So I walked back into our bedroom and said "dude, I'm going to get me some good drugs at the hospital." That woke him up fast. He bundled me out the door into a cab, with hugs and kisses and promises not to worry about the home front.
In the ride over I was trying to decide if it was a twisted ovarian cyst (been there, done that so many times but each time I'm reminded OMFG THIS IS PAINFUL) or a ruptured appendix (haven't been there or done that but I imagine it's painful). By the time we pulled into the ER, my skin colour was a mix of grey green and I was pretty much in tears. I staggered into triage like DRAMA was my middle name and I figured I must have done a great show because I didn't have to wait. I was immediately banded and told to stagger down the hall to follow the yellow line.
Yellow line in internal medicine, blue line is orthopeadics, green line is xray... can you tell I've been to this hospital many times? Thanks kid.
Anyhow, I walked down into that area and there was a young guy at the desk. I handed him my chart and he said "I'm putting you in a bed right away." Well that's not the first time a random guy has said that to me but this was the first time I was grateful to hear those words. Then he said "I'm ordering an IV right now and then we can figure out what's wrong with you". Oh my word, he was a doctor and I wanted to french him despite the searing pain that riddled my body and my devoted love of my husband.
Well I didn't french him but he made me delirious once he ordered that morphine drip.
After a brief exam, a zillion questions, and poking that resulted in me pretty much slapping him, we were both stumped. The pain was in a strange place -- maybe my gallbladder was about to blow. An ultrasound was pulled into the room and revealed nothing except my insides are way pretty.
So another ultrasound was ordered, this time with radiologists attached to it. You know, the folks who can tell me more than "you've got real purdy insides lady". But that wasn't going to happen for a while so I was allowed to wallow in my opium stupor and grab some zzzzzs.
Then I thought I need to give my family an update. I had no idea what time it was and as I fumbled for my phone with the one good arm I had left after being attacked by the bloodletters, I asked the staff member left in the room "Can I make a call?"
For the record, he was standing right by a HUGE sign that said "NO MOBILE DEVICES TO BE USED UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES" and it had a picture of my particular model of phone right next to the huge RED glaring words. All it needed was "This means YOU motherbumper" to drive the point home. But it didn't say that and the dude said "I won't tell".
So I called my husband and gave him the lowdown. After speaking for a few minutes -- I was kind of shocked at how crappy I sounded -- I decided to send an email to Catherine to let her know where the hell I was. Then I noticed that there was a whole bunch of "where the f*** are you emails in my inbox" and I felt overwhelmed. I couldn't answer these all.
Then I suddenly felt really alone plus overwhelmed.
So I tweeted.
"I'm in emerg on a morophin drip for mysterious pains. This must mean one thing: it must MONDAY. Mondays suck hard. Bah."
Grammatically incomplete but still, I got the point across. Anyone who knows me on Twitter knows I hate Mondays so it just seemed fitting.
And suddenly DMs and beautiful messages started pouring in. The feeling of alone and overwhelmed started to dissipate. My love of Twitter was once again renewed since it's been bashed beyond recognition for me by recent events.
Twitter CAN be filled with love and this renewed my faith.
I tweeted because I needed my friends and they were there.
For that I say thank you more loudly than you can imagine. Actually I will say it softly because I'm still in pain.
Oh yes, back to the pain.
Eventually I had the ultrasound where it was discovered that among other things, I had a kidney stone the size of a Buick that couldn't be treated except with drugs to facilitate it's exit and dull the pain. *sigh* They are giving it seven days to leave my hallowed halls which means knowing my luck, it will arrive just in time for Christmas.
OH JOY, IT'S THE CHRISTMAS STONE! GOD REST YE MERRY, STONE!
So now I'm home, afraid to go far for fear I'll be birthing a fire-baby stone in the streets, and taking copious amounts of boring drugs.
I love how the last one says "May Cause Dizziness". In truth it should say: Take this and fall over like a drunk kitten ALL THE MO'FO TIME. Because that would have been more accurate.
Anyhow, this is my long-winded way of retelling what happened yesterday and believe it or not, this is barely a tenth of what happened. I'm saving the funny part for another post - one that I can write when the freaking DIZZY SPELLS END. I don't do dizzy well.
* I'm quoting Huey Lewis and the News which must mean the morphine hasn't worn off just yet.