Day 156: I'm conquering this city with the living dead...
Don’t get me wrong, I respect doctors. I appreciate them. I understand the sacrifice they’ve made in their lives so that they can spend endless dozens of hours dealing with the worst moments in many people lives.
Beneath that respectable veneer, however, lurks the fact that they are, of course, just human.
And I may not be a doctor, but I am a researcher, and, by nature, I tend to keep a close eye on my own records. I go over my own details. I keep close eye on everything.
But, like a doctor, I’m not perfect. I’m just human. (51+% last time I checked!)
So, maybe, I’m in a lot of pain. Maybe I don’t go over my own records. Maybe I put my entire faith in someone else.
… and maybe, just maybe, that’s where the problem starts.
So, I take certain medication for the nausea. They’re pretty much essential to keeping me from vomiting up anything I eat. Without them I have pretty much zero hunger, and I can’t bring myself to actually masticate. Food is a disgusting, overly flavored, hideously scented that serves only to make me puke up my guts. So, of course, I take the medicine.
Now, let’s go back to the researcher thing. I keep all of my medications properly listed, always ready for a doctor, always prepared. I put my guard down, told them what I was on, and accepted some new medication.
Well, turns out you really can’t mix my nausea drugs with a painkiller they prescribed me.
Cut to about a day later: I’m not in good shape. I’m floppy, I’m overheated and, more importantly, I can’t piss. Nothing’s happening, and my bladder is getting painfully full. So I head to the emergency room; I’m quite familiar with a burst goddamn bladder. Or, god help me, a kidney infection. So off we go!
As you can imagine, they gave me a catheter.
Now, I’m familiar with them, but I’ve never actually had one before. So we do the whole “numbing agent” thing, they tell me this is going to be “uncomfortable” and off they go. It wasn’t too bad except for the “crunch” feeling at the end, and it was certainly a relief to watch that urine ride a rollercoaster loop of tubing out of my body.
So, all is well, right?
Fast forward to about 2 in the morning. I’ve been sent home with the catheter; I’ll wear it until Monday when I see a urologist. I get home, ready to awkwardly sleep with a bag strapped to my leg, when it starts. For the sake of completion, and due to the fact that I was pretty incapacitated, I’m just going to write it as I remember it:
PAIN. Major pain. Horrible, worst-in-my-life pain. I stumble into the bathroom to inspect their handiwork. I’m leaking. Not just leaking, but bleeding. Fever started to set in before I managed to even get to the bathroom. Suddenly I’m delirious with pain and fever. I remember going into the kitchen, unable to move, blazing with pain, and yelling for help. Then we were in a cab, and then we were in the ER. I was on the phone with the ER at one point. I wait, and they take me in. At this point I remember being drenched in sweat and in such pain all I can do is actually moan. I’ve been in a lot of pain, but not to the point where all I could do was vocalize uncontrollably. I remember leaning against the wall and my hand slipping because I was dripping sweat.
So they came in and a lot of delicate talk was made about how they apologize “for my discomfort” or how they’re “sorry for how I am feeling”. They were going to give me an IV, give me painkillers, give me something for the fever, and see where it went. Somehow (and I honestly think I may have drawn this) I told them to take the catheter out. We’ll see if I can pee and leave it be.
So they do. And I run to the bathroom with one of those hand-carried urinals and spray a foul mix of BURNING and BLOOD. At this point my memory gets a little better. I was suddenly freezing, soaked in sweat, and aware of the fact that I’m lugging around a giant kool-aid container of bloody urine.
Anyway, turns out that:
1) Should not have been given a new medication.
2) Catheter was put in improperly. In fact, it seems that I was the cherry-popper for some fresh-faced new employee. I hope they learned something from this, because I have:
Three days later and it still hurts to pee.
Beneath that respectable veneer, however, lurks the fact that they are, of course, just human.
And I may not be a doctor, but I am a researcher, and, by nature, I tend to keep a close eye on my own records. I go over my own details. I keep close eye on everything.
But, like a doctor, I’m not perfect. I’m just human. (51+% last time I checked!)
So, maybe, I’m in a lot of pain. Maybe I don’t go over my own records. Maybe I put my entire faith in someone else.
… and maybe, just maybe, that’s where the problem starts.
So, I take certain medication for the nausea. They’re pretty much essential to keeping me from vomiting up anything I eat. Without them I have pretty much zero hunger, and I can’t bring myself to actually masticate. Food is a disgusting, overly flavored, hideously scented that serves only to make me puke up my guts. So, of course, I take the medicine.
Now, let’s go back to the researcher thing. I keep all of my medications properly listed, always ready for a doctor, always prepared. I put my guard down, told them what I was on, and accepted some new medication.
Well, turns out you really can’t mix my nausea drugs with a painkiller they prescribed me.
Cut to about a day later: I’m not in good shape. I’m floppy, I’m overheated and, more importantly, I can’t piss. Nothing’s happening, and my bladder is getting painfully full. So I head to the emergency room; I’m quite familiar with a burst goddamn bladder. Or, god help me, a kidney infection. So off we go!
As you can imagine, they gave me a catheter.
Now, I’m familiar with them, but I’ve never actually had one before. So we do the whole “numbing agent” thing, they tell me this is going to be “uncomfortable” and off they go. It wasn’t too bad except for the “crunch” feeling at the end, and it was certainly a relief to watch that urine ride a rollercoaster loop of tubing out of my body.
So, all is well, right?
Fast forward to about 2 in the morning. I’ve been sent home with the catheter; I’ll wear it until Monday when I see a urologist. I get home, ready to awkwardly sleep with a bag strapped to my leg, when it starts. For the sake of completion, and due to the fact that I was pretty incapacitated, I’m just going to write it as I remember it:
PAIN. Major pain. Horrible, worst-in-my-life pain. I stumble into the bathroom to inspect their handiwork. I’m leaking. Not just leaking, but bleeding. Fever started to set in before I managed to even get to the bathroom. Suddenly I’m delirious with pain and fever. I remember going into the kitchen, unable to move, blazing with pain, and yelling for help. Then we were in a cab, and then we were in the ER. I was on the phone with the ER at one point. I wait, and they take me in. At this point I remember being drenched in sweat and in such pain all I can do is actually moan. I’ve been in a lot of pain, but not to the point where all I could do was vocalize uncontrollably. I remember leaning against the wall and my hand slipping because I was dripping sweat.
So they came in and a lot of delicate talk was made about how they apologize “for my discomfort” or how they’re “sorry for how I am feeling”. They were going to give me an IV, give me painkillers, give me something for the fever, and see where it went. Somehow (and I honestly think I may have drawn this) I told them to take the catheter out. We’ll see if I can pee and leave it be.
So they do. And I run to the bathroom with one of those hand-carried urinals and spray a foul mix of BURNING and BLOOD. At this point my memory gets a little better. I was suddenly freezing, soaked in sweat, and aware of the fact that I’m lugging around a giant kool-aid container of bloody urine.
Anyway, turns out that:
1) Should not have been given a new medication.
2) Catheter was put in improperly. In fact, it seems that I was the cherry-popper for some fresh-faced new employee. I hope they learned something from this, because I have:
Three days later and it still hurts to pee.