the rumney trip was awesome. spectacular. completely fucking amazing (I'll blog that part separately, me thinks)...
right up to the point where I landed in the hospital, that is.
a day or two in I had some pretty serious stomach cramping...but considering the conditions and my level of (PURELY BLISSFUL CLIMB-RELATED) exhaustion...I had a bagel, put the pain on the shelf and decided to keep an eye on it. kept climbing. wasn't leading my 9's like I would've liked (hesitation thy name is suki)...but climbing smart and balanced.
then I started pooing blood.
it took peggy, gino and oqui about 12 hours (several multi-pitch climbs later) to convince me to finally head to the hospital. not gonna lie...the feeling like death, inability to eat, fever, dehydration and pain didn't hurt in compelling me, either. I still wasn't worried, though. I was accused of being "tough", trying to be a hero, etc, etc...but in reality. I just wasn't concerned. i figured...ok. I'm a little sick. need some more water and sleep and OH FAN-FLIPPING-TASTIC...I blew a gasket in my butt. embarrassing, maybe...but(t) still, no worries.
I hate emergency rooms.
I hate emergency rooms like I hate Oprah. (bitch)
I hate emergency rooms like I hate G-dub-bush.
I hate emergency rooms like I hate strange fingers in my ass.
I hate emergency rooms ALMOST as much as I hate men who hit kids and women.
I hate emergency rooms like I hate black licorice.
I hate emergency rooms like I hate commercial television.
I hate emergency rooms like I hate thrash metal and tom green.
I hate emergency rooms...because you only go there when something bad happens :(
I hate emergency rooms.
because of recent pneumonia incident I knew what I was getting myself into when I finally decided to go. a bare ass...(minus the finger up it) in a shitty paper gown. cold room. uncomfortable girney. hard pillow and needles in my arm. I just didn't want to go that route...nothing heroic about it. quite frankly....I think I was being a pussy.
it went worse than I expected. they said I tested positive for blood in my stool (OBVIOUSLY - I just shat out a bucket-full)...and that I needed to be admitted.
NOW I was petrified. I can't really explain my reaction...other than to say sheer terror. i was hoping my symptoms would be minimized...negated or ignored, even so I could just go home. but doctor douchebag gave me the "this is serious" look...and I lost it. I can't tell you how glad I was that Oqui was there with me.
I acted like a little kid who needs stitches. I refused. told him I wanted to go home. I'd leave against medical advice. I pitched a fit and cried and shook for hours...I was tired. weak. scared. it finally hit me...tonight they could find something really wrong with me. I gave in.
I drank their iodine. I had the tests. I shook all night. occassionally a nurse or a tech tried to offer comfort...more often than not they offered drugs.
I refused the antibiotic (tendon rupture, anyone?)...only to be brow-beaten into taking it later...somehow without getting any further information out of them. irresponsible of me. completely wreckless and immoral of them.
its so fucking clear now (that I'm home) that everything they did to me to make me better made me feel worse. the dyes injected/ingested for the scan made me so sick I couldn't stand. the antibiotic made me nervous, uncoordinated, at risk for injury and scared. the needles petrified me. the cold chilled me...even the gown demoralized me.
I. hated. it.
a clear abdominal scan and 493 explosive iodine and cranberry induced poos later...he cleared me to travel home...with no idea what was wrong.
strange how...now that i'm here:
I'm not scared anymore.
I'm seeing my doctor later (no doubt to have more drugs pushed on me) for the sole purpose of making sure that I've done everything I can to rule out something seriously wrong (I wanna live. I love my daughter)...then I'm ignoring this whole fucking thing.
I'm done with allowing anybody to tell me what my body needs. I'm a woman. we have fantastic instincts...
and from now on, I'm going to trust them.
6 comments:
Yikes! I'm with you, I hate hate hate hospitals, emergency rooms and such. Just never good news.
Take care though. Unforetunately we all get sick and sometimes need to go.
oh shit. My friend Dan (the climbing friend who SAVED my life with good advise when I didn't know I had cancer) now lives near Rumney. I wish you called me, I would have called him for you!
I do realize we don't know each other IRL nor do we have phone numbers.
Go with instinct. And get all the tests to rule the bad stuff out. Eat a brazil nut every day. I'm serious.
You probably just have fishers. That is what I had when I shat blood. It was awesome.
Keep us posted.
maybe a torn something or other? dehydrated and pushing to go poopsters?
More seriously though, Too much Franken-berry makes your poopy pink, and boo-beery makes it blue,
If you take 2 centrum daily vitamins you'll piss neon green, but that's not a problem unless that color gets on your nerves, for me though that color green makes me crazy, so I stopped taking Centrums a long time ago...
Those original rasberry powerbars from the 1980's make your poop a maroon color, also eating alot of red licorice makes your poop a funny too, and we all know what asparagus does to your pee... duh...
heed your instincts & listen to your body...
It's probably just your ass getting back at you for calling it fat ;)
Get over yourself! The tests are done to find out what is wrong with you nothing more.
Were you expecting a magic wand to be waived and then *POOF*...a diagnosis?
Stop whining and be happy you have access to medical care.
Unbelievable!
oh, hey.
welcome to my blog. now kindly go fuck yourself.
this is a place for ME to express MY feelings, fears, concerns, etc. not PC central. can I bitch, whine and moan in here?
you betcha.
you don't like it?
this is ME not caring. YOU can kindly feel free to fuck off.
or at least have the balls to identify yourself.
Suki
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