Her health concerns are something I have known about from the beginning of our relationship. We’ve endured a few hospital visits, even some blood transfusions, and some iron infusions with the attendant allergic reactions.
Okay, let me back up for those not in the social media realm of things. Abigail Morehouse is my fiancé, and an amazing survivor. She is one of seven people in the world to be diagnosed with an intestinal bleeding disorder so rare it doesn’t even have a name, So every procedure they do on her is experimental, every treatment a gamble. You can go over to her blog here to see more details and the history.
Our relationship is young, nearing a year old, and things have been good for her health wise, but lately things have been a little more concerning.
Early Monday morning, Indie, my old dog, woke me up, and I thought he wanted to go outside. But he didn’t seem too enthusiastic about that. Twenty minutes later, I found out why he really wanted to wake me up. Abby called me from the other side of the bed.
Once she called my name a number of times, and I woke up, her voice shook.
“Something’s wrong,” she said. “I have to go to the bathroom, and I can’t get up. I ache so bad.”
I got her to her feet, and she was sobbing. “I can’t do it.”
She was right. Not even five steps later, she was on the ground. She was going to get sick, and so I rushed for the bathroom waste basket. Then I called 911. The paramedics came, and then the ambulance. They transported her, and
Her hematocrit and hemoglobin (numbers that indicate the amount of blood in your body) were 5 and 20, so far south of normal they were critical. It’s the worst I have ever seen her, and close to the worst she’s ever been.
It was a roller coaster. Two units of blood later, her numbers were not that much better, and she didn’t feel good either. She kept saying something was not right, but her numbers were just good enough that we thought we might go home.
Her body knew better, and so did she. Another blood draw told us: she had still been bleeding, and her numbers had dropped. She needed more blood. We were staying another night.
The roller coaster was real, emotions high and low. But the decision was the right one.
After a better night, the news was both good and bad. Her numbers were better, and this incident was at least stable.
But added to that was a doctor recommendation, that we go to Seattle in the next one to two weeks for another experimental surgery. We’re glad there might be some additional help that will make a difference. But the timing, financially with us planning for a wedding, Abby in her final semester at school, and with a new job?
We headed home. Abby was feeling better. Not perfect, but better.
Three days in the hospital. Stress does not trigger her symptoms, but it certainly doesn’t help anyone. We both missed three days of work, a blow to any budget. Not to mention the stress of just being behind.
So that’s where we’re at. Keep us in your thoughts. Thanks for everyone who has been so supportive in so many different ways. For those who want to know how they can help, once we know when we are going to Seattle, and for how long, I’ll post more information here.
Until then, again, thank you. We love and appreciate every one of you.
Troy is a freelance writer, author, and blogger who lives, works, and plays in Boise, Idaho with the love of his life and three very talented dogs.
Passionate about writing dark psychological thrillers, he is an avid cyclist, skier, hiker, all-around outdoorsman, and a terrible beginning golfer.