OOWWWW Part 2
As I said in my last text post, I had a fabulous evening yesterday.
The little kitties that are living in the upstairs bathroom because they don't get along with the others (particularly Fluffy) were getting restless, so I allowed them to have a little run upstairs around the landing as a change of scenery and to get them out of my way so I could clean the litterbox (this action illustrates how much I have changed... prior to IOP, there would have been NO WAY IN HELL I would have even contemplated the cat box. However, Mom bought a littermaid recently, and that makes my cleaning up so much easier.). Abby went all the way downstairs and ended up trying to eat the downstairs cats' food. Cole was looking at her like, "Um, Abby? That's our food. I don't think you should be eating it." Max then stepped up and very clearly said something to the effect of, "GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY FOOD." I grabbed her and took her back upstairs to hang out with the other littles. Bob and Meg had a great time exploring the boxes that are unable to be in Sis' room due to size restrictions. Abby started to be very lovey. After about 30 minutes I decided to put them back up. Meg, the scaredy one, ran right in with no problem. Bob seemed pretty okay with going back in, too. Abby, however, was rebelling like crazy. Every time I put her in the room, she somehow turned around and bolted back out of the door before I could close it. I had grabbed her just as she left the room and was preparing to put her back for the third time...
...but she grabbed the carpet with all of her claws and I just couldn't get her up. I was bending over and pulling rather hard. I lost my balance. I would have been fine by just putting my right foot out to catch myself from falling. However, Abby had peed on the floor right where my foot went. My leg went out from under me and I dived very quickly toward the under-sink cabinets. I was moving so fast that I couldn't get my hands out to catch me in time. My the top of my head hit the edge of one of the cabinet doors so hard that I blacked out for a couple of seconds. I came to just before my face hit a pile of litter next to the box. OMG it hurt so much. The only person in the house was Sis, and I knew she was asleep. So I yelled and screamed hoping that my voice would carry enough to wake her and have her come upstairs to help me. It worked. She finally made it upstairs to check on me. By that time, I was getting really dizzy. She got my cell phone and called Mom at work to see what she thought. Mom decided to come home to assess me and decide whether or not I needed to go to the ER. I somehow made it downstairs (mostly by scooting on my butt) so that Sis could watch me and keep me awake while Mom was in transit. I tried to ice my head, but it hurt so much. Seriously, I was at a 10 on my pain scale. The last 10 I had was when I slammed my finger in my heavy car door, breaking it in the process. I was definitely thinking I had at least a concussion, and possibly a minor brain bleed because I started to have a headache that was getting worse and worse with each passing second.
Mom made it home and did a quick neuro exam on me. My pupils were equal and reactive. I had a giant goose egg on my head. My neck was tender and I was afraid that I had herniated a disc in my neck again. So we decided to go to the ER to get a cat scan to make sure I was okay. Unfortunately, I'm uninsured and thus have to use one of the free county-run hospitals. The closest one is a 40 minute drive downtown. I started to have problems speaking and breathing... words were coming more slowly to me than normal, and it was starting to hurt my back and ribs to breathe.
We got there, and had a difficult time with the security guard wanting Mom's driver's license to insure he'd get the wheelchair back. Then the stupid bitchy med techs who ran vital signs were such idiots. The triage nurse was even bitchier and totally didn't care that Mom was a nurse. At least I was taken back rather quickly. However, I was taken to the shock trauma unit first (the place where the seriously injured go), which meant Mom couldn't come with me. The attending physician was an idiot, thinking that I had just fainted. I explained that the lost of consciousness was AFTER I fell, not before. Idiot. He then saw the bruise starting to form on the top of my head and felt my neck to which I said a very loud OUCH, and he decided to put me in a cervical collar until they finished the CT and made sure my neck was okay. Then I was dealt with by a resident that was doing her first ER rotation. She had NO IDEA how to put a c-collar on, and thus grabbed the wrong size, didn't pull my hair up first and so trapped it uncomfortably underneath (it was pulling on my scalp which hurt), and then left it too loose for it to do much good. With a head trauma where there's a strong possibility of concussion, the thing you definitely want to do is keep the patient awake. However, the first thing she did was prescribe two vicodin and some nausea med. I thought that was weird, but I didn't seem to get to argue. After the CT, they put me in the main ER area instead of trauma to wait until the radiologist read the films. Mom was allowed to join me. It was awkward as HELL. Each space that is supposed to be for just one person is now supposed to accommodate at least two. Every time a nurse or doctor wanted to get close to a patient, they had to move the other gurneys over. I was stuck flat on my back, staring at the ceiling. The guy to my left was probably 500lbs and in congestive heart failure, among other things. He was on oxygen. However, the oxygen outlet was right above my head. That meant that the tubing draped right over my face. I was incredibly annoyed by this. The nurse was non-existent. So Mom finally kind of stuck it up around some other stuff so it wouldn't be right in my face. After two hours of waiting, the plastic at the back of my collar was poking the back of my head, and actually hurting worse than the place where I hit my head. They wouldn't let me sit up or adjust the collar or anything. I was starting to go mental. I couldn't sleep because I was in a lot of pain and it was very noisy. I started to get incredibly cranky. After my insistence that Mom stop being respectful of the staff while they did other stuff and just ask somebody to help, one of the residents came back with the news that he had looked at the films and he thought everything was okay, but that they couldn't discharge me until the radiologist posted his report. And that was maybe going to take another few hours. I yelled from my position toward the foot of the bed, "FUCK THAT. I WANT TO LEAVE." So Mom started discussing signing me out AMA (against medical advice) so I could finally go home. I yelled that all I wanted was a scrip for some vicodin and to get the hell home. He said he'd go do the paperwork and be back. About 10 minutes later, he came back saying that the report from the radiologist finally came back and everything was good, so I was clear to leave. I pushed for a vicodin scrip (Mom has this hangup that makes her think that it's not okay to ask for pain medication, and so she waits for doctors to suggest it, which never happens). He said no problem and he'd fix up the discharge paperwork. 20 minutes later, the nurse finally came by to help me sit up so I could sign papers to leave. I finally got the collar off. That felt SO GOOD OMG. I was finally able to stand and walk. Mom drove to the pharmacy to get my Rx filled, and then we finally got home. I was so glad to be home. I made it up the stairs and collapsed in bed.
This morning, I woke up with a ridiculously painful headache. The spot where my head hit the cabinet is bright red. I can't pull my hair into a ponytail because it pulls on my scalp. My hip and other places that landed on the bathroom tile are starting to bruise. I'm a mess, but I'm okay. Thinking back on it, the best description of the way I fell is a hip-level football tackle. That rushing forward and down angle.
Sis just asked if I wanted to go to IHOP. Um, NO. 1) My brain hurts. B) I'm dizzy and wouldn't be able to drive. 4) I will NOT deal with Sunday IHOP crowds. So instead, we're ordering Papa John's pizza. Mom hates their pizza, but we figure it's for us, so there's no problem.
Okay. I'm tired of sitting up and typing now. I hope everyone had a better Saturday than mine.
The little kitties that are living in the upstairs bathroom because they don't get along with the others (particularly Fluffy) were getting restless, so I allowed them to have a little run upstairs around the landing as a change of scenery and to get them out of my way so I could clean the litterbox (this action illustrates how much I have changed... prior to IOP, there would have been NO WAY IN HELL I would have even contemplated the cat box. However, Mom bought a littermaid recently, and that makes my cleaning up so much easier.). Abby went all the way downstairs and ended up trying to eat the downstairs cats' food. Cole was looking at her like, "Um, Abby? That's our food. I don't think you should be eating it." Max then stepped up and very clearly said something to the effect of, "GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY FOOD." I grabbed her and took her back upstairs to hang out with the other littles. Bob and Meg had a great time exploring the boxes that are unable to be in Sis' room due to size restrictions. Abby started to be very lovey. After about 30 minutes I decided to put them back up. Meg, the scaredy one, ran right in with no problem. Bob seemed pretty okay with going back in, too. Abby, however, was rebelling like crazy. Every time I put her in the room, she somehow turned around and bolted back out of the door before I could close it. I had grabbed her just as she left the room and was preparing to put her back for the third time...
...but she grabbed the carpet with all of her claws and I just couldn't get her up. I was bending over and pulling rather hard. I lost my balance. I would have been fine by just putting my right foot out to catch myself from falling. However, Abby had peed on the floor right where my foot went. My leg went out from under me and I dived very quickly toward the under-sink cabinets. I was moving so fast that I couldn't get my hands out to catch me in time. My the top of my head hit the edge of one of the cabinet doors so hard that I blacked out for a couple of seconds. I came to just before my face hit a pile of litter next to the box. OMG it hurt so much. The only person in the house was Sis, and I knew she was asleep. So I yelled and screamed hoping that my voice would carry enough to wake her and have her come upstairs to help me. It worked. She finally made it upstairs to check on me. By that time, I was getting really dizzy. She got my cell phone and called Mom at work to see what she thought. Mom decided to come home to assess me and decide whether or not I needed to go to the ER. I somehow made it downstairs (mostly by scooting on my butt) so that Sis could watch me and keep me awake while Mom was in transit. I tried to ice my head, but it hurt so much. Seriously, I was at a 10 on my pain scale. The last 10 I had was when I slammed my finger in my heavy car door, breaking it in the process. I was definitely thinking I had at least a concussion, and possibly a minor brain bleed because I started to have a headache that was getting worse and worse with each passing second.
Mom made it home and did a quick neuro exam on me. My pupils were equal and reactive. I had a giant goose egg on my head. My neck was tender and I was afraid that I had herniated a disc in my neck again. So we decided to go to the ER to get a cat scan to make sure I was okay. Unfortunately, I'm uninsured and thus have to use one of the free county-run hospitals. The closest one is a 40 minute drive downtown. I started to have problems speaking and breathing... words were coming more slowly to me than normal, and it was starting to hurt my back and ribs to breathe.
We got there, and had a difficult time with the security guard wanting Mom's driver's license to insure he'd get the wheelchair back. Then the stupid bitchy med techs who ran vital signs were such idiots. The triage nurse was even bitchier and totally didn't care that Mom was a nurse. At least I was taken back rather quickly. However, I was taken to the shock trauma unit first (the place where the seriously injured go), which meant Mom couldn't come with me. The attending physician was an idiot, thinking that I had just fainted. I explained that the lost of consciousness was AFTER I fell, not before. Idiot. He then saw the bruise starting to form on the top of my head and felt my neck to which I said a very loud OUCH, and he decided to put me in a cervical collar until they finished the CT and made sure my neck was okay. Then I was dealt with by a resident that was doing her first ER rotation. She had NO IDEA how to put a c-collar on, and thus grabbed the wrong size, didn't pull my hair up first and so trapped it uncomfortably underneath (it was pulling on my scalp which hurt), and then left it too loose for it to do much good. With a head trauma where there's a strong possibility of concussion, the thing you definitely want to do is keep the patient awake. However, the first thing she did was prescribe two vicodin and some nausea med. I thought that was weird, but I didn't seem to get to argue. After the CT, they put me in the main ER area instead of trauma to wait until the radiologist read the films. Mom was allowed to join me. It was awkward as HELL. Each space that is supposed to be for just one person is now supposed to accommodate at least two. Every time a nurse or doctor wanted to get close to a patient, they had to move the other gurneys over. I was stuck flat on my back, staring at the ceiling. The guy to my left was probably 500lbs and in congestive heart failure, among other things. He was on oxygen. However, the oxygen outlet was right above my head. That meant that the tubing draped right over my face. I was incredibly annoyed by this. The nurse was non-existent. So Mom finally kind of stuck it up around some other stuff so it wouldn't be right in my face. After two hours of waiting, the plastic at the back of my collar was poking the back of my head, and actually hurting worse than the place where I hit my head. They wouldn't let me sit up or adjust the collar or anything. I was starting to go mental. I couldn't sleep because I was in a lot of pain and it was very noisy. I started to get incredibly cranky. After my insistence that Mom stop being respectful of the staff while they did other stuff and just ask somebody to help, one of the residents came back with the news that he had looked at the films and he thought everything was okay, but that they couldn't discharge me until the radiologist posted his report. And that was maybe going to take another few hours. I yelled from my position toward the foot of the bed, "FUCK THAT. I WANT TO LEAVE." So Mom started discussing signing me out AMA (against medical advice) so I could finally go home. I yelled that all I wanted was a scrip for some vicodin and to get the hell home. He said he'd go do the paperwork and be back. About 10 minutes later, he came back saying that the report from the radiologist finally came back and everything was good, so I was clear to leave. I pushed for a vicodin scrip (Mom has this hangup that makes her think that it's not okay to ask for pain medication, and so she waits for doctors to suggest it, which never happens). He said no problem and he'd fix up the discharge paperwork. 20 minutes later, the nurse finally came by to help me sit up so I could sign papers to leave. I finally got the collar off. That felt SO GOOD OMG. I was finally able to stand and walk. Mom drove to the pharmacy to get my Rx filled, and then we finally got home. I was so glad to be home. I made it up the stairs and collapsed in bed.
This morning, I woke up with a ridiculously painful headache. The spot where my head hit the cabinet is bright red. I can't pull my hair into a ponytail because it pulls on my scalp. My hip and other places that landed on the bathroom tile are starting to bruise. I'm a mess, but I'm okay. Thinking back on it, the best description of the way I fell is a hip-level football tackle. That rushing forward and down angle.
Sis just asked if I wanted to go to IHOP. Um, NO. 1) My brain hurts. B) I'm dizzy and wouldn't be able to drive. 4) I will NOT deal with Sunday IHOP crowds. So instead, we're ordering Papa John's pizza. Mom hates their pizza, but we figure it's for us, so there's no problem.
Okay. I'm tired of sitting up and typing now. I hope everyone had a better Saturday than mine.