Red Electrical Outlet

“Do you know what the orange electrical outlet stands for?”

“I have no idea…though that looks more red than orange, don’t you think?” I replied to my husband as we sat in the doctor’s office waiting on the results of my latest labs.

“There’s a red switch too. Let’s find out,” he said, already pulling out his phone to Google it.

Labs again. I’d just had blood drawn two nights ago in the ER. My poor right arm—pricked one too many times this week. Still, it’s strong. It can handle needles. I’m continually amazed by how much information can be pulled from a few small vials of blood.

Sodium. White blood cell count. Anion gap. Terms I’m quickly becoming familiar with. On MyChart dashboards, I’ve turned it into a game—trying to land each number back in the normal range.

Sodium’s been low. I need more salt. Perfect. A bag of popcorn for later tonight.

You’re probably wondering how I ended up in the ER. Right…yes…. I was getting to that.

After my late evening journal entry, I couldn’t stop shivering. My temperature kept climbing. I’d been told to notify the on-call oncologist if I developed a fever of 100.4 after infusion. It reached 101.7. I called. They asked me to come in and get checked.

I’m glad I did. I felt awful.

The ER lobby was packed. I checked in, explained I’d had my first infusion, that my body ached, my throat was sore, I was shivering, and I felt unwell.

Test after test. They discovered I had tonsillitis.

“Was it caused by the infusion?” I asked.

Hard to say, they told me, but unlikely. More likely something lingering that fully flared up. It’s difficult to pinpoint.

They started antibiotics, gave fever reducers, ran a CT scan, throat swab, nasal swab, and more tests. Slowly, I came back to life. Eventually, they discharged me in the wee hours of the morning.

We walked out past a waiting room still full of people hoping to be seen.

Yesterday became a day of rest—focused on recovery, on feeling better. One nap followed another until sunset. I did manage to get out for my 45-minute walk, though it was hard. I’m proud of that one. After all, isn’t it when you feel the worst that training matters most?

“I found it,” my husband said at last.
“Red electrical outlets mean they’re connected to backup generators.”