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Thursday, January 08, 2009

It's like a vacation... in hell.


Sooo, I apparently attract stupidity. I mean, look at 90% of the men I've dated. EH. I'll start from the beginning because I have to assume that if you're reading this, you're bored. Let me help you kill some time.

I awoke yesterday to a mild pain in my right side. No big. I barely noticed it. But as the day progressed, so did then pain. On the lower right side of my abdomen. So I start thinking, "Oh shit, my appendix is going to burst and I'm going to die". So when Scott gets home from work, we left the boys with my mom and went to CareNow.

...

An hour and a half later we came home minus $50 and absolutely no answer as to what was wrong with me. Oh, no, wait... I believe they said that I MIGHT have appendicitis and to go home and if it got worse to go to the hospital and if it didn't, to come back in the morning. Seriously? Tell me nothing and expect me to come back and blow another $50?! Um, no. Especially when they flat-out told me they couldn't diagnose anything because they couldn't do a catscan. Foolishness. So I went home and went to bed. Scott went downstairs with the baby... I'd like to think he did so in order to grant me sleep. However, the dager in my side didn't let me sleep. I tossed and turned and cringed and gasped in pain all night. When the alarm went off at 6:30 this morning, I got up and got myself ready after waking Trenton up. We were going to the hospital.

I didn't expect to be there more than a couple hours. Honestly, I just wanted to rule out the appendicitis thing. I expected to be checked out or in surgery by noon. Sooo, since Carter had his 2 month check up today and our pediatrician's office is literaly connected via airbridge to Medical Center of Plano, we went there. Thinking we could breeze over to the 11:30am appointment after being released from the hospital.

It's almost 9pm and I am still here. And will be... maybe for a few days.

So anyway, all looked promising when we got here. My physician's assistant was funny and cool and chatted for a bit with us giving me hope that it'd be a short visit. That was first thing. Things went steadily downhill from there.

My nurse in the ER was 90. I could have passed out when she came at me with shaking hands trying to put in my IV. But alas, if I'd done that, I may have fallen on and broken her thin and fraile body and we'd both be screwed. Ugg. After a long while of just sitting in the most uninviting hospital room ever, my nurse, the grimm reapers wife, came back with the "contrast" I had to drink before my catscan. 24 ounces of liquid to be finish in 30 minutes. OMG. Really?! Then I tasted it. Imagine if you left a soda in the car, during the summer, for a month. And then a cat peed in it. And then the devil laid some unholy curse on it. It was horrible. Horrible. ::Shudders:: Alas, I did pretty well. Finished all but and ounce and a half. Scott, meanwhile, had flitted over to Dr. Katz's office for Carter's appointment. Already, this was taking longer than planned.

After finishing my tasty death beverage, I had to wait another hour before being take for my catscan. More sitting. I didn't even have a book to read. Just a tiny tv with shitty reception and volume that didn't go above a whisper. Which is really exciting if you like all dialogue to be in the form of a secret. Thank goodness for morphine, which they shared like candy, and my blackberry.

Finally!! It's catscan time. I roll out with some strange, unfriendly nurse in my hospital bed just like in the movies. I was doped up so I laid back and looked up to see if the view of the faces is the same as in the movies. Nope. Just unfriendly nurse nose hair. Damn. Movie magic ruined.

My catscan was uneventful, except for scary nurse telling me the stuff they were injecting me with would make me feel flush "down there". Um, what? Afraid she was hitting on me, I ignored her. Then, when they injected the stuff and I literally felt like I'd wet myself, I understood. Weird. I honestly thought I'd wet my pants. I would love to get my hands on whatever that was. How great at slumber parties!! All the humiliation, none of the mess! Hand in hot water is so last year.

Back to the room. For the results wait which I'm told could take ONE TO THREE HOURS. So I sat. Again. I got some more morphine at some point. Blah, blah, blah. Finally, some doctor I didn't know came in to tell me my intestines are inflammed and something is going on with my gallbladder and liver, but they aren't sure what so I'll be staying the night. ::blink, blink:: Really?

So Scott and Carter came back and I share this glorious news. Scott is less than thrilled. Carter doesn't have much of an opinion. About this time I ask for a sandwich, since it's been 24 hours since I've eaten. "Sure thing" says the nurse who remembers life without electricity. I never got my sandwich. I am starving.

So I got moved from the ER to this random room I am in right now. And in walks my nurse. My nurse, who in the first 3 minutes of meeting her, convinced me she's one of the stupidest people ever. She's asking me questions that she should know. What am I allergic to, why am I here, WHAT ARE THE DOCTORS PLANNING ON DOING WITH ME... things that I feel should be in my chart or known by the people taking care of me. She kept turning my IV machine off instead of muting it, she answered several of my questions with "I think" answers. Like, "Can I unplug the IV machine to go to the bathroom?" she answered with, "I think it can maybe reach or you can try and unplug it and just see what happens." She also told me something the doctor told her and that she "didn't really know what that meant". OMG. Did I get this chick on her first day? What the hell. Stuff like this until 8pm when the shift changed. And now I don't understand my nurses accent. And now she hates me, because on my fresh morphine high a moment ago, she said stuff I could understand and I just blatantly laughed in her face and shrugged. But I don't care. This hospital sucks. No one closes the door when they leave the room. I have started getting up and slamming it after them. No one seems to know ANYTHING. Alarms randomly start going off on some of my equipment and no one cares. I have to hit my call button to have the nurses come in. It's stocked of morons and the building and rooms are old and I feel like I'm going to die in the middle of the night. I miss Baylor Frisco. THAT is a good hospital.

Back to me. So Scott takes the baby home and sets about packing me a little bag and bringing my breast pump back to me. He waits for my dad to stop by on his way home from work to watch the boys while he comes back to the hospital. While he's gone, a doctor comes in to write my meds order and tells me nothing except that I can pretty much count on not eating for at least another 24 hours. DAMN IT I'M HUNGRY!! I am not one of those girls who doesn't eat. I eat. And I enjoy it. This sucks.

Then, FINALLY, the specialist shows up. The gastrointestinal surgeon. Who basically says that they're just monitoring me. My catscan showed that my intestines may be perferated and they need to make sure I don't need surgery. So they just want to wait it out, I guess. While I starve to death with only my morphine to console me.

Alas, that'll have to do.

2 comments:

Charlya said...

Oh my gosh! You can even still be hilarious in major pain and on a morphine high. Seriously though, keep us updated. I know I'm worried about you and tell Scott to contact me if there is anything I can do to help.

-Charlya

me said...

you have the best worst luck of anyone I know. I mean what are the odds?? really??? I wonder if you can ride this into your short term....j/k.

i'll be thinking about you. if you want a vistor, let me know. I'll pack up Rockband and we can show them what morphin can do to you!

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