It’s funny how things can completely change in a few minutes, hours, days, and in my case, a week. My last post was a *life update post and here I am writing yet another one. Most of you reading this I can assume are either family or friends. If so, you might know of my recent hospitalization.
Last week on Tuesday, June 13th 2017 it was another normal day, wake up, get ready for work, hop on the bus, subway, eat breakfast, normal stuff before starting a day at work in the city. Throughout the day I didn’t feel quite right. I had been nauseous all day and it was progressively getting worse. I didn’t think much of it, kind of just hoped I would feel better, had a light lunch and drank more water. Well, I didn’t feel better, I got worse, then vomited everything inside of me at work. I left work headed to the closest Urgent Care not knowing why I just vomited and why I’ve been nauseous all day (I knew I wasn’t prego!). The doctor at the Urgent Care examined me and told me her medical recommendation was to go to the hospital because she thought I had appendicitis.
I hesitated for a bit on actually going to the hospital. I thought to myself “Great, another Urgent Care genius diagnosing me with appendicitis and I’m not even in pain.” I figured maybe I could just go home and get some rest and I’d feel better the next day. I went with my gut feeling and listened to James and took an Uber to the hospital. Before I knew it, nurses were taking my temperature, poking me, taking blood, and more. I waited in the ER for 5 hours to finally get my CT scan and then another 2 hours for the results.
Turns out I had an infection in my colon/small intestine, they were inflamed, white blood cell count was up, liver was enlarged with elevated enzymes, slight UTI, and to top it off my sugar/triglycerides were up. Yet the only symptom I had was nauseousness and a tender abdomen after the doctor at the Urgent Care had given me a pelvic exam. To say I was kind of messed up is an understatement. They kept me for observation, pumped me with fluids, antibiotics, took lots of blood from me, and barely got any sleep in the process. OH, not to mention I was completely alone in the process. I was SO overwhelmed with all the information and medical terms being thrown my way. Just look at my face.
My family was also stressed out being so far away and not being able to do anything from Florida. I told everyone not to worry, I was being strong, I could handle it, it’s cool. It wasn’t cool. I finally gave in and asked James to please come up early, I needed him. I finally got to go home on Thursday, June 15th around 7pm, with James in hand, thank god. The doctor’s released me because my liver enzymes had gone down and I had been feeling better overall. I now need to follow up with numerous doctors and get results back, but I’m glad I listened to my gut instinct and went to the hospital.
So what does this have anything to do with me moving back to FL? Well, the doctors made it clear that while many of these things could have been going on underneath the surface without me knowing, STRESS brought it to the surface. Yes, moving was stressful, starting a new job, navigating new states, the most AMAZING city, making friends, and more. However, my day to day life continued to be stressful mostly because of my job. It’s funny because after college I told myself I’d never go into sales and this is exactly what I was doing for work. It just wasn’t for me.
Ultimately, this was the hardest decision I’ve had to make in a while. Being away from family and James with these medical concerns, the last thing I’d ever want is to be hospitalized alone again. Making my health a priority I decided to resign from my job and move back home to Florida. Maybe this wasn’t the right time or it’s just one of those things that you think, “Everything happens for a reason.” I’m not ashamed of writing this and telling the world. It’s actually pretty therapeutic. I moved. I tried. I got sick and I’m following my heart and going back home.
If I’ve learned anything from this at all, it’s that I honestly have the best family and friends around. The amount of support I’ve received has been amazing, especially from James. He’s really drilled the “Don’t give a fuck about what people think of you.” mentality and inspired me to write this post and set myself free.
To end this long story, the moral of my story I’d like to convey is to ALWAYS follow your dreams, but listen to your gut. You won’t regret it.