Food poisoning

I’ve been severely ill before- - once to the point every fluid in my body felt as if it was gone.

I was wrapped in a blanket stretched out on my mother’s couch, it was now hour 12. Vomiting and the runs, I couldn’t keep anything in me. I could feel my cognitive functions slipping by the late hour, but I was still there trapped inside a body crashing.
I remember the panicked voice of my Mom as my brothers discussed what to do, “should we call an ambulance?” Or “maybe the nurses hotline...?”
At this point in time we didn’t know I had gallbladder issues, brought about by rapid weight loss from training or from the birth control pills my doctor had prescribed (Yaz).

Usually when this ill I would crash on my Mom’s bed nursing pepto or gravel. That year, I had cut gluten and dairy of my diet in desperate effort to find the cause of these many painful episodes. We discovered that lactose was a filler in many prescribed medications and over the counter meds, including gravol...so taking that during this episode was not an option.

We had tried pepto earlier, but that only resulted in my vomit turning a lovely shade baby pink. On first inspection by an outside observer they might surmise I enjoy borscht...the kind my elementary school made.

I remember laying there wrapped up panicked....wondering if they would know what to do if I progressed to unconsciousness. Dad would have known what to do, but this was 10yrs later and he wasn’t here to assist.
I could barely speak to the nurse they had called and I listened to her questions.
What had you ate?
What was the last thing you remember eating?
Was I the only one sick?

It continued.
Recommendation, if it continues for the next hour I was to be taken to the hospital.

What had triggered this episode of illness? My brother had made lasagna for our Brother’s birthday dinner the night before. The fat content of the meal triggered a gallbladder episode so severe I was dehydrated from my body trying to expel anything and everything that was in me.

On recommendation Mom gave me ice chips that moisten my mouth and warmed before I swallowed. It was important not to swallow cold water, as the stomach was so sensitive and raw-that cold would only shock it into vomiting more.

Slowly I was able to keep water down. I don’t remember the rest of the night after that call. I did believe that I may pass into a coma, as I knew what my body was doing in response was not normal. Sudden onset and rapidly worsening.

It took a full two weeks to recover from that episode, and slowly more things were removed from my list of foods I can safely eat. To this day I hate the sight and smell of lasagna.

It would be a few more months before I had another episode triggered by undiagnosed gallstones.
This was brought on by meatballs and spaghetti.
Yes I know, but I was coerced into eating as it was leg day with my trainer the following day.

By this point the episodes were more frequent and weaning that I often had to cancel and reschedule my appointments with my trainer. She would message me the most emphatic messages or calls, and we’d chat.
She saw how nutrient weak I was becoming month after month, how I would come in fatigued and drained.
No energy. She understood something was going on and knew of the appointments and tests to find out the cause. She tracked what I ate and monitored what to suggest, as she feared her suggestions would trigger an episode.

That Wednesday I was forced to go in, yelled at and told I was embarrassing them to our trainer.
I was dropped off, near tears in pain and fatigue.
I met my trainer and she sat me down, asked me why I had come in, pleaded with me to go home and rest.

I said I can’t. So slowly I trained, staring at my leg on the curl machine, till finally I got up and escaped to the bathroom.
On one side wanting to vomit and the other needing a toilet.
My head began to throb and a sharp pain on my left side shoulder blade jabbed through the joint.
The pain grew down to my abdomen and radiated. I couldn’t slouch as it made the pain in shoulder worse and I could sit up straight as it made that pain worse.

I called my brother to no answer and called my mom crying.
My trainer too had come to check on me, and heard the sobs from the stale. She called my Mom too, and five minutes later she arrived.
My trainer helped me downstairs to meet her.

I would find out later, once I was diagnosed with gallstones, that a workout of that nature could have caused sepsis....resulting in death.

Fast forward another month of discussions with the doctor I had, of request after request to see a specialist were denied. Request after request of having a blood panel done denied. I waited patiently for an episode, and I self soothes myself to a walk in clinic and request a blood test.

I remember walking from my home to my car, hand across my stomach as if it were some protective barrier.
Talked myself through a mental checklist of what steps had to be done to get there. A small attempt to stave off a panic attack.
I had grown up, that anytime I was sick a relative would tell me I’m faking it. Just after attention. Or worse of all “it’s all in your head”

I could I be vomiting blood and still be told I’m faking it for attention. So I grew up learning to self care any illnesses. Mom and Dad often busy with work commitments would know when they saw me something was wrong, and would intervene.

But now as an adult, I was still being told there was nothing wrong with me by this person and this new doctor agreed.

So at the clinic in pain, I requested blood work.
On everything and anything.

That’s where I had failed before, I had gone in and requested a blood test when I was healthy. Which showed nothing on the panel.

Now, in the midst of the illness, I was retested.

I was called the next day to come in, they had the results.

Do you smoke? No
Do you drink? Once a year, my mom confirmed. At this point in time I only drank on my Best Friends birthday.
Do you have unprotected sex? No.

Of course by now my heart is racing and my brain scrambled to figure out what those three have in common, and in common with the symptoms.

Stomach, liver, pancreas.....what do those three have in common to the questions?

My liver enzymes we severely elevated, that they were trying to rule out Hepatitis or alcoholism.

My liver was not functioning properly.

I was sent for more bloodwork.

By time the results of the second test came in, I was parked at the ferry terminal leaving for the weekend with my mom and brother, and his godchildren.

The nurse was empathetic when she called and said it’s not down and we needed to make an appointment for Monday.

We chatted, and said if it isn’t what they thought it was originally and you don’t have to come in now...I was to enjoy my weekend.
I half heartedly asked “how?”
She responded “I know.”

Away we went to do whale watching.

I remember being in bed that weekend, laying in it till my body finally fell asleep. I wanted to cry, I wanted to blame someone, but most of all I wanted answers.
I wanted to know what was wrong.
When I had a moment to my thoughts, back to wanting to know what was wrong, I’d catch out the corner of my eye Mom watching me with a look of sadness and concern.

After all she had seen me during the worst of episodes, held my hand as I tried to breath through the pain. Held me as I was too fatigued but couldn’t leave the washroom. Cooled my head as I mumbled in panic and exhaustion.
She was helpless to fix.

When Monday came, I presented a name and asked for a referral to this specialist in Vancouver.
This doctor had the best medical reviews, but also had negative reviews to his bedside manner.
He was who I wanted.

I didn’t care if he said hello or goodbye, or even that he didn’t want to engage in pleasant conversation about this or that.

I met with his resident, and we went through medical history.
I have asthma, Polycystic ovarian syndrome, severe anxiety, and depression.

Asked where the pain started and what the symptoms were once it began. It took less then ten minutes the questions.
He said thank you and he’ll be right back.
After two he returned with the specialist.

He wore a suit, no tie, buttoned shirt but not at collar, and stood very still with his hands closed and to his chest.
His mannerisms were only used to emphasis or to direct.

He said “after reviewing your file and description I suspect you have gallstones. We are going to send you for more tests and will be setting up more testing to confirm.”

I was dumbfounded.
I asked how he concluded that, curiosity had me.

From his explanation that it was due to where I had said the pain began from. That each episode started in the same place. That place wasn’t my abdomen, but my shoulder. Left or right, it didn’t matter.

I was sent for an ultrasound that day, sent home with a new blood paperwork, and arrangements were being made for an endoscopy at UBC.

By this point, I was six years into the Illness that it could only get worse as it had been doing.

Ultrasound confirmed, endoscopy confirmed, blood work confirmed. I was scheduled for gallbladder removal. I had 5-7mm stones trying to pass a 4 mm tube.

I was relieved.
Now that we knew what it was, I was told story after story from everywhere by everyone of how they knew someone who had it or went through it. Everyone seemed to have a story.
The two people who had told me it was in my head or to get over it, switched to false sympathy.

Surgery came and went.

And I moved on, not forgiving those who had told me I was faking it or that it was in my head. One of them was called the community health rep.

This last Monday, I had pain that was reminiscent of those painful early days.
I was laying down, and the pain started, I’d roll over and the pain would subside then begin again.

It had all started less than hr after eating that day and lasted till the next day.
I was burping acid, and later vomiting.
I was curled up on my bed in the fetal position cramping. I breathed through the worst pain.
My mother had ate with me, but she was not ill thankfully. I had asked her if a certain food we both ate was cold for her, she said no. By 3 am the worse had passed, and I passed out.

I’m still dealing with the effects of it.
But I am completely thankful that it’s not as bad as gallstones or as bad as it could have been.