(no subject)
Here is a follow-up to my last infamous story regarding the lizard in my chest and my encounter with Della Reese.
Last night around 9pm as I was deciding how long to cook my macaroni-and-cheese-noodles, I began to have some slight heartburn. I ignored it, as I often have a little gas in my chest and eating usually does not do anything to neither improve nor qualm this discomfort. So I sat down to the American Idol Results show and began to eat my macaroni. I took a few bites, but the heartburn (as it would be described at that time) was worsening. I mentioned to Brandon that I had heartburn and I calmly went to the bathroom. The pain was quickly worsening, pressing in on my chest and traveling to my back. I was bent over the bathtub, trying to find a position in which breathing would be possible. I was aware that the noises I was making in response to my pain were not conducive to positive actions in anyone's ears-most specifically, Tricia and Brandon.
Amidst my severe discomfort and cacophony of "oh gods," I could hear Tricia and Brandon giggling that I was either pleasuring myself to no end or making a joke about the size or breadth of my bowels.
When they realized the noises resembled pain more than pleasure, they began to ask me if I was okay and if I needed anything. To this my pain had no way to respond but to say, "shut up." I am not one to readily accept the doting of others, so I assure you that I was trying my hardest to subdue my utterances of pain, but nonetheless they were still far from quiet. I guess it was for this reason that Tricia and Brandon decided to take me to the ER.
Brandon so graciously bent over to pick up my dropped Gas-X pills for me (not to pick up the soap), and also retrieved my sweatpants and purse and bent down yet again to put Tricia's green clunk-of-a-dork shoes on my feet. All this while Tricia pulled up the car and called Rob, the dutiful boyfriend.
We drove to the ER with yet again, noises coming from me that did not sound short of pleasure. Here is a sample: "Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god. Press right there. Harder. Oh god. Oh god. Ow. Don't stop. Oh god." This, of course, was all discussed as an after-word to the entire situation. The "don't stops" were in response to Robert pressing on my back, which alleviated pain in both my chest and back. I think the general consensus was that I was having a heart attack.
Of course, the pain stopped immediately upon arrival to the ER.
We checked in and waited.
Got my vitals and registered and waited some more.
The total waiting time for the entire trip to the ER equaled 6 hours. Approximately 10pm to 4am.
The doctor decided we would do an EKG of my heart, a chest X-ray, a blood and urine sample, and an ultrasound. The EKG was fun; I got to get little stickers all over my body and cords and clamps all over, not to mention an embarrassing "tucked sweatpants" situation.
The chest X-ray was fun too. I got to place my hands on a Spongebob sticker and an endearing sticker beholding four charming cats, all at the same time.
The urine sample was NOT fun.
The blood sample involved a very tight tourniquet and nurse with some spice in her step, who greatly adored the veins in my right arm but not the left.
The aforementioned results came back perfectly fine, despite slightly high liver enzymes. But just "a touch." "And I mean, a TOUCH. Nothing to hang your hat on."
The ultrasound was mediocre. The warm jelly felt cool, but I think the nurse was trying to secretly punish me by pressing so hard on my rib cage.
Nearly two hours later, we received the results that I have gall stones. Several of them, that probably require surgery. I have an appointment with a surgeon: "A nice grandpa type guy that gives a lot of hugs" next week. The ER doctor seemed to be leaning toward surgery.
In the meantime, I am on a very low-fat diet (meaning no more than 3 teaspoons a day).
The gall bladder stores and released bile in order to digest fat. With no fat in my system, my gall bladder has little to do and therefore the "pebbles" (as Brandon has dubbed my new nickname-and Bob, "Bam Bam") have no reason to get riled up within the gall bladder and no reason to lodge itself within a bile tract, which is what occurred last night. Symptoms can resemble heart attacks and if untreated can include constant pain, nausea, vomiting and jaundice. If a stone remains lodged somewhere, there can be inflammation and infection.
But I think with this low-fat diet I will be okay for now.
So now you all know the latest in my medical history.
And if you happen to find me a delicious treat that doesn't contain fat, you would rock my world.
The BIGGEST THANKS to Tricia and Brandon for insisting on taking me to the hospital and kindly waiting for so long, Bob for so many hours of support by my side, Jenny and Renato for showing their concern and support by showing up to the hospital, cleaning up my macaroni and cheese, decorating for my return and baking cookies I cannot eat. Thank you also for everyone else who has shown care and support. I will keep you updated.
Last night around 9pm as I was deciding how long to cook my macaroni-and-cheese-noodles, I began to have some slight heartburn. I ignored it, as I often have a little gas in my chest and eating usually does not do anything to neither improve nor qualm this discomfort. So I sat down to the American Idol Results show and began to eat my macaroni. I took a few bites, but the heartburn (as it would be described at that time) was worsening. I mentioned to Brandon that I had heartburn and I calmly went to the bathroom. The pain was quickly worsening, pressing in on my chest and traveling to my back. I was bent over the bathtub, trying to find a position in which breathing would be possible. I was aware that the noises I was making in response to my pain were not conducive to positive actions in anyone's ears-most specifically, Tricia and Brandon.
Amidst my severe discomfort and cacophony of "oh gods," I could hear Tricia and Brandon giggling that I was either pleasuring myself to no end or making a joke about the size or breadth of my bowels.
When they realized the noises resembled pain more than pleasure, they began to ask me if I was okay and if I needed anything. To this my pain had no way to respond but to say, "shut up." I am not one to readily accept the doting of others, so I assure you that I was trying my hardest to subdue my utterances of pain, but nonetheless they were still far from quiet. I guess it was for this reason that Tricia and Brandon decided to take me to the ER.
Brandon so graciously bent over to pick up my dropped Gas-X pills for me (not to pick up the soap), and also retrieved my sweatpants and purse and bent down yet again to put Tricia's green clunk-of-a-dork shoes on my feet. All this while Tricia pulled up the car and called Rob, the dutiful boyfriend.
We drove to the ER with yet again, noises coming from me that did not sound short of pleasure. Here is a sample: "Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god. Press right there. Harder. Oh god. Oh god. Ow. Don't stop. Oh god." This, of course, was all discussed as an after-word to the entire situation. The "don't stops" were in response to Robert pressing on my back, which alleviated pain in both my chest and back. I think the general consensus was that I was having a heart attack.
Of course, the pain stopped immediately upon arrival to the ER.
We checked in and waited.
Got my vitals and registered and waited some more.
The total waiting time for the entire trip to the ER equaled 6 hours. Approximately 10pm to 4am.
The doctor decided we would do an EKG of my heart, a chest X-ray, a blood and urine sample, and an ultrasound. The EKG was fun; I got to get little stickers all over my body and cords and clamps all over, not to mention an embarrassing "tucked sweatpants" situation.
The chest X-ray was fun too. I got to place my hands on a Spongebob sticker and an endearing sticker beholding four charming cats, all at the same time.
The urine sample was NOT fun.
The blood sample involved a very tight tourniquet and nurse with some spice in her step, who greatly adored the veins in my right arm but not the left.
The aforementioned results came back perfectly fine, despite slightly high liver enzymes. But just "a touch." "And I mean, a TOUCH. Nothing to hang your hat on."
The ultrasound was mediocre. The warm jelly felt cool, but I think the nurse was trying to secretly punish me by pressing so hard on my rib cage.
Nearly two hours later, we received the results that I have gall stones. Several of them, that probably require surgery. I have an appointment with a surgeon: "A nice grandpa type guy that gives a lot of hugs" next week. The ER doctor seemed to be leaning toward surgery.
In the meantime, I am on a very low-fat diet (meaning no more than 3 teaspoons a day).
The gall bladder stores and released bile in order to digest fat. With no fat in my system, my gall bladder has little to do and therefore the "pebbles" (as Brandon has dubbed my new nickname-and Bob, "Bam Bam") have no reason to get riled up within the gall bladder and no reason to lodge itself within a bile tract, which is what occurred last night. Symptoms can resemble heart attacks and if untreated can include constant pain, nausea, vomiting and jaundice. If a stone remains lodged somewhere, there can be inflammation and infection.
But I think with this low-fat diet I will be okay for now.
So now you all know the latest in my medical history.
And if you happen to find me a delicious treat that doesn't contain fat, you would rock my world.
The BIGGEST THANKS to Tricia and Brandon for insisting on taking me to the hospital and kindly waiting for so long, Bob for so many hours of support by my side, Jenny and Renato for showing their concern and support by showing up to the hospital, cleaning up my macaroni and cheese, decorating for my return and baking cookies I cannot eat. Thank you also for everyone else who has shown care and support. I will keep you updated.