📖 A Quick Note Before We Begin
As I sit here dictating this diary entry, I can’t help but laugh a little. Apparently, even after having surgery to remove a power port that lived in my chest for more than a decade, my body still managed to find a way to create additional drama.
Because why would anything ever be simple?
At this point, I am seriously considering starting a hospital wristband collection.
I’m not entirely sure whether I should display them in a scrapbook, frame them as artwork, or simply string them together as evidence that my body and I have been on quite the adventure over the years.
Either way, my collection continues to grow.
If you’ve been following my diary, you know that I recently had my power port removed after more than ten years. While the procedure itself went smoothly, two days later, I unexpectedly found myself sitting in the emergency room at UCLA Medical Center.
Ironically, my trip to the ER had absolutely nothing to do with the port removal itself.
Instead, it involved my left hand—the same hand where the surgical IV had been placed.
💭 When Something Doesn’t Feel Right
Anyone who knows me understands that years of Crohn’s Disease, Myasthenia Gravis, countless procedures, surgeries, infusions, IV placements, and more needles than I care to count have given me a fairly high threshold for pain.
Years of chronic illness have also taught me the difference between discomfort and something that deserves immediate attention.
So when I voluntarily decide to go to the emergency room, understand that things have reached a level that even I can no longer ignore.
A day or so after surgery, I noticed that my hand, fingers, and thumb had started swelling. At first, I convinced myself it was normal. Surely it would improve on its own.
It didn’t.
The swelling continued. The pain intensified. Before long, even simple movements became uncomfortable.
Naturally, I did what many of us do when something strange happens.
I consulted my favorite physician: Dr. Google.
According to my extensive internet medical degree, swelling after an IV can occur for several reasons, including inflammation, infiltration, or restricted blood flow. Dr. Google recommended elevation, compresses, and monitoring for worsening symptoms.
Given that the swelling developed in the same hand where my IV had been placed, I assumed the two were related.
I elevated my hand.
I applied compresses.
I attempted to be patient.
Unfortunately, my thumb seemed determined to ignore all of my efforts.
As the swelling and pain continued to worsen, I finally admitted that this was no longer something I should attempt to manage at home.
I truly knew I needed to go to the emergency room when bathing became even more difficult than it normally is.
Living with chronic illness means that showering or bathing can already feel like an Olympic event on some days. Add severe hand pain, swelling, and limited mobility to the mix, and things quickly become significantly more complicated.
Imagine trying to bathe while simultaneously struggling to breathe and barely being able to use one of your hands.
At that point, even I had to admit this situation required someone with an actual medical degree.
Off to the emergency room I went.
🏥 Welcome Back to the ER
As if my thumb wasn’t providing enough excitement, I also arrived at the ER experiencing shortness of breath and tightness in my chest. Given my history of MuSK-positive Myasthenia Gravis, breathing issues are never something I take lightly.
After being admitted, the attending physician examined my hand and, true to form, the mystery deepened.
According to the doctor, the IV likely was not the cause.
She explained that while she commonly sees similar symptoms in people who bite their nails, she could clearly tell that wasn’t the case for me. She also explained that a blood clot was unlikely because clots typically do not form in the area where my swelling was occurring.
What she did know was that my hand was definitely inflamed.
Clearly, my body had decided to keep everyone guessing.
The physician explained that she wanted to obtain X-rays of my hand, prescribe antibiotics, and treat my pain.
💉 Cue the Waterworks
Shortly afterward, the nurse returned and informed me that she would be giving me a Toradol injection for the pain and placing a splint on my thumb.
The Toradol injection burned, but it was manageable.
The splint, however?
Cue the waterworks.
At that moment, Cry Me a River by Justin Timberlake became the unofficial soundtrack to my ER visit because the tears were flowing.
The pain was absolutely unbearable.
Suddenly, I found myself calling upon sweet baby Jesus in the manger and every other heavenly being willing to listen.
Apparently, my pain threshold had officially met its match.
Fortunately for me—and perhaps for everyone within earshot—the nurse had to stop midway through applying the splint because she realized I still needed X-rays.
📸 Five X-Rays Later…
Enter the X-ray technician.
He arrived to take me to radiology and was greeted by a grown woman sitting in the ER with tears streaming down her face. In true Kia fashion, I looked at him and said, “We’re just back here having a little fun.”
He laughed and asked me to follow him.
As we entered the X-ray room, he apologized and explained that he would need to remove the partially applied splint.
I briefly considered negotiating with him, but seeing as he was the one holding the X-ray machine hostage, I reluctantly agreed.
After five X-rays, I found myself back in the ER waiting area, once again waiting for the nurse and doctor to return with answers.
Because apparently, the theme of this entire experience was, “Please proceed to the next waiting area.”
🩺 More Questions Than Answers
A short time later, the doctor returned with the X-ray results.
The good news?
The X-rays looked normal.
The less reassuring news?
We still didn’t have a definitive answer.
The doctor explained that despite the significant swelling, inflammation, and pain, nothing concerning appeared on the X-rays. However, given the severity of my symptoms, she recommended that I follow up with a hand orthopedic specialist the very next day to determine whether additional treatment—or even surgery to drain my thumb—might be necessary.
I was ultimately diagnosed with inflammation of the thumb joint and discharged with antibiotics and pain medication. The discharge paperwork also included information regarding infectious tenosynovitis, an infection involving the tendon and surrounding sheath in the hand or fingers.
Before being discharged, the nurse returned one final time to reapply the splint.
Thankfully, the second attempt was nowhere near as painful as the first.
Don’t get me wrong—it still hurt.
A lot.
But this time there were significantly fewer tears, fewer conversations with sweet baby Jesus in the manger, and considerably less concern that everyone in the emergency department was about to witness my full spiritual awakening.
At that point, I considered it progress.
One interesting and completely unexpected observation: after receiving the Toradol injection, I noticed that the tightness in my chest and shortness of breath I had been experiencing when I arrived had significantly improved.
Whether that was related to inflammation, pain relief, or simply the medication doing its job, I honestly don’t know. What I do know is that breathing easier was an unexpected but very welcome bonus.
💜 Final Thoughts
I left the ER grateful that nothing immediately alarming had shown up on the X-rays, but frustrated that I still didn’t fully understand what was happening.
I also left with a splint, antibiotics, pain medication, instructions to follow up with orthopedics, and the realization that my thumb had apparently decided to stage its own medical rebellion.
Because if there is one thing life with chronic illness has taught me, it’s that sometimes the answer is simply, “We’re not entirely sure yet.”
Living with chronic illness often means learning to live in the space between symptoms and answers. Sometimes that uncertainty can be just as exhausting as the symptoms themselves.
This experience reinforced an important lesson: trust yourself.
You know your body better than anyone else.
While Dr. Google can provide helpful information, there comes a point when an actual physician needs to enter the chat.
Thankfully, I trusted my instincts and sought care when something didn’t feel right.
Because when you live with chronic illness, it is always better to be evaluated and discover it was nothing serious than to ignore something important.
Have you ever experienced unexpected complications from something that was supposed to be routine? I’d love to hear your experiences in the comments.
Thank you for taking the time to read this entry from The Dual Diagnosis Diaries. Whether you are living with chronic illness, supporting someone who is, or simply learning more about these conditions, thank you for being part of this community. My hope is that by sharing my experiences openly and honestly, others will feel less alone in their own journeys.
Founder • Author • Advocate • Future Wellness Coach
Kia Lorice
The Dual Diagnosis Diaries 💜
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