Ambulance Rides, ER Visits, and a Hospital Hotel Check-In
- Alisha (Kara’s Sis)
- Mar 10
- 5 min read
It’s been a whirlwind, to say the least. The week started rough and just kept getting worse. I’ve dreaded writing this because I don’t want to relive the trauma. But I also know my memory tends to erase things when my emotions are high. So here goes my best attempt...
Tuesday: The ER and First Signs of Trouble
We took Kara back to the DeWitt ER, feeling lost and helpless, hoping more IV fluids might get her over the hump. She started having episodes—blank stares, breath-holding, constant leg tremors. I’d remind her to yawn or cough, and it would stop. A scan confirmed nothing was stuck in her throat.
The doctor suspected Compazine toxicity and told us to stop it immediately. We increased her Lorazepam, gave her fluids, and were sent home. I hoped that was the turning point. It wasn’t.
Wednesday: Restlessness and Fear Set In
She was in the same state—maybe worse. I added Benadryl to her morning meds, hoping she’d relax. Instead, she became loopy and more restless than ever. She’d lay her head down and announce, “To the couch.” Thirty seconds later, “Recliner.” Then to the toilet. Then back to the Bed. Round and round we went. My Apple Watch said I walked over 2.5 miles inside the house just following her that day.
By evening, her episodes became more frequent and severe. Her body went rigid, hands and toes curled, her breathing became more strained. I massaged her face, her neck, tapped her forehead, pressed on her wrists and feet—nothing stopped it except bites of Pedialyte pops. That became my only intervention.
I stayed up all night because she kept gasping for air in her sleep. I have never been so scared.
Thursday: The Breaking Point
We took her to her oncologist. Four crushed Pedialyte pops got us through the drive. Dr. Aggarwal and his team witnessed multiple episodes and still believed Compazine was the culprit. But nearly 48 hours had passed, and the symptoms were worsening, not improving.
Back home, things spiraled fast. She would turn red, then purple during the episodes. We put an oximeter on her finger—her heart rate was 145. I called my sister, Michelle. We decided it was time to call 911.
Mom packed a bag while I called 911. When the paramedics arrived, I burst into tears and left the room. The visual of her in that state was too much.
Thursday Night: The ER Nightmare
She was transported to Clinton ER, where they ran more bloodwork and we had a virtual neurology consult.
They started with Cogentin and her leg tremors lessened. We weren't convinced she was having seizures because she could snap out of an episode with an ice chip. The longer we stayed, the more agitated she became.
Then the worst news—no beds available at Genesis East. We were stuck overnight in the windowless ER.
They inserted a catheter, gave her Valium to sedate her. I hated sedating her, but it was the only option. The only saving grace was her nurse, Samantha, a childhood friend of mine that I knew wouldn't let us down. She went above and beyond, bringing a real hospital bed, a recliner for Mom, shared her food with us.
Mom took the first shift. Dad relieved her at 3 a.m. I arrived at 5:30 a.m. to find out Kara had ripped her IV out. She's been known to do that and she's sneaky about it.
Friday: A 24-Hour Wait and another MRI
Genesis refused to take her until she had a brain MRI. That delayed our transfer by hours. But thank God, it was clear.
We hyped up "The Genesis Hotel," promising her a window, more space, visitors. But when I told her people would come see her, she didn’t perk up at all. That’s when I knew how deeply unwell she was.
Friday Night: Genesis East, Neurology/Onc Floor
I rode in the ambulance with her to Genesis East, and as we rolled down the neuro floor, alarms blared. I felt a mix of fear and relief.
We met Shauna, her nurse, who explained she’d be monitored by camera all night for seizures. Kara cried for Mom. Our arrival care felt inadequate after the medics dropped her off and Shauna left the room briefly - her IV wasn’t set up, no heart monitor, still having episodes. I called for a nurse. No one responded for what felt like an eternity but was likely only a few minutes.
Dr. Fayyaz came in. I took a deep breath, trying to explain everything we’d seen. He observed a couple of episodes and started Keppra (anti-seizure meds) as a precaution.
Mom and Dad arrived. She didn’t calm down. She just wanted out. We coach her through the EEG but not without a fight and many tears.
She was more irritable than I’ve ever seen. Our friend Lindsay came to visit—Kara mean-mugged her the entire time. Didn’t say hello, goodbye, nothing. It messed with my head.
Saturday: A Girl Unrecognizable
Saturday was long as we awaited a visit from the neuro doc. He came at 1:30 p.m. and the EEG showed no signs of seizure activity. This was great news but still, what did they think was causing the episodes?
He takes her off Keppra and Congentin and puts in the notes to start on clonazepam but when we ask the nurse for it that evening, he hadn't put the orders in. We are desperate for Kara to find some calm and agree to the only anti-anxiety meds they would give her... Lorazepam. We had tried it at home and had a really challenging time but I guess we could prove it to them.
She was up all night, irritable AF and continued hyper focusing on ripping every cord off her body.
Sunday: A Breakthrough?
Clonazepam. That morning we got to try it and it was the first time she looked relaxed in a week.
Dr. Fayyaz thinks the Compazine started this crazy week, the seizure meds worsened it, and now we were seeing psychological trauma. I don’t disagree, but I still worry something is being missed. He planned to discharge her after she had a follow up visit with neuro, and we just wanted her out.
We waited hours. She vomited from anxiety. We ran out of distractions.
I paced the halls trying to hunt down the neurologist. I begged our nurse, Ashley, to discharge us without waiting for another neuro consult. She pulled through with Dr. Fayyaz's blessing.
We got home Sunday night. Kara took Clonazepam and slept 12 hours.
Monday: Emotional Wreckage
She spent the entire day crying, anxious, regressing into childlike behavior. She kept calling for "Kiki"—a name she hasn’t called me in 20 years.
Tomorrow, she has bloodwork. She doesn’t know. We’re scared to tell her.
I’ll never understand why she is the one who has to endure this.
I don’t just see her suffering—I see Mom and Dad suffering, too.
It all just hurts in a way I didn’t think life could hurt.
I pray tomorrow is better.
Thanks for following along.
If You're New Here
Hi, I’m Alisha, Kara’s sister and biggest advocate. Kara was diagnosed with Stage 4 Triple-Negative Invasive Ductal Carcinoma (TNBC) in December 2024. Her cancer has spread to her bones, liver, and other areas, making this an incredibly difficult and uncertain journey.
Despite it all, Kara’s light still shines so brightly—she’s full of love, giggles, and endless positivity. This blog is where I share updates on her fight, the highs and lows, and the incredible community rallying around her.
Thank you for being here, for your love, support, and prayers. We need them more than ever. 💛 And of course, Go Hawks!
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