Sunday evening I enjoyed a lovely Ruben
sandwich from Arby's. While my mouth enjoyed it, my stomach revolted.
I got the worst, and I do mean the WORST stomach ache of my entire
life. That shit started in the top right part of my abdomen and
wrapped all the way around my body. I determined that it must mean
that I had some KILLER gas building up, so, I went to bed at around
11pm, an hour after it started. At 12:30 I woke up in excruciating
pain. I got up, went to the bathroom. No luck. No relief. No ending
to the pain. Standing, sitting, crouching, laying down, curling in a
ball...nothing worked. This went on for about an hour and a half of
my position changing and pleading with God to make it stop and I
would go to the doctor first thing in the morning. I would do
anything to not have to go to the ER. ANYTHING. Finally, I hear my
own voice repeating what I had said just a week before to a dear
friend.... “You really need to go to the ER. If it is your Gall
Bladder, it could explode and it could kill you.” So, up I get,
grab my shit and wake the eldest daughter to notify her of my
impending trip to the nearest emergency department.
Eldest shoots up like a rocket
demanding to know exactly what is wrong, and when I will be home and
what they are going to do. All questions I can not answer for her. I
hopped in Shoshanna and basically screamed the entire drive to the
hospital. I get in. Sign paperwork with some kind of unknown
signature, because it was NOT my handwriting coming from my hand
(thinking some kind of demon possession was happening at that
point.).
Triage Nurse: Adorable guy. Asked me if
I was ready to hate him. I said “Why would I hate you?” Then I
realize. He's gonna push on my stomach. BASTARD. You cute BASTARD.
Pushing on my fat gut and nearly causing me to punch you in your
adorable face for causing me so much pain. HOWEVER, he gives this
crooked little smirk and says “What did you eat for dinner?” I
replied with my dinner, and, again, with the crooked smirk “That's
a common culprit.” WHAT?? He walks me to the back yammering on
about how my Gall Bladder is pissed. They are going to want a urine
sample, some blood, start an IV, probably do an ultrasound,
administer some pain meds, and probably keep me here a few days so
they can take that bitch out. WHAT??? No, no, no, you don't
understand. I am a single mom. 3 kids. No time for surgery. I was
told that unless I want to suffer like this repeatedly, I should just
do what they say and suck it up. Ok. Whatever. Let's see what the doc
has to say.
Doc comes right in. I think you have an
issue with your Gall Bladder. I'm going to order some labs, you need
to pee in a cup, and then get some more tests run. I pee in cup. I
have another adorable male come in to start my IV and draw my blood.
He gets the cath put in, and OOPS, releases the needle too early.
Well, well, well, now we have blood shooting all over the room. Blood
on my BRAND NEW PAJAMAS. I realize that my blood is THICK, and DARK.
Cutie compares it to ketchup. Asks if I would like to try some on my
Hot Dog. Yeah, NO THANKS. Carry on, take my blood out of the room,
flush my IV and get me rolling on some fluids. Thanks.
I get set up on fluids, labs are
rolling and ultrasound comes to get me. After a freaking 45 minute
ultrasound of my Gall Bladder, Liver and Kidney, in which I was
consistently told “Big breath in and
hold.....................................................................................................................and
breathe.” I get back to my room. Doc comes right in “Your white
blood cell count is slightly elevated, which means if it is your Gall
Bladder, it needs to come out. I'm gonna start you on antibiotics,
get you pain meds and wait for the ultrasound results.” Nurse comes
in, starts IV antibiotics, gives me my first ever dose of Morphine,
and I attempt to sleep. Start sending text messages when sleep does
not come. It's 4 am. I hear something about Code Silver over the
intercom. Make mental note of this Code Silver and decide that
research will be done later to determine what exactly this means.
Let me go back to the Morphine for a
minute. First of all, AMAZING pain killer. AMAZING. Second of all
OUCH MOTHER FUCKER. That shit HURTS when it hits. Because it hits
like a ton of bricks. But, Morphine and I have become fast friends.
It actually kills my pain, unlike the Ultram that they are giving me.
That ain't shit. It doesn't even touch my pain. Ok, I guess it does
touch it. It takes the edge off, but it doesn't kill the pain. Well,
it is what it is, and I take what I am offered. Because, let's be
honest, edge off is better than no edge off, RIGHT?
Doc comes in and tells me that my GB is
full of stones and that it is inflamed. She says she is going right
now to call the surgeon and see what he wants to do. She comes right
back, says they are admitting me and surgery will be scheduled.
YAY.....just what I wanted to hear. So, at 5:30 in the morning, I sit
in the ER waiting on a room to be ready for me. By 7:30, I am headed
up to my room.
Surgeon enters room. Tall, very
handsome older gentleman comes in and draws a lovely diagram of what
the problem is and explains that he can not do the surgery today that
it will have to be done tomorrow and that his scheduler is going to
make the appointment and let me know when I will be going under. So,
I spend the day and night in the hospital. Barely sleeping. Getting
pumped full of Cipro, Zofran, Pepcid, Heprin, Morphine and Tramadol.
Because of the crazy ass bitch down the hall. OMG. This is a story
all it's own.
Let me start at the beginning. First of
all, I have had really good nurses. I mean REALLY GOOD NURSES. They
have, for the most part been right on top of my pain meds, and
everything I have asked for. So, that afternoon, when I called 3
times over the course of an hour and a half for pain meds and no
nurse arrived. I was quite irritated. She finally came in and I asked
her if she had my Morphine, and she looked at me like I had 12 heads
because guess what? NO ONE FUCKING TOLD HER I WAS ASKING FOR PAIN
MEDS FOR AN HOUR AND A FUCKING HALF. Whatever. I know who it was too,
and that bitch better stay the fuck away from me the rest of the time
I am here. I'll rip her damn face off. (Haven't seen hide nor hair of
her ass since that day either.)
ANYWAY, it turns out that for the 45
minutes prior to my nurse arriving in my room, she spent with my
neighbor.....2 doors down. Apparently this woman is needy. Not just
needy, she is beyond needy. She is the epitomy of needy. In her
necessitous
state, she has managed to throw every other patient on the floor off
schedule with their meds and other important things. Now, I have
heard this incessant dinging the entire time I have been on the 4th
floor. It was not until the night nurse came in and flat out told me
that it was HER. The freaking lady 2 doors down from me. CONSTANTLY
ringing for the nurse. CONSTANTLY yelling “HELP ME”. Now,
ordinarially, this would bother me, and I would feel badly for the
person in such pain. But, since I had been on this floor for over 12
hours and all I have heard from Ms. Indigent down the hall is DING
FUCKING DING FUCKING DING AND HELP ME, I am really over her shit. I
finally looked at my night nurse, who was amazing by the way, and
told her I was about to get up, walk down there tell her to SHUT THE
FUCK UP AND THROW SOMETHING AT HER. She was really pissing me off,
because, honestly, I was having to wait at a minimum of 30 minutes
past my pain medication time, which just means it takes that much
longer to get it back under control. So, lady down the hall,
officially on my shit list.
I
managed to blow my IV that they placed in the ER, so, my awesome
night nurse changed that out for me. She was pretty damn good at it
too. No blood everywhere, no major mishaps, it worked seamlessly. She
did a great job, made me happy, and I was pain free again thanks to
the Morphine she so graciously pushed right up in my IV. :) I was
told that they would be coming to take me to surgery between 9 and
9:30 the next morning, so, I tried to sleep. TRIED. Not with all the
fucking DINGING from down the damn hall. BITCH.
The
next morning (Tuesday) I met my new day nurse team, and they started
to prep me for going down to surgery. They pumped me full of my daily
and twice daily and multiple times daily meds, cleaned me up, changed
me, and just as I was going potty, I hear.... “OMG, they are here!”
Well, they came up to get me at 7:45. WHAT THE HELL? They said
between 9 and 9:30. Holy Canoli. Ok, here we go. Down to pre-op. I
sit down there in the super uncomfortable, yet lovely shade of purple
gown made of plastic and paper. Doc came in, Anesthesiologist came
in, Anesthesiologist's Nurse came in, Doc's Nurse came in. They start
rolling me back to the OR. Anesthesiologist Nurse pushed something to
relax me into my IV. Yep. Anesthesiologist comes over and says “Hi!”
I remember nothing else until I was in recovery. They were asking me
how I felt. I'm thinking to myself..... “Really? You want to know
how I feel?? I feel like someone has just beaten the shit out of my
stomach, that's how I feel.” yet, the small, simple words “It
hurts.” were what came from my lips. SO, Fentanyl was pushed
repeatedly into my IV. Then Toradal was pushed in rapid succession. I
was sleeping, clearly, because I had supurb amounts of drugs running
through my veins. Well, the recovery nurse starts yelling at me about
breathing. What the hell? I'm SLEEPING FOOL!!!! I am NOT worried
about breathing right now. GEEZ. She continued to holler about taking
big deep breaths and eventually just threw oxygen on me. I was
totally out of it. I didn't want to hear her voice, I wanted to
sleep. That's all. Just sleep. Fucking shut up about breathing. I
don't care. I'm sleeping nurse loud mouth.
I
finally get back to my room, greeted by both of my nurses for the
day. Wonderful women, they were. I saw that my Dad was sitting in the
chair in my room waiting for me. He said the Doc came out to the
waiting room and recapped the surgery. Said the GB was PISSED.
Inflamed, full of stones and just overall nasty. Then he told my Dad
that I have a hernia. WHAT? WHAT THE FUCK? WHY? Did he fix it? NO. No
he didn't. He said that he was more worried about getting that GB out
and taking care of that issue first. So, now, I will have to come
back to have another surgery for a hernia. I'm waiting until after
the first of the year for that bitch to get done. Not trying to do
that shit any time soon. Dad said that the Doctor had come up to my
room to see me and I still wasn't there. He thought I would only be
in recovery for 45 minutes, but, I was actually there for 2 hours.
Poor Dad. But, he waited. And made sure I was ok, and then went home
to rest. Bless him.
I
stayed drugged up the rest of the day, alternating Morphine and
Tramadol. Don't remember too much until night shift change when I got
an AMAZING nurse again. This girl was a kindred spirit. A soul that
is dealing with almost the very same situation as I am, and hers
started 3 days after mine. Fate brought us together to have a most
lovely bond, and beautiful night sharing our stories. I was supposed
to have her back tonight, but she called out. :( BOO HISS ON HER.
It's all good though. I don't rightly blame her. The bitch down the
hall is enough to make every nurse here call out every fucking day
until she leaves! (Side note: Code Silver called twice this day, and
a Code Red.)
Morning
came and I got my awesomesauce nurse back again. She and I cackled
all through the day. Discussing farts, crazy ass retarded tape that
wouldn't rip right, burps, poop, diets, you know, regular
conversation between nurse and patient. She made me laugh so hard I
thought I was going to bust open all my incisions. Seriously, she ran
into the door and forgot to push the button, so all I hear is a THUD
on my door. She also had a fight with the tape for my IV, and the
tape nearly won, again, hysterical laughter. Thankfully, I didn't
bust open any incisions. She assaulted my thigh because I had this
great idea that a Heprin shot in my thigh would be so much better
than in my stomach. She accomadated my wild thought, and now I sport
a lovely bruise on my thigh from that shot. She giggled later and
said, “Well, you said it would be better in your thigh than in your
stomach.” I was not so amused. I thought that she should have
warned me that I would have a nasty ass ugly bruise from that shit.
Maybe she did. Maybe I was too drugged to remember. Sadly, she was
off the rest of my stay. I said my farewell to her and wished her a
happy few days off. (Code Silver called once this day.)
Night
nurse. I think she does not like me very much. She doesn't get my
sense of humor. I'mma need night nurse from the first night to come
in and give her a reality check and inform her of my awesomness.
Because, clearly, she missed the memo. All the other nurses on the
floor love me, what is her issue? Whatever, she wants me to walk
more. I don't want to. My stomach swells up and I look about 7 months
pregnant by the time I am done walking. Fuck that noise dude. It
HURTS too. I need her to pump me full of Morphine and Dilaudid. I
don't need to be questioned. Thanks though. I walked, to make her
happy, and came back bloated and miserable. Proved my point, got my
Pepcid, Cipro IV, Zofran, shot of Heprin, and went to bed. Passed
out. I slept a whole 4 and a half hours! WOOHOO!! It was amazing. She
came in around 5:30 after I called for pain meds and said that I must
have done ok during the night since she didn't hear anything from me.
Whatever, yeah, 4 and a half hours I was ok. That must be record
breaking. (Code Silver called once this night.)
New
day nurse. Cute as a button. Sweet as can be. Hooked me up to the
dreaded Cipro, gave me some Morphine, Zofran, Pepcid, and another
shot of mother fucking Heprin. Heat pack applied to IV site to
prevent the pain from the Cipro (that shit hurts too), and a painful
venture to the bathroom. Oh yeah, did I manage to tell you all that
they are making me pee in some kind of contraption to measure my
urine? Yeah, been doing that stupid shit since I got here. Whatever.
If it makes them happy, good. The Doc came in to see me and decided
that I should be taking 2 Dilaudid and a Motrin for my pain. Ok,
let's try that. Yeah, not so much. Got the painful IV removed. Cried
most of the afternoon because I am so sore and hurt and bitchy.
Napped. Got my discharge information, and now I sit, waiting for my
5:45 dose of Dilaudid and for my parents to pick me up at 6. Yay. I
have 8,000 restrictions on me. Not happy. Whatever. So, my amazing
and awesome trip to Oklahoma will result in NO swimming for me. :(
Not happy. Super sad. It's ok though, I am sure they will entertain
me in other ways. No pushing, pulling or lifting over 10 pounds for 6
freaking weeks. Great. It's ok, I got this. I can do this. Because I
am amazing, and awesome. (Code Silver called once this day. Level 1
Trauma came into the hospital as well. I know because they announced
it over the loud speaker for the entire hospital to hear.)
CODE
SILVER: Unruly, dangerous patient. Apparently, we have a lot of those
here in this hospital.
CODE
RED: FIRE. WTF? Glad I didn't burn to death.
Well,
it's been an adventure. Apparently one I will likely experience
again, just with a hernia this time instead of the GB. Farewell dear
Gall Bladder from hell. I would say you will be missed, but, hey, not
really. I'm glad your cranky ass is gone. I haven't shit since you
left me. That in and of itself is a small miracle. Ok, it's probably
all the narcotics I am on, but, I'm gonna go with the GB was messing
my stomach up so bad. Yeah. Because it's easier to blame it on that
than to admit that the beloved narcotics are jacking me up.
For
now, I am going to rest. So, now you know my story. I hope it was
entertaining. Oh, and here are some pictures for you.
Sweet note from the Eldest Child and the Littlest Little.
Sweet note from the Littlest Little, Boy Child and Niece :)
First IV placed in ER.
Oil change anyone?
AWWW, a welcome basket :)
My surgeon's awesome artwork diagram for me. :D
Someone fucked this fork up. For Serious. Think it out for a minute. Me, seriously drugged up. Trying to eat with this fork. Think about it....LAUGH....resume.
Heprin bruise.
I think this IV is DONE.
Yeah, it's gross.
LOOK! PREENER!! Dolphin on stick.
Happy
4th!
~Lou~
