4:26 a.m. | 2003-12-13
Sickness Applied
Word of the Day for Saturday December 13, 2003
solace SOL-is, noun:
1. Comfort in time of grief; alleviation of grief or anxiety.
2. That which relieves in distress; that which cheers or consoles; a source of relief.
Much has happened.
Little time to explain.
For when explained.
It will all begin again.
So I tried sleeping, and because I was so cold I dressed myself in mittens, socks, pants, a sweater and a hat. And all of this was while I was in bed. Thus followed one of the warmest temperatures I have ever had. I managed to push it to 103.2 (though I was so out of it I wasn't coherent enough to ask to be taken to the ER as I layed around and felt horrid). I was up and down and up and down, though I wasn't really moving, and I was sore all over. I was trying every medication I could, I was crying it hurt so bad. You don't understand--I'm a pain nut, this hurt so bad it actually 'hurt.'
I managed to break my own fever though, see a few things that didn't exist, and get back into bed. By the point that I went to sleep my fever had gone down to 100.8, which for an average of 97.6 is still hot, but a big improvement. In four hours I woke up again though, and it had spiked again at 102 and it wasn't dropping with asprin. Which is strange. I kind of freaked out, because this isn't like my body, called my mom, and she told me to go to the ER. Jamie was nice enough to go with me, such a sweetheart.
The ER treated me pleasantly with medication, though not with service. They gave me Toradol which was very nice of them, since it made me feel better. But the range of doctors I got and disorganization I was treated with was ridiculous. Welcome to our health system at work.
First came triage, and this creepy guy named Achmed, who was completely white, but really really strange. And the great drunk guy in triage 2 who kept claiming he had a seizure. Oh yay. So the triage guy sits me down, takes my symptoms, writes up the chart and tries to draw my blood. He can't. I told him where it was (I'm really hard to stick, my mom works in a lab and I KNOW where to take blood from in my arm). Several digs later he ruins the pressure on the tube (which by the way he wasn't using right on a hard stick, you're supposed to push the vacuum tube on when you start to be unable to find it, so it pulls it towards you). Later I'll come to find out they never wanted my blood tested. Oy. But they did want my urine, and interestingly enough as another nurse was talking to me about my symptoms, he said, 'well, you're not pregnant.' Oh. Joy.
The attending came and saw me, cool guy, did the work up, very professional, good bedside manners.
Then came 'nervous 4th year resident guy.' He was fun, only not. The first thing he did when he came in was to say 'oh, so I see you've had your shot.' I paused and looked at him, 'no, not that I remember.' He looked at me like I was lying, look buddy, I wouldn't lie to you about getting a very pleasurable substance shot into my arm. Ugh. So he's all confused about who ordered the shot (the attending had, but had forgotten to sign it), and meanwhile he's just kinda staring into space trying to figure out why I wouldn't have gotten my shot. The best part came when he asked me if I had been sexually active recently, "no," was my answer (ya have to be truthful, no matter how much it sucks). From there he proceeds to say, 'because you know, increased sexual activity can create that joint pain in your hips.' Yes, I do know that rough fucking for nights on end will make my hips hurt, I am aware of this, but no that is not why they hurt. Oh lordie.
As he's there though, he's taking my symptoms, goes to do a physical check, and says he has to wash his hands, by passes the sink by us, and doesn't return for an hour.
In this hour the Chief of Staff comes by, a very nice lady who also asks my symptoms, does a physical check and manages to tell me I don't need a chest x-ray. Keep in mind the attending said I didn't but later on the 'nervous guy' will say that I do.
Just as she leaves a nurse and her protege come in, introduce themselves and AGAIN begin to ask for my symptoms, I'm getting totally sick of this by this point. As she's doing a check of me, and planning to test my blood sugar (damn it, I'm not even insulin resistant, you don't need to test my blood sugar) the 'nervous guy' walks in, and goes, 'oops' and walks back out. I looked over at Jamie and we both just kind of laughed at the hilarity of all that was going on.
He came back soon, finished his exam, but in the middle of examining me and talking to me, he had to go blo his nose, apparantly he had a cold too. In that time I was taken for a chest x-ray, which 'nervous guy' had just told me I didn't need, had to stand up and have this crazy lady yell at me to turn and hug this wierd metal box. Yay. But when I got back to my little curtained area 'nervous guy' came not too much later and told me that there was a little condensing in my lower left lung, though nothing big enough to be pneumonia. This much I knew, I had pneumonia last year, it ain't fun.
After that things were just disorganized as fuck, we wouldn't be seen for hours, and when we were it was by random people accidentally walking in. Eventually I was just like, damn it, let me go home. They throat swabbed me and let me go, this time they checked me out, I paid my co-pay and I was out. Unfortunately I felt a ton better. Thank you Toradol.
I get home at 12 PM or so (after leaving at around 5 AM)and I went to bed immediately. I passed out, it was great, I didn't hurt. When I woke up and the Toradol had worn off though? Holy crap. I was aching like no other. I felt like I had been hit by a semi, I wasn't sure what to do. I managed to get up, get some pain killers and go back to bed, though I couldn't sleep and I was just miserable. I didn't get to sleep until midnight, where I took a vicodin and some robitussin, and went to sleep. At 4 AM, then, my body woke me up for more drugs. So here I sit, with drugs coursing through my veins, trying to figure out where I am, what I'm doing, and if I'm gonna survive.
Yay.
So that's where I am, and that's where I'll be for a while, bed, hopefully. Even though I have huge papers and tons of work for Tuesday. Ugh.
Be well y'all.
Signing Off--Lauren
