The Last Two Weeks, Part I

So, on Monday the 13th, P was supposed to have a doctor's appointment in Hutch, but it turned out his doc had gone on vacation and his secretary decided not to notify anyone. I wasn't feeling so hot (as evidenced by the fact I didn't ask to go to Taco Hut), and it just seemed to get worse as the week wore on. By the end of Tuesday I was having extreme nausea and cramps and an incredible back ache, but a hot rice bag took care of the latter and subsequently the former. More aches and nausea on Wednesday, so much so that I took a nap in the afternoon. Same on Thursday. Thought I was just dealing with the flu, but then the backache got so bad Thursday night that I begged Dad for one of his muscle relaxers (I NEVER take other people's prescriptions) and just crawled in bed and cried and cried.

Friday morning I dragged my aching ass out of bed and in to the doctor's. He was very worried about my symptoms and the fact that I hadn't eaten or drunk anything in about four days. He had me admitted to the hospital for tests.

First there was x-ray which was uneventful. Then there were the poor guys from anesthesia who tried for an hour and a half to get a PICC line in me but couldn't get the tube to thread. They finally got an IV, which shocked the hell out of me.

Then came the numb-nuts RN to straight-line cath me for a UA (had to cath me for it since I'd started my period the day before). She stuck the tube in my vagina. I told her so, she argued with me (like I don't know my vaginal opening from my urethra -- I mean, I realize I'm not getting any, but I know the difference!), she finally found my urethra, and it felt like she was trying to stick the damn thing through my body wall. I think I might've screamed because she went away. She brought in another RN to try. SHE stuck the tube in my vagina. I told her so, she argued with me, she finally found my urethra, and while I still felt remarkably like a shish kabob, they managed to get the damn sample. I had to pee, and RN #1 suggested leaving in the cath until I was empty. I said something along the lines of, "Get the damn thing out of me and get a bed pan." Or something like that.

Later that night, after a visit from my dad and later Linda, Nathan, Alysha, and Becky from my folks' church (when Alysha gave me a piece of her artwork as a get well), I had a CT scan which was rather interesting. Got kinda mesmerized by the magnet thingy going around and around. And lots of blood milked out of my ring finger. Found out I was extremely acidotic, so much so that everyone was amazed that I didn't feel worse. It was due to my dehydration.

When my doc admitted me to the hospital, he admitted me as NPO (meaning I could have nothing by mouth). No water, no ice chips, no nothing. So naturally, I was so thirsty I wanted to scream. Everyone kept saying it would get better after my IV fluids were started, but it was a while. I whined and complained so much that Doc put me on ice chips in the late afternoon, so whenever someone came in the room (my dad, a nurse, an aide), their entry fee was a spoonful of ice. By late night (after 10 or 11 p.m.) I was allowed clear liquids. By morning I was allowed a regular diet, but I limited myself to full liquids (so I could have soup and pudding) -- I just didn't trust my tummy.

By Saturday morning the verdict was in -- kidney stone on the left, too big to pass. I was told I'd be sent to Salina on Monday, but it was changed to Sunday about fifteen seconds after Edie walked in after driving from Augusta to see me. The transfer was delayed a bit after the latest blood work showed my potassium was too low. They tried to drip the potassium directly into me over a two hour period, but the stuff set my arm on fire, so they wound up mixing two parts saline with one part potassium and dripping that into me over four hours. At one point I asked, "Why don't we just tell Salina to hold on until tomorrow, and I'll eat a couple of bananas today?"

I was taken to Salina via ambulance (with my lovely egg crate -- wasn't forgetting THAT baby) where I met the urologist who was taking me over. He scheduled me to have a stint placed in my ureter at 4:00 the next afternoon, and that evening I had my first meal in a week. I was actually hungry, and I was very glad I wasn't having surgery the next morning so that I could get in TWO meals. I tell you, a turkey sandwich and baby carrots never tasted so good.