Some of you may have already heard that I went on a field trip to a local hospital this weekend. Although everyone I encountered was helpful and kind, I don’t recommend it.
The fun started on Saturday, when I was feeling blah, and decided to have some soup and a bagel. Which seemed fine. It stayed down and in, and was generally satisfying. But around 2 AM I knew something was wrong, and decided a bowl next to the bed might be a good plan. Smart choice. Within a half hour I had moved downstairs to the couch, closer to the bathroom, since I was hurling every half hour, among other…uh…things. Becky went to Walgreen’s for over the counter meds, which was wonderful of her, but they wouldn’t stay down. Around 6 AM she took me to the emergency room because I was quite dehydrated and loopy. I never know the day it is anyway, but the fact that they had to tell me what month it is kind of says a lot about my state of mind at that moment.
They wanted to do a CAT scan of my midsection, because I had stomach pains and they wanted to rule out a bad appendix and/or gall bladder. Which meant I had to force down cups upon cups of that vile contrast stuff. I promptly vomited it up right before my scan was scheduled, giving new meaning to the term “yawning in technicolor.” Of course that meant the contrast stuff had to be injected via “the other end,” which really wasn’t as horrible as they made it sound. Straight people are so touchy about the butt.
After that I was taken to the hospital by ambulance. I was installed in a room on the 21st floor. If I was nauseated before, I was then. I hate high buildings and elevators. Once in my room, though, all I did was sleep. However, a Fellini-esque cast of thousands kept waking me up every so often to take my vitals and poke around my stomach. A few of them were cute men, so I didn’t mind so much. In fact, one of my doctors was quite hot. I kept hearing Rhonda and Lindsey in my head saying, “A doctah you say?”
I felt infinitely better today, so they said I could go home if I kept my lunch and dinner down. Lunch was a clear liquid delight; broth, Jell-O, popsicle, apple juice. I ate everything but the apple juice, because apple juice and I have never been friends. It gives me headaches. Several movies and several naps later, I had dinner; chicken, rice, the most disgusting broccolli you’ve ever seen, a tiny salad and an equally tiny cherry pie, which immediately had me singing “Cherry Pie” by Warrant in my head. Yes, I was that stir crazy. I ate most of it and kept it down, and in, so they let my people (inside my head) go free. Becky picked me up and now I’ve been surrounded by dogs who can’t stop sniffing me. And Becky. =)
I’m still tired and a tad bit loopy, but I do feel a lot better. I’m sure as soon as the bills come, I’ll be hurling again in no time.