There is a fire raging around us. We had fleas, a fly infestation, and this morning our office ceiling leaked on us.
I give up.
There is a fire raging around us. We had fleas, a fly infestation, and this morning our office ceiling leaked on us.
I give up.
It started with my son.
“Well Mom, girls make me kind of tingly.”
Then moved on to my daughter as we watched yet another Brooke Sheilds commercial.
“Mom, she’s prettier than us.”
And I died a bit inside.
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.
I had to head to UCLA today for a test that involved me eating an egg salad sandwich sprinkled with radiation.
It was disgusting.
But that wasn’t the most interesting part of my day. As it turns out, despite telling the kids 40 times I was *only* going to the doctor and would be back…they were afraid I would be hospitalized again and NOT come home.
Mom not coming home is scary. Mom not coming home makes small children cry. Mom not coming home means that right now, as I type this, two small bodies are stuck to me like glue.
I have to head back down to UCLA tomorrow for more tests and I am doing my best to reassure them I will be home after they are through…but I’m afraid what the doctors will find and if it will mean another hospital stay.
I’m not sure this house could take it.
As I await surgery, or further medication, or…whatever it is that will happen to me…I’m stuck on the couch and in bed.
That means all I can currently do is watch the news and shake my head. People are freaking out over health care reform and acting like idiots.
You heard me…acting like idiots.
Is it that hard for us to have a civilized debate about an issue around here? And can we at least TRY to keep that issue on track? (yes, crazy wing-nuts taking about death panels and killing grandparents and shit that just isn’t true…I’m looking at you) .
There are real issues that need discussion here. And like it or not, your “evil” representatives are holding these town halls so you can talk with them. Not scream at them, not grand stand for the cameras, but talk with them and help craft solutions.
Yes, solutions. Which means…there is a problem that needs a solution.
I have health insurance. I’m very lucky. But I just went through red-tape insanity to get diagnosed with my current ailments and am continuing to go through red-tape insanity to get my surgery scheduled. All while trying to get second opinions and fill prescriptions and TRY to make sense of what doctors are telling us.
After 5 days in the hospital I can say without a doubt our system can be improved. For those with insurance, for those without insurance, for EVERYONE.
If you can honestly sit there and say there is zero room for improvement, if our health care system just ROCKS YOUR SOCKS OFF, then you are living in a much different world than I. And maybe you need to borrow that unicorn of mine.
If you want to get into the semantics of this bill, of this particular reform…then sure- Let’s have at it. But I am talking the REAL particulars of the bill…not the fake shit you saw in some Fox News report or in some email your Aunt sent.
If you are just angry. Angry that your lost your job, angry that you can’t pay your bills, angry that a black man is President…then do us all a favor and shut up. You are embarrassing us. You have taken what was supposed to be open and honest and FRANK discussion about health care and turned it into a circus worthy of reality television. I get that you are totally worked up over life. And how shitty it is that Democrats are in control. I GET IT. But save your moaning and complaining for the proper forum. This is about HEALTH CARE. So let’s talk about HEALTH CARE.
I want to talk about health care. Do you?
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:
Erin Kotecki Vest also blogs at Queen of Spain blog
Monday afternoon I ended up in the emergency room. It’s Friday, and I’m still in the hospital.
Clearly not the way my week was supposed to go.
I should be having surgery Saturday at noon to remove my gall bladder. We shall see. In the meantime, thanks to everyone for your well wishes. ***UPDATED**** 8/7/09 and I have been sent home from the hospital WITHOUT SURGERY. They ran a few more tests Friday and found some new things, making them want to explore further before cutting. I will undergo an out-patient test next week and then possible surgery after***
More when I can string more than a paragraph together without slurring.
Family is hard.
We’re in West Virginia visiting and I think we’ve fought 90% of the trip. Granted, we were recently in Detroit and we fought there too.
Several weeks of family and I’m realizing the stark differences in the way my husband and I were raised and what we find “normal.”
For instance, in Detroit my mother would happily give my kids cake for breakfast. To me- this is entirely normal.
Going on a boat ride with my uncle, where he has a beer and the kids sit in ill fitting life jackets- totally normal.
Here in WV, my son touched a gun, was shown the closet where guns are kept, and family wants to take him for a very slow ride up the mountain in the back part of a pick up truck. My husband thinks this is all normal.
To me, it’s not only abnormal, but unsafe.
Family. Is. Hard.
I feel like I am a visitor in a foreign land and every time I question or shake my head at a “custom” I am told I have disrespected the elders. Apparently I don’t “trust” and should just let things go.
I spend my visits here usually in a semi-state of panic the entire time. Because if I open my mouth I’m distrusting and rude, and if I keep it closed my kids are put in situations I, as their mother, am uncomfortable with.
I am the mean helicopter mom. I am the party pooper. I’m the big jerk who thinks family would put her kids lives in danger.
It’s a complicated conversation here. And there are no winners.
It’s not as if I seek out to ruin their “traditions” or fun, or they seek to make me have panic attacks and fill me with anxiety.
It just is.
I can see why this country is so very deeply divided just by visiting other parts and talking to people who live very different from myself. It’s not as simple as “what you believe” and what I believe. It’s strangers in a strange land. It’s cultural. It’s akin to showing up in China and expecting nothing but hamburgers and apple pie.
I’m doing my best to be respectful and thankful that my children get to experience many different cultures. However it is hard.
I do not understand the way of life here just as easily as I don’t understand the way of life in Iran or China. That doesn’t mean the Iranians and Chinese aren’t amazing people, with amazing lives and stories and traditions.
I’m stepping out of my comfort zone today to go camping. In the rain. I expect to encounter about a million things my husband finds “normal” and I don’t. I expect to have anxiety, I expect to be unhappy. I also expect I will have a good time. Hopefully.
Family. Is. Hard.
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