Something Creative
So a few posts back I gave a recounting of my visit to ER & admission to the hospital. It went smoothly (no big scary horror stories about not getting treatment or aid) and I was soon ensconsed in my own ER room, carefully tucked in with a wonderful IV & pain meds. I dozed a lot lying there…I hadn’t slept very well in the preceeding days plus the combo of drugs made me sleepy. Abe sat in the room with me — for 7 long hours… I’m sure he was bored out of his mind (I know he was worried too) though I kept asking him how he was, if he needed anything. I also remember apologizing A LOT for being sick & asking to go to the hospital (not to mention the fretting I did over not taking the time to shave my legs before we left home).
So after several exams, lots of waiting & no answers I was admitted to the hospital. They wheeled me up to 4West and into room 403. There I answered about 5,000 questions (well I tried…I was after all on a pharmacy worth of meds) about my health history. I remember asking the nurse (who was VERY patient) to repeat some of the questions several times. Fortunately Abe was able to help out with the answers. I also managed to get a different gown…I went from one that was too small to one what could have been used as a circus tent for the Lollipop Kids.
Once settled in I finally got some water which I’d been asking for all day but was allowed because of the tests. Abe & I just hung out for a while but eventually it was getting to be late & he still had to drive home. I never like saying good-bye to Abe. Lying there in that hospital bed, saying good-bye & watching Abe walk out the door was one of my least favorite moments. Part of me wanted nothing more than to pitch a hysterical crying fit & make him stay with me. Knowing that would be far too selfish I waited to do most of my crying until after I was sure he was gone. (Besides there was no way Abe could sleep in the one chair all night & the bed was too small for both of us. Plus the dogs needed to be fed, watered & let out for a run.)
I passed a less than restful night Monday night. Tuesday morning started with a visit from someone taking more vials of blood for testing & another individual checking my vitals. I drifted back to semi-sleep for a while. As I was having a hida scan on Tuesday sometime I was not allowed to eat. (I’ll explain a hida scan in a bit) Now I knew I was having a hida scan & that there’s no food beforehand….but that didn’t stop at least 3 people from trying to give me a breakfast tray. I told the first person I was not allowed food because of the test. They said ok & left. A few minutes later a second person tapped on the door & asked if I wanted breakfast. I declined in a somewhat grouchy manner although I did my best to be polite. When the third person came barging in with the breakfast tray I refused it in a less polite & intensely more grouchy manner. The third person argued with me, demanding that I should eat. I brusquely explained that I was not allowed to eat because I was scheduled for a hida scan. Person #3 (most likely thinking I was crazed with medication) huffed out of the room & returned with my nurse who (fortunately for me) backed me up on the no food allowed. The tray was then quickly removed & I was left in peace. Abe arrived shortly thereafter & I was very happy not to be alone with the crazed breakfast gang.
After a while I was wheeled down to nuclear medicine for my hida scan. The hida scan is a terribly uncomfortable test. First you are strapped to a narrow metal table. I do mean strapped as there must be no movement for the duration (about an hour) of the test. Then you are injected with a radioactive dye. After that you lie still in a very uncomfortable & artificial position while a giant machine is moved over you & takes pictures of your gallbladder. The dye slowly fills up the gallbladder & then spills into the small intestine…once that happens a second drug is administered which makes the gallbladder contract. This is where it gets incredibly painful (at least for me). For the next 6-15 minutes (depending on the person giving the test) you feel as if your insides are being squeezed through a bendy, swirly straw. Did I mention that you’ll want to curl up in the fetal position, curse the doctor & then die…’cuz that is exactly what you can’t do—because you are strapped down.
When I was finally unstrapped & allowed to sit up I barely managed to slide down off the table. {oh yeah, me = 5’ 2”…I needed a step stool to climb onto it. The geriatric man who administered the test neglected to aid me in getting down. This is the same man when told that I needed an new IV (the first one infiltrated) and that it’s quite hard to find a vein proceeded to stick me on the inside of my left elbow & dig around ‘til he hit a vein…it took until just this past week for the bruise from that to disappear.} Needless to say I was happy when I managed to get back in the wheel chair & he left me sitting in the hallway for someone to find.
That was just the morning of my second day in the hospital…I’ll tell you about the rest of my adventures in another entry.
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