Monday, August 30, 2010

You can't be serious....No Freakin' Way!

Ok. So, I have to start out with the observation that people in wheelchairs get lots of sympathy smiles. Period.

Now, I have to explain myself :P

Saturday night I felt so bad that I packed a bag to take to the hospital with me should that become necessary...I was beginning to think it was. But I tried to hold it together that night. I almost crawled to get my mum at 1:40 am, but thought better of it. So, I waited until 11:20 Sunday morning when mum was in the middle of church service to call her and say "I need you to come home and take me to the"
I guess I must have left the "hospital" part out, because mum comes home with jello, gatorade, an such stuffs.It turns out that she was hoping I didn't have to go to the hospital. But, seeing as I was collapsed in a chair counting the seconds until I could see the sign for "Emergency Room", we decided to go for it.

Anyway, after a look of consternation at the now full fridge, I grabbed my bag, groaned as I sat down in the car, and rolled my eyes at what I thought would be a long day. Man, was that an understatement.
We got to the ER at about 12:08 (Yes. I can read digital clocks! Yay me!), and I guess I looked so terrible (since I was almost falling off the bench, clenching my stomach, flushed, trying to stifle a small bloody nose and blanching at the pain) that an RA pushed a wheelchair over and had me sit in it. Thank you, kind stranger!

After all the paperwork hassle, they did triage on me, and concluded that I was in no immediate danger, so they let me sit in the waiting room for an hour. Grrrr.
I got to watch the segment on Paris Hilton being released once again from jail... and I had to sit and watch that segment over and over...5 times. If that was the most "breaking news", they seriously need to find some better reporters, or at least make something up. Anything HAS to be better than that. I mean, how stupid can one person be? (Ok, well, stupidity can be funny the first time. Not usually the fifth, unless you're male :P)
Hilton was in her boyfriend's car, and they got pulled over as he was driving DRUNK. Then the police smelled cocaine. *rolls eyes* The didn't find any in the car, but they did pull the two into the station. Paris pulls out a tube of lip balm or something, and, Brilliance of all Brilliance! a small container of cocaine drops out. I.D.I.O.T.
I mean, how stupid can you be?! I would have at least LOOKED in my purse when I went to grab something if I knew the police were breathing down my neck AND I had coke concealed. Sheesh.
Not that I've ever been in that situation, mind you. I'm just saying I have a few more IQ points than said heiress with serious issues.
At least supermodels usually have enough brains to hide their illegally obtained diet pills!!! *shakes head* And using supermodels as signs of intelligence is a bit low, even for me. They get slightly brainwashed, I'm afraid.
But at least they're practiced concealers of illegal substances!

After that, and a number of shows on money and thousands of pounds of E. coli contaminated meats, I was called back to room 18 in St. Vincent's ER. Thank the Lord. I was getting too many people in the waiting room staring at me and giving me the "Oh, the poor dear!...I just want to pinch her cheeks and help her buck up!".
NOT happening.

Mum and I got settled in the chair and bed, respectively, and then had to wait 45 minutes for the nurse to come in and stick me with an IV....and let me say that when they have to jiggle it around in your arm after saying "BIG stick....sorry", one tends to cringe (Ooh! Eeh! Ahh! Argh!! Urk!! Eek!) and think of something annoying to say(No... I shall not repeat what went through my head). This time, unlike the last ER visit where I had "a few things to say" to my nurse, I held my tongue. I mean, she only had to stick me in that one arm, not 8 times like the last nurse >_<

They pumped me full of various medicines and a liter of fluid, all while sending in the nurse periodically, a student doctor, and then, after 5 hours, the attending physician.
They pulled fluid samples *sigh* (I'm kind of tired of giving them....), ran panels of tests, eventually coming to the conclusion that I was a bit low on potassium, and slightly dehydrated. But nothing serious.

The first round of medicines they gave me were for my nausea, so I could hopefully eat something. They didn't work. The second round of medicines they gave me, well, let's just say I reacted slightly to it.
Side effects of this drug are anciness, anxiety, mood swings....and I had them all. *laugh*.
I suddenly felt tight in the chest, claustrophobic, and like I need to "JUST GET OUT OF HERE!". I started getting irritable, my eyes darting anxiously around the room, and my body just unable to stay quite still. I would bite my lip, and think of insane things to do, like run screaming out of the hospital. "Would the security guards grab me? Or would the  nurses get there first?" *grin*. The only thing that kept me sane on that medicine was that they paired it with benadryl. I don't even want to think about what I would have been like had I not had the benadryl :P My friend Casey just started laughing when I started doing my facial expressions when describing my emotions with the drug. Heck, even I laughed.
I was nuts!
I'll take nausea any day over that drug!
But with the benadryl, I would have moments of complete loopy-ness. My eyes would droop, but I'd think of dancing pink ponies (ROCK CANDY MOUNTAIN!!!...*pause* never mind), and if I could ride one while I left the hospital screaming.
Whoop-di-do! haha

Then came the uncomfortable part. I'm not even sure if I should mention it *cringe* but I guess I will. My doctor said she wanted to do a rectal exam.....(and at this time this post's title words pop into my head..."You can't be serious...No Freakin' Way!) She said (and I quote) "We want to explore a new avenue"....hahahahaha! She only got the "no-pun intended" joke after she said it and watched as I blanched and laughed at the same time.
Gosh. I actually really did like my doctor. And it's a darn good thing she was female, or that 5 minutes would have been extremely awkward.
So, after that gem of a time (Pfff. Yeah, right), they did more tests, gave me another medicine for nausea, offered me some for pain (which I refused....oddly enough. I wanted to stay of prescription meds as much as possible, and because my doctor wants it that way =\ ), and then discharged me.

During that time I called both Casey and Ellie to tell them I was in the hospital...again. Since Casey is essentially my adoptive sister, and Ellie is now a good friend and a fellow sufferer of bodily maladies, I thought they would both appreciate it. I was right. My phone lost all good reception before I could call any of the other people who's names popped in my head. *shrug* They found out soon enough from facebook. Good old facebook, what would we do without you?
Well, lots. But that's beside the point :P
Once I was discharged and waiting for mum to pull the car up, I called Casey and told her I had been released. Then, once I got home, I called Ellie.
It had been a long 7 hours at the hospital, and I was happy to tell them it was over...for now.

Now, to summarize, I don't ever want that freakin nutso psychologically impacting nausea medicine again. I'm flipping through the ER discharge papers to find out what it was, because with my already prevalent chemical imbalances, it affected me more than the average person.
A side note about that is that I do NOT want to be apprehended by nurses as I barrel pell-mell down the hallway in my hospital gown. That I can do when I'm in my 60's and ready to retire to a nice psychiatric facility. But until then, adios embarrassing marathons *laugh*

I'm home now, one day after my 3rd ER ordeal, and in my comfortable red diving shirt I picked up in the carribean (when I could live normally without fear of doctors), my favorite pants (my faded light purplish jeans) and a smile. Casey visited me this afternoon on her break between classes. We laughed and had a lovely, if short-lived time, together. I love that girl!
And now, I am finishing up this post before I have to head to see my doctor (ER physician's orders) and try to see what has caused my sudden and unexpected relapse (which has no known trigger, as of now). Joy. Let's just hope that I don't have to repeat another No Freakin Way incident, and that the doctor can actually offer me answers, answers that so far seem to be eluding me quite successfully.
I wonder if they have special ops training?

Be Well!


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