Fudgebudget

Wherein I express myriad incredulities

Worst week ever, part 1

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I feel like this should be documented somewhere, so that I have a public record of a truly craptastic week if ever I start to feel sorry for myself in the future.

Last Saturday night/Sunday morning (the 11th/12th), I had crazy abdominal pains that almost made me pass out, so I got Boyfriend to take me to the ER.  They said, “Oh, well, it’s probably gallstones, even though you’re otherwise really healthy.”  They gave me an order form for an ultrasound later that week and sent me home with some Percocet after telling me that yes, I could go ahead with my wisdom tooth removal on Monday.

The conversation in that last pane would happen many times in that week.  It is very inconvenient to not have a family medical history.

And so, yes, I had my wisdom teeth removed within 36 hours of being in the ER for an unrelated issue.

Monday morning goes smoothly.  The oral surgeon was nice enough to get me on some nitrous before putting the IV in, so I didn’t really even feel it.  I was in and out of consciousness throughout the procedure, but felt no pain.  I was revived much more quickly than they anticipated after ceasing the sedation (this, too, is important later).  I stayed home Tuesday and Wednesday, recuperating from having giant teeth yanked out, with ice packs on my face pretty much 24/7.

There is no photographic evidence of this recovery period.  On purpose.

Thursday morning I have an ultrasound appointment to get my gut checked out.  I go early so that I can head to work afterwards, because dammit, I have Vicodin and I’m a badass and I’m going back to work ASAP.

The ultrasound shows a couple of stones, but nothing where it shouldn’t be, and the gallbladder itself does not appear to be infected, distended, or otherwise compromised.  It appears that there need be no immediate attention paid to it.

I go to work afterwards, and begin to feel worse.  I finally get sick enough to throw up and yet can’t leave because I’m the only person there.  The office is more than 80 degrees at this point because no one can be bothered to fix our busted AC.  Apparently, Me + Amoxicillin + Heat = Disaster.  My boss returns from a meeting to find me sitting on the sidewalk outside trying to not throw up again and apparently I looked pitiful enough to go home.

I went home, and then I called the oral surgeon and asked if I could get off the antibiotics – he says yes, and the nausea subsides.  I think I’m out of the woods.

OH WAIT.  SO FAR INTO THE WOODS.

Friday morning I wake up and just feel … gross.  I call in and stay home, thinking that yesterday was just so bad that I need a day to recover.  My abdomen gets a little achy, but I don’t think too much about it and just try to sleep it off.  Remember, the hospital sent me home with Percocet and said I’d be fine.

LIES.

Late afternoon on Friday, I notice that my eyes are YELLOW.

Jaundice can’t be good.  I wait for Boyfriend to get home so that he can tell me if they are ACTUALLY yellow or if I’m just crazy.

No, they’re yellow.  Back to the hospital I go, because jaundice can’t be good.

The ER is packed, and we wait for about an hour and a half just so I can pee in a cup again and then get to the room where they draw blood.

Half an hour and 3 digging-around-sticks later, they finally get a hold of a vein to take 4 giant vials of blood from.  Then we sit in that room for another 2 hours.

Then I finally get into an actual ER room where I put on a gown and a doctor comes by to say:

Admit me?  Oh I’m screwed now.  I’m stuck in the hospital in those crappy gowns where I have to pee in a tray until they do an MRI to see what the hell is going on.

To be continued.

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Written by fudgebudget

September 23, 2010 at 6:43 pm

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