I did it. I made it there. I survived. These are three of the things that I was convinced my medical anxiety was going to stop me from doing. Luckily, that was not the case and my poor, sweet, loving husband managed to get me to and from my liver biopsy today. Let me just tell y’all… I was an absolute wreck. Emotionally, I just could not pull it together this morning. I wanted to cancel this appointment so bad that I was in tears over it, but my husband did what he was supposed to and got me there. He literally held my hand until I was sedated for the procedure and never left my side until he got me home. He’s my Rockstar and I am eternally grateful to him for being there for me today.
For me, the prepping part of the procedure was the worst. I have bad veins due to Raynaud’s disease, which causes my hands to lose all blood, so my veins like to constrict and reduce the blood flow. The first gal tried each arm and could not get an IV started to save my life. I got really queasy and she backed off and sent for the vascular team to come down with their fancy ultrasound machine that can show them the best veins. He found them quickly, injected me with Lidocaine and got that IV started in less than two minutes. So say that I was impressed with him would be the understatement of the century. He was amazing – not just in his phlebotomy skills but also with his bedside manner. He made a very difficult procedure a little easier on me.
By the time we got to the actual biopsy, I was out like a light. I remember nothing past them having to give me extra sleeping medications (three times), and then waking up and it was all over. They made me stay laying on my side for an hour, then they monitored me for another two or three hours to make sure that there was no internal bleeding. By the time they let me leave I was beyond ready to go. I felt like I had been beat with an ugly stick. If I never have to do another liver biopsy, it will be too soon.
The emotional effects are far worse for me now that I am home. When I go under actual anesthesia, my Bipolar mood swings fly out of control. I figured that was only because of the particular drug that they use, Propofol. Well, today they used a combination of a medication for anxiety and pain medication. Apparently, I have the same unwanted side effects from this combination as well. So, I’m sitting in my bed crying, feeling very depressed and overly emotional, which happens to be a very scary combination in the Bipolar patient – me.
Oh… and did I mention the pain? From the looks the markings left on me, they seem to have gone right between two of my ribs. It feels like they did, too, but I have no idea to be honest. I’m bruised up on my bottom two ribs and can hardly raise my right arm. I’m afraid to see what tomorrow will bring. Pain is always worse the next day when the pain medication has worn off. Pray for me y’all! Your girl is really going through it these days!
Stay strong autoimmune warriors, friends and family. Love and light now and always!