I once again found myself in hospital this week. And it was possibly the least pleasant hospital experience I've ever had.
Wednesday, I started feeling really nasty, but didn't think much of it, so I went to bed like normal. When I woke up around 9pm that night, I felt like I was gonna die. I tried putting an ice pack on my stomach, and that didn't help. I tried drinking some Sprite, and was barely able to keep that down, tried a warm bath, and that just made me want to be sick. I even tried distraction therapy, in the form of watching Casualty, but by midnight, things had gotten so bad that Ryan finally called an ambulance for me.
The nice medics came round in a matter of minutes and even put my drip needle further up my arm for me, rather than in my elbow (because that's the worst, imo), and they took me up to Sunrise, which is about four blocks away from here.
In hospital was a totally different matter. I spent three hours on a trolley, in a corridor outside of triage, in front of a door to the ambulance bay, so I wound up so damn cold that the shivers had made me nearly sick several times.
Eventually, I did finally did get moved to a cubicle, where I sat for long enough to get some pain meds, and then was moved to a very noisy corridor where I lay ignored until nearly noon. The only time anybody really paid any attention to me was when I sicked up all over the floor, and even then, it took them several minutes to realise what had happened. When they finally remembered that I needed a CT scan, they came round, took me over for that and then just put me right back in the same spot where I was ignored for another two hours. By 2:00, I was so annoyed by everything that I told one of the nurses to either get me moved like they said they were going to eight hours before, or I was just gonna discharge myself. That seemed to do the trick, because they finally called up to have me moved, and by 3:00, I finally got brought out of ER and into a ward.
Up in the ward, it was a bit hard to get attention still, but most of that was owed to my room mate, a 97 year old woman with dementia. I felt bad for it, but she did make me laugh more than a few times -- particularly when she took off all her clothes and pulled out her IV.
Around 6pm, they took me down for an ultrasound, and after they brought me back up, they let me have a bit of Jello, which was the first thing I'd eaten since Wednesday afternoon. They also let me up to walk around a bit, which was nice, because after lying on that trolley for so long, my back had been killing me. And apparently my hip had gone, but I hadn't noticed before because I hadn't been allowed on my feet yet.
They gave me something different than morphine this time (I can't remember what it was), and between whatever it was and being stuck in bed constantly, I couldn't keep my eyes open longer than twenty minutes at a time. I'd be watching something on tv, and the next thing I knew, something else would be on, suddenly.
glam_jam was there for most of the time, and round 2:00am, Ryan showed back up (he'd left just before they moved me, to go get some sleep). He came with comics, which only made it marginally easier to stay awake, but I found that the more I got up and moved around (mainly because they kept pumping saline into me, so I had to constantly pee), I got a bit more energy back.
Round about 8-ish, they gave me breakfast, of Jello, tea, and chicken broth. Because they still hadn't figured out wtf was wrong with me, after taking bloods thrice, urine twice, and all the the other scans. Around 10:30, I finally saw a doctor, and she said that everything came back negative, which is just another way of saying they had no idea what was wrong with me, and so they were just going to send me home. Even that didn't happen until noon, though (that was yesterday).
So, I came home, and still feeling the pain meds they had given me, I thought I was feeling better, but apparently, I'm not. I still feel like I'm going to sick all over my own socks, and have one hell of a headache, probably from still passing out randomly and sleeping forever. I've managed to eat a bit more today, though. Bit of cereal, some soup, and even got daring with a slice of pizza. I'm keeping a tupperware on close hand, though. Just in case.
Wednesday, I started feeling really nasty, but didn't think much of it, so I went to bed like normal. When I woke up around 9pm that night, I felt like I was gonna die. I tried putting an ice pack on my stomach, and that didn't help. I tried drinking some Sprite, and was barely able to keep that down, tried a warm bath, and that just made me want to be sick. I even tried distraction therapy, in the form of watching Casualty, but by midnight, things had gotten so bad that Ryan finally called an ambulance for me.
The nice medics came round in a matter of minutes and even put my drip needle further up my arm for me, rather than in my elbow (because that's the worst, imo), and they took me up to Sunrise, which is about four blocks away from here.
In hospital was a totally different matter. I spent three hours on a trolley, in a corridor outside of triage, in front of a door to the ambulance bay, so I wound up so damn cold that the shivers had made me nearly sick several times.
Eventually, I did finally did get moved to a cubicle, where I sat for long enough to get some pain meds, and then was moved to a very noisy corridor where I lay ignored until nearly noon. The only time anybody really paid any attention to me was when I sicked up all over the floor, and even then, it took them several minutes to realise what had happened. When they finally remembered that I needed a CT scan, they came round, took me over for that and then just put me right back in the same spot where I was ignored for another two hours. By 2:00, I was so annoyed by everything that I told one of the nurses to either get me moved like they said they were going to eight hours before, or I was just gonna discharge myself. That seemed to do the trick, because they finally called up to have me moved, and by 3:00, I finally got brought out of ER and into a ward.
Up in the ward, it was a bit hard to get attention still, but most of that was owed to my room mate, a 97 year old woman with dementia. I felt bad for it, but she did make me laugh more than a few times -- particularly when she took off all her clothes and pulled out her IV.
Around 6pm, they took me down for an ultrasound, and after they brought me back up, they let me have a bit of Jello, which was the first thing I'd eaten since Wednesday afternoon. They also let me up to walk around a bit, which was nice, because after lying on that trolley for so long, my back had been killing me. And apparently my hip had gone, but I hadn't noticed before because I hadn't been allowed on my feet yet.
They gave me something different than morphine this time (I can't remember what it was), and between whatever it was and being stuck in bed constantly, I couldn't keep my eyes open longer than twenty minutes at a time. I'd be watching something on tv, and the next thing I knew, something else would be on, suddenly.
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Round about 8-ish, they gave me breakfast, of Jello, tea, and chicken broth. Because they still hadn't figured out wtf was wrong with me, after taking bloods thrice, urine twice, and all the the other scans. Around 10:30, I finally saw a doctor, and she said that everything came back negative, which is just another way of saying they had no idea what was wrong with me, and so they were just going to send me home. Even that didn't happen until noon, though (that was yesterday).
So, I came home, and still feeling the pain meds they had given me, I thought I was feeling better, but apparently, I'm not. I still feel like I'm going to sick all over my own socks, and have one hell of a headache, probably from still passing out randomly and sleeping forever. I've managed to eat a bit more today, though. Bit of cereal, some soup, and even got daring with a slice of pizza. I'm keeping a tupperware on close hand, though. Just in case.