This only began around the end of May. Sort of. It’s only happened three times so far, but the latest on was the worst.
My legs have been going into random bouts of giving out on me without warning. Becoming wet noodles that can’t feel anything from the mid-thigh down. The first two instances lasted about twenty minutes at most and I was able to feel them sort of “wake up” and I was able to move a little after that.
The latest instance, however, landed me in the hospital overnight. I was taking a shower at the time and my father had to lift me out and then take me into my room. My sister had to help me dress. My mother poked me with a needle to try to see if I could feel anything. I couldn’t until she started poking at my upper thigh. Honestly, I laid there on my bed and wondered if she was too nervous to start poking at me until I felt it poke me. She then told me she had already gone up my leg. Then, when my boyfriend came home, we had a discussion and he and my father carried me out to the van (very awkwardly) and my mother brought me to the ER about a town over. I wasn’t about to let the band-aid station in my town even look at me.
There, the same sort of test was done to see if I had feeling. After an hour drive there and two hours fighting back and forth whether I should go or wait until morning, I still had no feeling. After an hour in the ER, I had my blood taken and a doctor came in and told me that I couldn’t go home because they didn’t have the right people to deal with me on staff then.
I was then prepped and carted upstairs, all the while crying and panicking. I was desperate. I wanted to go home, and it was already past midnight. If I just forced my legs to move. By the time I was put in my room, I was hysterical.
I am very controlling, especially when it comes to my own body (as I think everyone should be.) The fact that I couldn’t command my own legs was killing me. What if they never got feeling back? What if I ended up in a wheelchair? What if it was something serious to add on to all the other stress I was going through already? All of these questions and far more bounced in my head as I attempted a tear-soaked bargain with my mother that I –could– do it, I could –make– them work and I could go home.
I didn’t sleep the whole night. Partially because of my panic, and partially because the nurse apparently didn’t put in my catheter right and it felt like it was ripping me to shreds later.
My sister, who worked at the hospital as an RT (NEVER call a RT a nurse if you want to live!!!) described the nurse as stupid and ill-of-hearing. I got that vibe from her after the fourth call demanding someone come check it out over the span of a very painful hour. Some pains just should not be inflicted at certain parts of your body- especially virgin parts.
Finally, after nine hours, (that’s right, NINE HOURS) I was starting to feel that pins-and-needles static feeling of my legs “waking up.” Thankfully the stupid nurse was in not long after and she poked at my legs and I felt relief to feel her boney fingers digging into my flesh. I felt it! Finally!
Not long after, I was able to bend my legs and I began forcing them to move, despite the pain. Just like if my legs had gone to sleep for an excessive amount of time. I almost laughed through my pain. Soon, I convinced the idiot to remove the catheter, but she refused to let me attempt to move.
But, seeing as I was getting a cramp in my butt and desperately wanted my panties back on, I expertly stood on my knees and put them on from the bed. Later, my new nurse that I practically cheered for when she came in, checked on me and brought in the best hospitalist I have ever seen. He was amazing. If he had his own family practice, I would leave my current primary in a red-hot second! He made sure everything was in order, talked to me and asked and answered questions for over half an hour, and even popped in when he remembered something and came in to ask again. He then made an entire list of what I should do next so I didn’t have to remember. He was awesome.
Everyone called him Dr. A, apparently because they couldn’t pronounce his last name at a glance.
He told me to get an appointment with a neurologist asap and to go through a few other tests such as a full thyroid test and a nerve test. He left no blanks and answered all my questions. I left feeling as though I might figure this out sooner than my other issues.
However, I forgot to put my primary into the equation. My primary is a very sweet man, but he’s obviously burnt out. I have to take the reigns and demand what to do next because now, if he can’t throw a Z-pak at it, he panics.
I spent my weekend checking out new doctors for once this is all sorted out and taken care of. Now, I am fighting to find a neurologist that doesn’t have a wait until November, and have to call my primary’s office to keep hounding them until I get it.
I will continue to update, but until then!