Hello. I am back. Well Sorta. I have just spent almost a week in and out of the hospital and I finally got my computer back after two trips to Apple Hossy. As we know I am a nurse and I work in a little microcosm of Obamacare wet dream (OWD). I have the HMO insurance and all I can say is you are guilty until proven innocent. It is a good idea in theory but a nightmare if you actually need to use it. I am physically and mentally exhausted from the experience. Everywhere you go, you take a ticket and wait like a good, patient cow in line for the slaughter. "MOOOO" Today is day seven of nausea, dry heaves and abdominal pain. After waiting several 8 hour days of testing it turns up that I am probably just experiencing a freak of nature phenomenon. I am still terrified I have an appendix issue but now I am prescribed sitting around and waiting. Oh and apparently I have a hidden appendix because they can't see it with first CT. Pretty sure no one ever took it. There is inflammation around it but no actual appendix. On second CT they can see a bit of it smashed between the cecum and my large, fibroidous uterus and it looks ok. Maybe the poor SOB is suffocating.
Whatever. Well I am having a thyroidectomy 4/27/11 for probable cancer. That has not made me a happy Bean partially because it is cancer and mostly because of OWD. Therefore, I am finding myself in an unusual state of mind. Stunned silence. I am not as freaked out about the cancer thing as I am about my Exorcist nausea. As usual though, my adventures in the OWD were rich in ridiculous. I have been poked and prodded by way too many residents to remember. They stand around the bed and stare at you like a piece of meat they may be lucky enough to hack into, in order to enhance their career in butchering/surgery. It reminded me of an episode of Grey's Anatomy but with out all of the doctors emptying bedpans and starting IVs. That would never happen.
I got locked in an exam room during a tornado drill. It was kind of scary because I really thought it was a tornado. This freaked out sounding lady kept stating over and over on the loud speaker "This is a TORNADO ACTION!" The staff went around and slammed all of the doors shut. I happened to be in a treatment room that they normally keep locked because it had a lot of supplies in it. They could not get the door open because they couldn't find the right key. It was all very surreal. I did escape after peeling my sick, sore self off of the table and jiggling the door handle until it opened.
Yesterday I got a call to go to get an urgent CT because my white blood cells had elevated. I had to drink a liter of chalk juice that vaguely resembled a musty, pina colada flavor. Just what a dry heaving, totally in pain person wants to do. Chug chalk. MMMM. Hallelujah, thank the Lord, Amen for Zofran. This process takes 2 hours. '
During that time my waiting room comrades consisted of a whiny old lady that felt the need to verbalize every obvious observation she came across. "Oh look that poor lady has a wheel chair." "Gene Simmons is from KISS." "It sucks to have to drink that (contrast, said around times 50)" "I have been here since 9 A.M. (also 50 times or so.)" Me- "SHUT UP ALREADY!!!"
I had a stringy haired, stink bomb man with no underpants and a hospital gown sit right next to me and proceed to hack and cough all over me. If I had the strength he would have been on the wrong end of my kick boxing skillz.
I had, at one point, a prisoner sitting across from me giving me a hefty dose of stink eye. Asshat! All I could think was he was scheming going all Charles Manson on me.
The best was a jovial and nice looking black kid who was flirting with me!!!! First of all, do I look like Mrs. Robinson or like I am on Cougars? NO. I am dressed in the *closest I get to sweats *, hair looked like it was styled with my electric mixer, make up, NOT, with a beet red face and enough eye luggage for a month long trip to Europe. Not to mention my son left me with front butt that I in no way tried to hide. FOR REAL? LOL, poor kid. All I can say is he is either an angel or needs some self esteem therapy.
I go into the CT scan and they start an IV. The tech says "I am starting the IV contrast now." Just then I feel a squirt in my ear, down my face, and in my hair of warm, sticky fluid. The IV was not screwed in and the whole lot of fluid is now swirling around my head because they had me put my arms above my head. The good part is that it was nice and sticky and could be used for a substitute hair product. Oh happy joy, maybe I can go hit on that boy now. RAWR!
I figured I would eek out something for my blog due to the fact that I can not move without coming face to face with the dry heaves. Yeah go ahead. Now is the time I will flat out say join my pity party. I will make contrast coladas for all.
<3,
Jilly
**I HATE SWEATS. I would rather burst into flames than be caught wearing sweats. The outfit was Nike pants and a t-shirt.
Whatever. Well I am having a thyroidectomy 4/27/11 for probable cancer. That has not made me a happy Bean partially because it is cancer and mostly because of OWD. Therefore, I am finding myself in an unusual state of mind. Stunned silence. I am not as freaked out about the cancer thing as I am about my Exorcist nausea. As usual though, my adventures in the OWD were rich in ridiculous. I have been poked and prodded by way too many residents to remember. They stand around the bed and stare at you like a piece of meat they may be lucky enough to hack into, in order to enhance their career in butchering/surgery. It reminded me of an episode of Grey's Anatomy but with out all of the doctors emptying bedpans and starting IVs. That would never happen.
I got locked in an exam room during a tornado drill. It was kind of scary because I really thought it was a tornado. This freaked out sounding lady kept stating over and over on the loud speaker "This is a TORNADO ACTION!" The staff went around and slammed all of the doors shut. I happened to be in a treatment room that they normally keep locked because it had a lot of supplies in it. They could not get the door open because they couldn't find the right key. It was all very surreal. I did escape after peeling my sick, sore self off of the table and jiggling the door handle until it opened.
Yesterday I got a call to go to get an urgent CT because my white blood cells had elevated. I had to drink a liter of chalk juice that vaguely resembled a musty, pina colada flavor. Just what a dry heaving, totally in pain person wants to do. Chug chalk. MMMM. Hallelujah, thank the Lord, Amen for Zofran. This process takes 2 hours. '
During that time my waiting room comrades consisted of a whiny old lady that felt the need to verbalize every obvious observation she came across. "Oh look that poor lady has a wheel chair." "Gene Simmons is from KISS." "It sucks to have to drink that (contrast, said around times 50)" "I have been here since 9 A.M. (also 50 times or so.)" Me- "SHUT UP ALREADY!!!"
I had a stringy haired, stink bomb man with no underpants and a hospital gown sit right next to me and proceed to hack and cough all over me. If I had the strength he would have been on the wrong end of my kick boxing skillz.
I had, at one point, a prisoner sitting across from me giving me a hefty dose of stink eye. Asshat! All I could think was he was scheming going all Charles Manson on me.
The best was a jovial and nice looking black kid who was flirting with me!!!! First of all, do I look like Mrs. Robinson or like I am on Cougars? NO. I am dressed in the *closest I get to sweats *, hair looked like it was styled with my electric mixer, make up, NOT, with a beet red face and enough eye luggage for a month long trip to Europe. Not to mention my son left me with front butt that I in no way tried to hide. FOR REAL? LOL, poor kid. All I can say is he is either an angel or needs some self esteem therapy.
I go into the CT scan and they start an IV. The tech says "I am starting the IV contrast now." Just then I feel a squirt in my ear, down my face, and in my hair of warm, sticky fluid. The IV was not screwed in and the whole lot of fluid is now swirling around my head because they had me put my arms above my head. The good part is that it was nice and sticky and could be used for a substitute hair product. Oh happy joy, maybe I can go hit on that boy now. RAWR!
I figured I would eek out something for my blog due to the fact that I can not move without coming face to face with the dry heaves. Yeah go ahead. Now is the time I will flat out say join my pity party. I will make contrast coladas for all.
<3,
Jilly
**I HATE SWEATS. I would rather burst into flames than be caught wearing sweats. The outfit was Nike pants and a t-shirt.
Oh so sad, but I am so glad you have a sense of humor. I am glad you clarified the sweats thing, I was worried for a second:)
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