Pigs Fly Part 1

January 2, 2011, was a snow-bright, cold day in Lynnwood. Seven years before that, another January 2, another bright day with new snow dawned, white sparkling on Capitol Hill against an unbelievably blue sky. I glimpsed this from the gurney as they moved me into the ambulance taking me form one hospital to another.
In 2003 I turned 40. The Kidlet turned seven, went into second grade with a teacher she loved, and continued to be the wonderful girl who brightened every day. My supervisor moved into a bigger job, leaving our unit "leaderless" – a void that I was lucky enough to fill by splitting it with a great colleague, E---. She is brilliant, funny and smart, everything you need when taking over a very busy unit mid-year. I loved going to work every day. In the fall we were both promoted. Everything was going well, or at least normal. I was still with my Should've Been Ex (SBX), and should have indeed left by this time, since her abuse had already started, but aside from that life was perfect. Except that I had turned 40 and, for the first time I can remember, I felt my age. Or even older. I was exhausted.
Friends suggested it was maybe a sinus infection. Without any congestion, though, or headaches, I waited, thinking it was merely stress. In December I went to the doctor. My regular doc was out; I saw a physician's assistant. She also thought it was a sinus infection. I had never had one, but everyone who had told me that it was the most exhausting thing ever. We discussed drug allergies, which I had never had, though my sister had quite a few, and she prescribed Bactrim, an antibiotic with Sulfa that is often used to treat sinus infections. One of the few drugs my sister can take.
By Christmas I was even more exhausted. I kept taking the meds, trained to always 1) finish the run of antibiotics and 2) realize that infection are frequently worse just before they turn better.
This one did not. On the 30^th we went to dinner at a friend's house. I was tired and did not want to go – I just wanted to curl up and sleep. SBX was unswerving; I was going. After an argument, I went. After two sips of a hot rum toddy, and feeling like I was going to pass out, I left for home. The husband, hugging me goodnight, noted that I was "burning up". He would drive the Kidlet and the SBX home later. I vaguely remember them returning. On the 31^st, the fever was still there. I knew the meds were not working – how could they be? I had a new insurance plan that kicked in on the 1^st, and decided to wait until then. I stopped taking the meds, but there was only one pill left.
I slept most of the 1^st. I had bought ham and fixings for a New Year's dinner, but was not up to making it. Neither was SBX – she took the kidlet to McDonalds. I called the on-call service and they told me to get to the ER because of the fever.
I knew this would cause a fight, but I also felt so bad at that point that I was ready to take a cab if I needed to. I assumed that I must have pneumonia. I had been too weak to help the kidlet with Legos – I couldn't snap them together. When SBX returned, she did not want to take me to the ER, and the predicted fight ensued, except that I was too tired, really, to defend myself. I just started to call a taxi. She relented and drove me to the ER.
Given the fever, and that it was 2004, the ER staff feared SARS and repeatedly asked if I had been to Asia or Toronto. The lung x-ray was clear, the exam clear, except for one "lesion" the resident found on my throat. Unsure of the diagnosis, they checked me into isolation and called the infectious disease expert, who would be in on the morning of the 2^nd. As they wheeled me to my room, I saw snowflakes swirling in the light outside. I told SBX to get the Kidlet home, before it got too slick outside.
The mask made me feel even hotter, so I took it off whenever someone was not in the room with me. I didn't think this was infectious. The nurse came in with Jell-O – the first food I had had since breakfast. The cool cubes felt wonderful on my now sore throat. At some point in the night, I woke up with incredible pain in one eye. The ophthalmologist came by in the morning, about the same time as the infectious disease doctor (Dr. ID) and the very tired resident. By then both eyes hurt – I had corneal tears. The Dr. ID took one look at me and asked what the medication was. When I said Bactrim he nodded, diagnosing it as Stevens - Johnson syndrome. Since I had never heard of this, it didn't help me much, but the resident looked really worried. They decided to send me to Harborview, a hospital ten blocks from where I was, and explained what was going on. I still had the fever, over 103, and could not hold onto much information aside from the name, the fact that it was a reaction to the sulfa in Bactrim, that this reaction was genetic so my daughter should never, ever be given sulfa and the fact that I was going to Harborview. Soon. But could they take pictures first to help other residents diagnose this? The snow outside was too bright to look at, the room lights too bright, and the fever too high. I closed my eyes and waited for the ambulance.