Sick of Being Sick- AGAIN! -UPDATED

As mentioned in my last post, I am back home after a several day stay at the Hospital. It was pretty serious, but now that the whole experience is behind me I can look back and laugh. Or, I can look at what the whole thing cost us and cry. Really hard.

It all began a few weeks ago, when one day out of the blue, I started to have severe pain in my abdomen. I have had these pains before, and those pains had led me to a Hospital stay and the knowledge that I have a pancreatic mass that I will be carrying around with me forever (you can read all about that fun time here ). At the time I got the original diagnosis, I was told that if I followed the Doctor's instructions and took care of myself, I would not experience such pain again.

Well, big surprise, but I guess I didn't do so well following instructions and taking care of myself, because the pain was back, and it seemed worse than before. So I headed for my local emergency room, and, after it was established that I would be able to pay for treatment, I was pumped full of pain killers and left in a room to wait for further diagnosis. So I waited. And waited. And... Well I waited so long and the pain killers did their job so well that I didn't feel the need for further treatment. I detached the myriad of tubes connected to me went home. A stupid move? You bet! It didn't seem so at the time though: I felt great all weekend!

Me, heavily sedated, at the hospital staff's
request, I suspect

Then on Sunday, my Sister passed away. We held the wake on Tuesday and then prepared ourselves for her Funeral on Wednesday. It was going to be a bad day, but not for the reasons I expected.


Wednesday morning I awoke to find that my pain was back, and worse than ever. I tried to pull myself together  for the Funeral. I figured I could suffer through that, then head for the ER. Well, I couldn't, and was soon back at the same Hospital I had just so recently escaped from. The pain was so bad this time, and I was pumped up with such a dizzying array of drugs that I remember none of the next few days' events. Which is a good thing because according to Perfect Wifey (who had a front row seat to all this), I was not on my best behavior.

According to PW, in my altered state I, at various times:

• Was under the impression that I was a bad actor currently appearing in a B-Horror film, and I didn't think much of the crew (a.k.a. the Hospital staff).

• I thought I was staying at a vacation resort in Rhode Island. My Brother-In-Law said that it was with great pride that I pointed out how posh the bathroom was. It was a bucket in the corner.

• I told everyone around that at any moment now the 3 Stooges were coming for a visit.

Better get up soon. The Stooges will
be here any minute now!

I also tried to leave. A lot. So they finally had me restrained.

They also decided that what I officially had was a "Pancreatic Mass with a blockage in my bile duct". They would have to place a "stent" in there, but the procedure would have to be done at a Hospital in Boston, because they did not have the equipment for it there. On hearing of my behavior, I wonder if they really did have the equipment, but just wanted me outta there.

Whatever, off to Boston I went, to a Hospital that was actually the setting for the TV series "St. Elsewhere"!

"Commies?!"

At this Hospital,  they apparently didn't pay too much attention to the pain killer mix I had been given at the previous place, and gave me some of their own. My behavior got even worse. I was given a room that I shared with a very nice old man who was originally from Russia, along with his wife. I screamed my accusations that they were Communist Spies so loudly, I was finally given a room of my own.

Eventually, I was given the surgery and began to come around to "normal". After hearing about how badly I behaved, I felt terrible, and spent the rest of my stay apologizing to the staff. The "Communist Couple" had left, so I couldn't apologize to them. PW says not to worry about it though, as they felt sorry for me being so sick.

My adventures weren't completely over with, of course. In addition to the usual Hospital round-the-clock wake-ups to check my blood pressure, one morning I was woken at 4:30 AM so I could have my weight checked. Why they needed that info at that hour is something I never did find out.

Me as Fatty McButterpants.
Don't lift that jonny, if you
know what's good for ya!

I also almost got another room mate. I guess since I had started to behave myself, they decided to risk it. A crew was busily cleaning my room when a supervisor came in and told them to stop. They wouldn't need me to share my room after all, since my prospective roomie had died from their gun shot wounds! Boston Hospitals-YIKES! At my home town Hospital, the only reason you lose a room mate is because they foolishly walk out  of the Hospital because they get tired of waiting and they're idiots...

Also, since I had been so out of it and restrained for so long, I was fed by an IV drip. As a result of all that "nourishment" and inactivity, I gained 35 pounds, all in water weight, and all below the belt. I could barely move, and I guess it's gonna be a while until I am back to my "normal" weight and size. My legs and feet look like Fred Flintstone's. My slippers don't even fit!

So, my adventures in the world of medicine will continue for a spell. Not only do I have to lose all this weight (it's swimsuit season after all, and I wouldn't wanna disappoint the "ladies"), it turns out I need  one more surgery in August, so that they can put a "permanent" stent in. Why they didn't just put in a permanent stent to begin with I don't know. I'm just gonna do whatever they tell me to do and hope I recover ASAP!

And wait patiently for the 3 Stooges to show up.

UPDATE 7/3/2012-  I suppose some of you out there are wondering why there have been no more posts since I wrote the above. Well, a couple of days after posting, I awoke with a horrible burning pain in my left leg. It turns out I had developed an infection thanks to my previous "procedure", so it was back into the hospital for me.

Fortunately, the hospital I stayed at this time was far better than the previous one. The staff at this hospital actually got to the bottom of what was truly wrong with me, and put me on a plan that will eventually restore me to my former glory.

A strategically-placed giant cat insures the
patient won't roll off the couch.

Unfortunately, I had to stay in the hospital for two weeks (!) while they figured out my diagnosis. I also have to have another invasive procedure done on Thursday. I am home now though, and Riley and Rocco are just as attentive to my needs as any nurse at the hospital. Long story short: It may be awhile until you see any new posts from me. Fret not, though, I shall return, sooner or later with gobs of guffaws for your reading pleasure.

Now I gotta run. I have to make sure I have a clean johnny to wear on Thursday...

Sick of Being Sick!

Hello, Faithful Readers! Once again, I have let quite a bit of time pass between posts. Sorry about that, but this time I have a really good excuse. A legitimate, unarguable excuse.

I was sick. Really sick. We're talking "ride-to-the-emergency-room-in-an-ambulance" sick.

It started last week, when, all of a sudden, I was hit with a horrible pain in my abdomen. This pain was accompanied by, to put it politely, me puking my guts out. I was also sweating like a stevedore and shaking like a Mexican space shuttle. Now normally, I try to avoid going to the doctor, especially when I don't feel good, but these symptoms were too painful to ignore. So, off to the hospital I went.

I learned one thing from my stay  at the hospital: If you are sick, the hospital is the last place you want to be. If you already feel crummy, the hospital and its staff will make you feel even crummier. 

It starts when you arrive at the emergency room. Before any doctor examines you, someone from the finance office comes to examine your health coverage. If you somehow make it past this crucial exam you are wheeled in your gurney to an isolated spot in the hallway since, "all the examination rooms are full". Don't worry, though, "the doctor will see you shortly". I realize that "shortly" is a relative term to a hospital staff, since my wait was about an hour and a half. I'd hate to see what "a while" means to them.

After the doctor gave me a quick look-see, and (finally!) gave me something for the pain, I was wheeled into an exam room, and was forced to change into a rather revealing "johnny". These outfits are the great equalizer. Everyone, man or woman, young or old, feels like a complete fool in these  things. They do ensure that you stay in you bed, though. If you try to walk around in them, everyone you pass will get a nice peek at your "naughty bits". Not pretty.

After waiting around a bit (bit=1+ hour), I was told they were going to run some tests on me. I was stuck with all kinds of sticky plastic things that connected to  wires that were connected to monitors of some sort. I don't really know what these tests revealed, since the nurses said I would have to  ask the doctor, and I never did see the doctor again in the ER after our first brief encounter. Something must have been wrong with me though, because I was told I would be spending the night. I would be given a room, "as soon as one became available". One finally became available at 4 a.m. While I was glad  to finally have a bed to crash in, I was concerned that a room opened up for me at such a strange time. What had happened to the former occupant? Surely they didn't decide the patient was cured in the wee hours of the morning and checked them out. Did they pass away? Escape? I tried not to think about it.

So I finally had a place to sleep. If I could have slept, that is. Sure, my roommate (who was admitted for alcohol poisoning and was quite verbal about not wanting to go to rehab) was a tad noisy, but he was nothing compared to the nurses! All night long, blabbing in the hallways, banging carts and barging into your room at all hours and flipping on the lights. I have been in quieter kindergarten classes! I literally got no sleep.

Fortunately, they eventually discovered the source of my pain, and I was able to get the @#%* outta there and go home. Unfortunately, as of this writing, they are dragging their heels about what kind of treatment I should get.

Don't worry about me though, Dear Readers.  I feel pretty good today. Rocco the Wonder Dog and Perfect Wife are better nurses than the ones I had at the hospital. Hopefully, my health will return 100%, and I can begin to suppress the memories of the past week.

Unless I need a follow up  visit...