So – I would like to propose that we strike Wednesday, August 15 2007 from the history books. And maybe August 16, 2007, as well.
“Why?” you ask.
Ha! That’ll teach you to ask questions. Or something.
Tuesday didn’t suck. I went to yoga. Yoga was alright – it wasn’t very flowy, but the best instructors don’t usually work at gyms – they’re at yoga studios – so it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. I went home. The architect didn’t feel well and was kinda grumpy. I went to bed.
Wednesday started out innocently enough. I was asleep. Until about 3:30 am or so, when I was woken by the architect requesting that I drive him to the ER. It seems that he is in extreme pain, can’t stand upright, and is having trouble breathing. That was, quite possibly, the scariest moment of my life. This man didn’t want to go to the ER after his bike accident when there were pieces of his hand dangling in very unhand-like ways, and now he wants to go to the hospital? Now? In the middle of the night?
I’m still not sure how I managed to get dressed and ready to go so quickly, to make sure that we had everything we needed (wallets, purses, phones, insurance cards, etc.) and drive to the ER.
We got there just before 4 AM. But, I took him to the wrong one. The receptionist/check-in person made a pretty big deal about what a hassle it was going to be to get him checked in – she was going to have to do paperwork. I asked if it would maybe be better if I took him somewhere else, because I thought that bitching about the amount of paperwork was not getting him checked out any faster.
She huffed & sighed and we filled out the paperwork.
And then we sat.
At about 6 AM we got to go to a room.
At 6:30, the architect started to feel markedly better.
At 7, the doctor came to see him (up until this point, no one had looked at him, except to take the pre-admission vitals). Told him he probably was just having reflux, but they’d do a blood test anyway.
7:30, the nurse came to draw blood.
8:30 – we got the results. Liver function normal, but an elevated white count. Ultrasound was ordered.
9:30 – ultrasound person came.
10:30 – ultrasound results. One giant gallstone. The doctor thought surgery might be on the horizon.
11:15 – the ER doct decides to send the architect, by ambulance, to the hospital for emergecy gall-bladder removal.
11:16 – I start giggling.
11:30 – the Ambulance guys show up. Same two ambulance guys who transported me from the ER to the hospital for my emergency gall bladder surgery 7 months ago.
11:31 – I continue giggling.
then I went home and fed the cats, gathered up some of the architect’s personal belongings and grabbed lunch before heading to the hospital.
2 PM – We finally see the surgeons, who promptly inform us that they, being of the wrong insurance group, cannot operate on the architect, but that they will find someone who can. I settle in for a multi-hour wait.
2:30 (or maybe earlier) – the new surgeons arrive. Examine. Let us know that the ultrasound results did not arrive with the architect, and although they’re sure I got the report exactly right, they’d rather see the pictures themselves. Even though I am a medical expert (mother is a nurse, also, had my gall bladder removed at the SAME HOSPITAL seven months ago) I understand their feelings.
3:30 – They finally talk to the ER doc and decide that surgery is not necessary today, but is necessary very, very soon. The architect is put on a low-fat diet and released. The nurse who did the discharge was awesome, realized that the architect must be hungry, and fetched him a turkey sandwich (no mayo, no cheese).
5:30 – We get home.
8:30 – I stepped on and was stung by a yellow jacket.
I didn’t die, although I swore I would amputate my own foot before going back to the ER.
Today, there was much tiredness. And then? There was the going out to lunch. And I did not say, “Hey, I’m allergic to ‘shrooms.” Because sometimes I forget. And there were no ‘shrooms in any of the food items. HOWEVER, it seems that the food was cook with or near some, because then I got violently ill.
Still, I am not going back to the ER ever.
And now, this week just needs to be over.
The architect is perhaps having surgery sometime very soon, we just aren’t sure exactly when. He says he feels mostly fine, but (without going into detail) the way that the stone is situated leaves open the possibility that the extreme pain & trouble breathing can return at any time and we may still have to go the emergency route.
So – yeah. More fun than can be imagined. I would like to sleep for about 3 days and wake up when next week is here.