I underwent two tests at UCLA today. They both sucked pretty hard core and one continues to suck, as you can tell by the photo above.

I’ll talk more about them later this week here and at BlogHer…right now I just want to eat some soup and cry.

The hot water and soap doesn’t seem to be enough to pull this glue and tape residue from my skin.

I smell like hospital and I’m showering and showering to make the stink go away. 5 days of needles. 5 days of injections. 5 days of IV lines collapsing and x-rays and cat scans and scopes and doctors.

If I can just make the water hotter or the washcloth a bit more rough maybe I can scrub these circular lines where the cardiac monitors went off of my chest and stomach.

The kids don’t need to see these lines. Or the bandages or the bruises. My 4 and 6-year olds clung to their father, more than tentative, when they entered my hospital room for the first time. Petrified of what they saw. My youngest couldn’t…wouldn’t…leave her Dad’s lap. Afraid to kiss and hug her own mother.

So I’m scrubbing these in the shower with all I have.

Monday is when my body fell apart. It had enough of my “waiting” for help. Monday, the day before I was supposed to start testing for my symptoms, my body revolted.

My brother drove me to the ER after hours of vomiting and bleeding and a horrible headache. Perhaps a rash decision on my part, but I could tell I was dehydrated and things were not getting better.

After taking down my symptoms and history, it was clear the ER doc wasn’t going to let me go home. And thus began 5 days in Henry Mayo Newhall Memorial and every test imaginable.

All those scopes I was going to blog about? We did them. They hurt and I wasn’t knocked out enough, but we did them. I drank a gallon of some horrible liquid and pooped for the entire night beforehand. Then I was “sedated” lightly and put on my side where I bit down on a block. They shoved a hose with a camera through that block and I gagged. I gagged like crazy. They pulled that hose out and shoved another up my ass. This didn’t hurt until they rolled me onto my back and started pressing my stomach. I yelled. I cried. Then I woke up in a recovery room.

They also did an ultrasound. A cat scan. And an x-ray test that went for 3 hours and involved me drinking some horrible milkshake type liquid.

I was told I have: diverticulosis, gall stones, gastritis, hiatal hernia, severe reflux, inflammation, hemorrhoids, oh…and a migraine.

Every single test they did at the hospital found…something.

They scheduled surgery to remove my gall bladder for Friday. But after most tests decided to reschedule for Saturday. They were sure the gall stones were causing my nausea. Maybe.

As I moved to a third hospital room, and mentally prepared for the next day’s surgery, the doctor arrived.

He had that look on his face that I knew would send my eyebrows up. We’ve delt with this doctor for 5 days now and he was getting used to our questions and our demand for service, answers, etc. I even gave him questions from my twitter friends. He was amused and annoyed by me all at once.

With a slight grin he told me they were canceling surgery for Saturday. The latest test needed further study. They didn’t want to remove my gall bladder and still have me sick or worse yet…they didn’t want to go back in a few weeks later to surgically repair my reflux.

…and since I was medicated, and the new tests were at another facility, I could go home and wait.

Go home? What?

Here I was scheduled for surgery in the morning and suddenly I’m packing my things? They had been injecting me with morphine, dilaudid, and every other pain med and …wham…time to go home?

The doctor gave me a small pharmacy, strict orders to rest, and said they would schedule my studies for next week. Then we’ll talk surgery. Probably a one time laparoscopy that would take out my gall bladder and repair my reflux all at once.

I can’t believe after months upon months of puking and bleeding…it comes down to a gall bladder and some reflux. I can’t decide if I am relieved or embarrassed. If I am annoyed, upset, happy?

The radiologist did say it was the worst case of adult reflux he’s ever seen. That made me feel warm and fuzzy. And when asked how many gall stones we were told “OMG a ton.”

The worst reflux ever and a ton of gall stones. Yeah, that explains all the dinners I’ve thrown up and the mornings where breakfast didn’t exactly make it to my stomach. And coupled with everything else it found, it also explains 5 days in the hospital. My body had given up. Despite the tests I had scheduled, it was DONE. Pissed off and ready for relief.

And relief came by way of large doses of medication and many needles. Not the way I should have taken care of myself, and I’m still playing catch up.

I did, as is me, make some friends during my stay. There is a weird little community in a hospital that took me a few days to crack, but was fun once I did. The guys in radiology and the transporters rock. By the end of my stay they were teasing me with chili cheese fries and sneaking me my phones. They even let the kids in to one of my tests to watch on the screen as my insides were lit up for the doctor.

I spent time showing some nurses BlogHer and talked health care while they worked. We watched Twitter go by as the US Journalists were freed from North Korea and we hugged. They snuck me the good food trays and complained about other patients to me. The ones that come back weekly.

But here, at home, at least I can sit on the couch and watch the kids play. I remain medicated and uncomfortable, but at least I’m no longer tethered to a line while the kids watch in horror.

A new hospital will be conquered next week, but only for a test. Then the rescheduling of a surgery which will entail…well, we shall see. My Mom has flown in from Florida to help as I take off yet more work and arrange for yet more child care. And hopefully put back together this ailing body that I neglected for way too long.

If anything good has come of this entire ordeal, it’s that other people have started talking health care and their own health related issues. Make sure to go read:

Momocrats

Red Stapler

Francine Hardaway

MoeArt

Erin Kotecki Vest also blogs at Queen of Spain blog

crossposted at BlogHer.com

It’s after midnight here in Michigan, where I am visiting with friends and family. Surrounded daily by love and attention and support.

So why am I awake and crying?

Because for many months I’ve been hiding my health issues. Ok, maybe hiding isn’t the best word. But since about …oh, last year Christmas I’ve failed to mention to you – the people whom I tell EVERYTHING- that I’ve been sick.

So tonight I’m awake and crying because yet ANOTHER symptom has appeared in this long and exhausting road of “I’m getting old and my body sucks.”

Tonight my mouth is covered in sores (sexy, I know…stay with me it gets sexier) after months of vomiting and several weeks of rectal bleeding.

Yes, I said rectal bleeding. And get used to it, because I’m going into more detail.

You see, back when I was *just* feeling sick and puking ocassionally, I didn’t bother to see my doctor. After all, I’m a puker. Two glasses of wine? Puke. Nasty smell coming from the trash? Puke. Weather turns and it’s cold and I don’t have a jacket? Puke (I’m not kidding, the cold makes me puke).

Then this started happening more and more often. Sometimes just a gag. Sometimes just in the morning like I was pregnant or something (no, I’m not) and sometimes just over-all nausea with zero puke…I thought, huh, that’s weird. Oh well.

And I went on with my normal life.

I saw many of you as I traveled, and threw up in your conference hall bathroom. I went out with many of you to dinner, and threw up in the restaurant’s toilet. I even walked down some streets with some of you after a night of fun and drinks, and threw up in a trash can while you weren’t looking.

For some reason, I thought this was fine. For some reason, I did not call my doctor. For some reason, life just went on.

Until…

I didn’t see my doctor until one day I went to the bathroom and instead of pooping a blood clot came out. Then another. And then a few more.

Then the next day it happened again. And the next day…again.

Nothing can get you calling your doctor faster than blood coming from places it shouldn’t.

It was 2 weeks before I could get an appointment, and the nice nurse said “well, you know, if it gets worse feel free to go to the ER…”

Uh, thanks.

Of course that doctor had to refer me to another doctor who had to refer me to one more. They ran the usual test. Blood work was fine. Urine was fine. And that’s when you start to think YOU are the crazy one and maybe this all just is normal and life should just go on and you should quit your bitching.

Then finally we had a test that came back abnormal.

It was a fun one. The doctor stuck his hand up my ass- the rectal exam.

That test confirmed I was bleeding. It wasn’t much to go on, but hey…at least we were getting somewhere.

From there I saw the Gastro doc, who looked at me and my chart and my tests and my symptoms for all of 3 minutes before ordering two rather invasive procedures. I didn’t argue. When you are bleeding out your ass and feeling sick, you just don’t argue.

Mind you, the soonest I get to have any of these tests done is August. Because nothing says “health care in the US sucks” like waiting 6-8 weeks for tests you could probably use yesterday.

As the weeks drag on and the tests are done and we wait for results…I still feel like crap. Of course, on again, off again feel like crap. Some days I’m puking, some I’m just quesy. Some days I’m bleeding a little, some days I’m not bleeding at all. Some days I feel fantastic and consider canceling all the tests ordered.

Then there are days like today. I just threw up in my cousin’s bathroom, put canker sore medicine in 6 different spots in my mouth, and wiped my ass to find pink and red dots.

When I finished, throat raw, mouth numb, and ass hurting…I sat down on this bed and began to cry and write.

I cry because I’m tired, and I cry because I don’t know what I’m dealing with. I cry because I’m afraid it’s something simple, like an infection or some “stress” induced illness. I cry because I’m afraid it’s something not so simple, like Celiacs or Crohn’s or Cancer. But mostly…I cry because I’m really freaking tired of feeling like crap, and I’d like that to go away now…please.

Which leads me to why I am finally blogging about this…and why I hesitated to tell you.

First of all…do many people really want to say “Hey, so…guess what…I’m sick and bleeding out my ass!!!” to the entire world? Yeah, not so much. Also, I didn’t know what to tell you. For all I know it’s all in my head and I have a bad ‘roid from pregnancy flared up and pissed off. Sarah knows what I mean, she recently blogged about having a colonoscopy and had the same hesitations I did,

“I’ve been having some strange digestive issues of late (last couple of years) and finally there’s started to be a small (very small) amount of blood so the docs want to check it out (obviously). It’s funny because no one ever talks about this subject, but once you open the door, everyone has some stories. How can one not laugh at it all though.”

But as time marches on, and more and more tests are ordered, I realize it’s been this community that tends to remind me I am not alone and that they too may have some information or knowledge to share.

Over at Post Cards from Yo Momma I found this gem:

“Dad took me to lunch afterwards. All in all, the procedure itself was a breeze. I just wish that bitch with the needle had told me how much it would burn. They did warn me I might feel light headed after the IV meds kicked in, but that turned out to be a sensation I found surprisingly enjoyable. I bet my hiney was the cutest one all day.”

I bet my hiney is cute too!

I also bet it won’t be the one shaking it’s ass ontop of a table at BlogHer.

Yes, this means at BlogHer ’09 in Chicago I won’t need to hide. I won’t try to quietly puke in the bathroom if I need too, and I won’t need to explain to you why I may or may not be having that 2nd glass of wine. If I get up at lunch or dinner or breakfast and excuse myself I can actually say “I don’t feel well” not “I have a phone call, let me take it outside.” It will be nice to NOT hide.

Which means from here on out you get to join me in my journey. It might be too much to hear…I mean, really- who WANTS to know that much about my ass and my bowels? Or it may be just what was needed, because you too have had similar symptoms or you too know someone also undergoing some tests.

On August 4th I’ll be sedated and doctors will drop a camera down my throat and into my stomach to look around.

On August 11th I’ll be sedated and a colonoscopy will be performed.

And I’m going to tell you ALLLLL about it. From the prep to the diagnosis and all the whining and complaining I will do in between (because you know I will).

In a few weeks I will blog my endoscopy. Then I will blog the prep for my colonoscopy (which, dude…clear liquids, enemas, drinking gallons of some crappy mixture..all accounts indicate it’s hell) and then the procedure itself.

By the end I hope to have some answers, and if not…at least I’ll have you.

Other bloggers talking stomachs, butts, and gastro excitement:

Fatty Kathy’s Weight Loss

KMae Today

Tears N Tantrums

Celiac Chicks

Contributing Editor Erin Kotecki Vest also blogs at Queen of Spain blog