptoms to other stuff, such as exhaustion, dehydration and her compromised body finding fresh ways to torment her. At one point she weakly mused, “What new indignity are you throwing at me?”
Fortunately, my FinCon16 presentation had been at 8:30 a.m. on the first day so I was able to spend most of the time in the room with her. Unfortunately, she and I missed most of the rest of the conference.
That’s not nearly as self-serving as it sounds. Both of us mourned the chance to attend educational sessions and to hang out with fellow money nerds. And obviously no one wants to be sick, especially so far away from home.
On Saturday we agreed to stay an extra day in San Diego, still believing she could regain her strength. By mid-afternoon Sunday she decided it was time to go to the emergency room.
Within a few hours a doctor was saying, “You have sepsis.” It likely stemmed from a urinary tract infection Abby thought had gone away. She was admitted that night and they let her go on Tuesday evening. (For her side of the story, see “Septic (but thin!)” on her website.)
By the time we got back to Phoenix on Wednesday evening we were both pretty flattened. The seven-hour trip wasn’t easy or comfortable for her, since she was still pretty darned sick. Being in her own bed helped, as did watching the puppy act completely adorkable.
Although I wasn’t ill* I had spent the past week in fight-or-flight mode, eating and sleeping relatively little, needing to make a lot of fast changes (including getting a cheaper hotel and moving all our stuff** there), encountering multiple snafus with regard to parking at the hotel, health insurance, nearly driving onto the naval base by mistake*** and picking up prescriptions.
Sticking around for a while
Also dealing with wicked flashbacks**** to her previous illness and hospitalization and massive anxiety. And did I mention how hot it’s been? While 103 degrees may feel temperate to a Phoenix resident, it’s plenty debilitating to a cooler-climes gal like me. (It was 29 degrees in Anchorage last night.)
I’m trying not to eat my feelings constantly (hint: two kinds of ice cream in the freezer) and also to focus on the positive. After a day or two of continuing queasiness and a “no thanks” attitude toward most food, Abby has been able to eat both good stuff (homemade chicken soup, various fruits) and some bad stuff (cherry-flavored Airheads, Jello).
She still looks pale and is noticeably weary after minor exertions. Then again, she could have died. So I think she’s still ahead on points.
I really miss DF and can’t wait to see him again. But I’ll linger a while longer, just in case. Somebody’s got to make that Jello.
*Would have traded places with her in a heartbeat, but we don’t get to choose.
**Two suitcases, a decent-sized makeup kit, two boxes of books, five bags of FinCon16 swag and a couple of bags of groceries.
***I was so tired I couldn’t think straight and misheard the military guard as saying, “You’re good to go” instead of what he actually said, “You can’t go.” When I started to drive forward he bellowed “STOP! YOU CAN’T GO ONTO THE BASE!” and grabbed the window frame of the driver’s-side door as though he could stop the car, Superman-like. Due to my history of being verbally and psychologically bullied, I shook for about an hour after the encounter. At least he didn’t pull a gun on me.
****Ah, PTSD – the gift that keeps on taking.