hoarding issues and the ER

Spoiler Alert: It starts with a sneeze and ends with a trip to the ER.

Every so often, I do a fabric cupboard tidy. I shift things away from their current stacks, piling them in a different way to look for inspiration. Typically I'm not a fabric hoarder; but I instantly recognized that I've amassed quite a bit of linen-blends and cotton canvas prints. Throughout the year, I convinced myself I was restocking. The truth is that I overstocked - LBHI.

There's a small group of crafty girls that I regularly chat with. I thought they'd like a light-hearted joke about my linen issues. I started typing. "LBHI ... Rarely fatal, it often leaves its victims fraught with feelings of guilt and anxiety."  I was about to hit return when I sneezed. 

... a sneeze so bad that my left ear rang out in pain. ....a sneeze of violent epic proportions. I'm certain I heard my jawbone pop. Dumbfounded by its intensity, my immediate reaction was to finish my linen-blend hoarding joke. Then I panicked.

It was quickly obvious that something was wrong. My lower jaw moved like a ventriloquist doll who had one side of their mouth fall of its socket. I couldn't smile and my face kept pulling to the left. I'm a reluctant doctor visitor. I usually give things a chance to heal on their own, but I knew this was bad.

I called Craig immediately home from work and searched our insurance plan. I put off seeing a doctor earlier this year for something else, and we still don't have a family doctor in Melbourne. Friends sent me recommendations months ago, but I couldn't find them. I wanted to go straight to the ER, but Craig thought the clinic would be faster. By now, I was slurring my speech and letting out agonizing shrieks.

We found a great clinic, but I quickly realized we should have come by when we were healthy. It took ten minutes of trying to explain that I had sneezed and my mouth had broke before the doctor understood. He thought I normally had a disability and kept relying on Craig to translate.

"This is unusual. I haven't seen this before from a sneeze" were his words.

His initial diagnosis was that the jaw was dislocated and he tried to manipulate it back into place, but things weren't improving. He gave me paperwork, called around to find out which ER had oral surgeons on duty and sent me off so I could get xrays and get it fixed.

By then, I was relying on pantomime and paper to communicate. As I slurred my words, I sounded like a drunk Irishwoman. Through triage, checking in and casual conversation - not a single person picked up my thick American accent. My inability to communicate properly was both frustrating and sad.

Again the doctors first thought my jaw was dislocated. We formulated a plan where they would put me under anesthesia and manipulate it into place. The emergency room was excited because people rarely sneeze their jaw out of place.

Only I hadn't. Although it was slightly out and my teeth were far out of alignment, the full jaw xray showed that jawbone was in place. For me, this was really frustrating as we had a plan. They were going to fix it, and then I was going to go home.

Like most, I'm not good with the unknown. Each time someone said the word 'unusual',  I thought I was a patient on House. I came in with a sneeze but was sure I was leaving with something sinister like the black plague. We waited and waited. Every so often my mouth ticked into the right position for a second, but then it creeped right off like a crazed dummy in a horror movie. Not quite sure if it was a torn muscle, a sprained muscle or palsy; the best course of action was to send me home with valium and see if I slept it off.

I didn't. Things felt worse in the morning. I was slurring more and the muscle control problems faintly spread to my eyelid. We were due to go back to the ER that morning for a follow-up, but Craig had an urgency about him. He didn't say it, but I know he was really upset that it hadn't improved. That scared me even more. That's when the ice pick pain started.

You know the joke about feeling like you're being stabbed repeatedly with an ice pick in your ear. That's what is happening to me. It isn't constant - that would be easier to tune out. It sneaks up on me at random moments.

After a bit more looking, prodding and testing, the doctors saw lesions in my ear. I've been diagnosed with Ramsay Hunt Syndrome. RHS occurs when the chicken pox virus (varicella zoster) reactivates along your cranial nerve. The symptoms are partial facial paralysis including lack of mouth control, the inability to close my eye fully and those delightful little lesions in my ear. RHS is a form of or complication of shingles. For me it is a strange mix of over-the-top pain in some areas and numbness in others. It makes eating, drinking and talking difficult. I suspect that's why this post is so long. I'm grateful to be able to communicate.

I went to the ER because I sneezed, but I'm told the sneeze was incidental. They've put me on a strong drug cocktail and I'll meet with a neurologist next week. Since we caught it early, the prognosis is very good. I'm told things will get worse before they get better, but I may see improvement in a few weeks. Badskirt may be a bit quiet while I was recover. My urge to sew is outweighed by my urge to sleep.

In the meantime, I encourage you to check your fabric stashes... you never know when a bit of excessive linen hoarding might land you in the hospital.