Guess where I was last week? It certainly wasn't where I expected to be, but sometimes the body just doesn't cooperate with what you want. I'll start with a little backstory.
A couple weeks ago, I had some tummy pain. I just thought it was some indigestion, but it was bad enough to provoke me to take some Pepto, which is pretty bad, because I hate that stuff. I have to be so close to throwing up, my mouth starts watering for me to take that. I wasn't close to throwing up this time, but I was feeling unbelievably miserable with pain. I took the stuff, lay down, and finally went to sleep. The next day, I felt pretty normal, though there was a little residual ouch that went away by the afternoon.
About a week later, I got the same pain, right in the upper center of my abdomen. It felt different than other stomach pain I've felt, but I figured it was just something new with age. There are so many new and unexciting pains that come on with age, that this just seemed like another one of those. I broke out the Pepto again and went to lie down for a while, even though it was early in the evening this time. Two days later, I had it again. It seemed to let up enough for me to start watching American Idol, but it didn't stay away long enough for me to finish watching. I had the same chills I had every time, but this time, I felt nauseous too, and the pain was worse than ever. My temp was up just a little.
After reading about my symptoms online the day before, I figured I better call someone, but I was in no shape to make any phone calls, so John did it for me. First, we talked to the nurse hotline for our insurance. She said to call my doctor, who took no time to tell me to go to the emergency room. As I suspected, she thought gall bladder.
Anyone who's been in an ER knows how that went--lots of waiting. I got an IV right away, which I know isn't a good sign for my hopes of going home that night. We arrived there about 11 PM. I finally got an ultrasound at 2:30 AM, which showed a polyp in my gall bladder. The doctor said that usually doesn't cause the problems I was having, but because of the symptoms, the pain (they dosed me up good for that), and the polyp, I was going to be admitted. I finally got a room at 6 AM.
I was put in the "fast track" area, which meant I was expected to have surgery that day. First, I had to have a scan where they inject the radioactive stuff in you. They injected something else afterward to make my gall bladder contract, which hurt like a bitch, but it didn't last long, thank God. After they injected the dye, they found out I needed another ultrasound, but now I would have to wait until afternoon to get that done. I was visited by several doctors in the meantime, all of whom were talking gall bladder and surgery. It seems my liver enzyme levels were elevated and had gone up since the night before in the ER, which didn't quite correspond with gall bladder, but they wanted to see test results. So I had a fun day of lying around, getting tests done, and surviving on ice chips for sustanence. It sucked.
In the evening, a GI doctor came in and said all the tests came back normal. I was feeling almost 100% by then, but did he think I should go home? Of course not! I have health insurance, so he ordered enough blood tests for the morning that needed about 12 vials of blood drawn (no exaggerating there!) and an MRI. At least I got to eat. Hospital food never tasted so good! I even ate the questionable pink fluffy stuff with chunks of something in it.
I had another quality night's sleep before being bled to death in the morning. A migraine was brewing, but again, I wasn't allowed anything by mouth, so my only option was the narcotic painkiller by IV that were on my orders. Some might think that's grand, but I really hate taking that stuff, and Dilaudid generally doesn't do anything for headaches from my experience. Still, I was desperate, and I knew I'd have to be stuffed in a tube, enduring the clunking and buzzing of an MRI, so I had the nurse shoot me up. Then I went for my first MRI, which didn't bother me a bit. The migraine, on the other hand, bothered me immensely, and I was cupping my head in my hands as I was wheeled back to my room. The nurse offered more Dilaudid and Tylenol. Even though I told him neither of those worked, he sent another nurse in with the goods. I took the Tylenol, refused the narcotics, lay down, and covered my head. Eventually, the doctor came in and ordered something to knock out the migraine.
Other than the head, nothing was wrong with me. I felt just dandy, and the MRI results came back negative. The bloodwork said my liver levels were coming back down. Regardless, I was going to be held one more day to see how I tolerated my one meal a day, which I wolfed down. The food there was pretty crappy, but it's mighty tasty when you're only eating once a day.
The next morning, I actually got breakfast! My IV came out, and I was allowed to take a shower. My head didn't hurt. I was ready to walk home if I had to, but John had stayed home the whole time I was in the hospital, so that wasn't going to be necessary. Finally, I was told I would get to go home, but the nurses were shorthanded, so it took a while to get my paperwork done. I got another quality meal at the hospital, which I ate just because I was going to get my money's worth out of the place after having to pay $3.50 a day to watch TV. I was out of there in time to greet the kids after school.
I've felt fine ever since. I have to get blood drawn later this week and go see doctors next week. It's suspected by a couple of doctors that I passed a gallstone. The surgeon isn't so sure, because my bloodwork doesn't match up quite right. The only thing to do is wait and see though. 60% of people who have gallstones get them again, so I hope to be one of the 30%. I do hope it was just gallstones and not something else, because then, who knows what's wrong with me?
The fact that whatever would be wrong has to do with the liver doesn't set well with me. Every time someone even mentions "pancreas," I freak out a little bit, because I've known two people whose fathers died of pancreatic cancer. It's fast, painful, and nearly incurable. I also have a friend who's already had one liver transplant from disease and needs another one now. That whole area is pretty scary, and I would much rather have gallstones than anything else.
I feel like I never should have been in the hospital. Everyone feels sorry for me and asks how I am, and it just seems so silly. Maybe on my part, there's a little denial going on, or maybe I realize I spent way too many days in the hospital and had far too many tests done for something relatively minor. I could be underestimating the whole thing, but I just have how I feel to go on more than anything, and other than a migraine, which is something I've had many times before, I felt fine since Wednesday afternoon. Anyway, wish me luck with my bloodwork this week, so I don't have to deal with more tests. My arm is still sore where the IV was.
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One Year Ago Today:
