Re: Was in the Hospital - Hated It!!
- From: "dingalingdeb" <ding@xxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Mon, 12 Jun 2006 02:25:04 GMT
Rene; I can certainly empathize with your opinion on suicide. My biggest
fear would be to be incapcated - and yeah, I guess I was for quite a while
over the past year and it's horrible. Sorry to hear of your ordeal in
hospital - glad you're out, but hope you're 'ready' to be out. I had a 104
fever once that I know of while in hosp, because I remember one of the
nurses taking temp and saying 104 and then everyone scurrying around :-) I
just had a thought - do you run low grade fevers? I think a LOT of us fm'rs
do - my temp will be 95-96 and I'll be soaked with sweat and have a fever -
so I imagine that if one of 'us' has a fever of 103/104 it must be pretty
major for us?? Yup, it's scary and frustrating and very angry making when
you're home alone and you can' t even get yourself a drink of water. I know
what you mean, I had so much blood taken and it was such an ordeal every
time that they sent me down to have the shunt put in - you know, where they
run a dye through and they use 'biotic/whatever' arms and put it in next to
your heart? Anyway, they 'said' that doing it that way was a one-go, done
deal - then when he couldn't get it the first time he said 'well, once in
awhile it'll take two tries... they used 3 different guys and got it on the
sixth try - oh yeah and it was stitched around my neck and I pulled the
stitches out (not on purpose :-). What happened that made your CAT scan so
bad? what a shame. I'm so glad you can sleep in your own bed/chair :-) that
would be hard trying to sleep in s bed after so long.
I'm glad that your dr. saw you before you left the hospital. Hope you have
an appointment to see him at his office soon, just to make sure your're
doing 'as well as can be expected'.
Rest and take it easy,
dingaling deb
If life's a big joke, why don't I get it?
"René" <My.Pencil@xxxxxxxxx> wrote in message
news:gdDig.1015977$xm3.218507@xxxxxxxxxxxx
A couple of weeks ago, I knew I was getting the start of a bladder
infection. Not too bad, but enough to know it was going to get worse.
I couldn't get in to see my doctor until Friday, when my daughter got off
work and could take me. By that time, I knew I had a fever and was
vomiting everything. I was the last patient in Urgent Care at 9:30 pm.
The doctor gave me enough antibiotics to last until my daughter could get
to the drug store. I took one as soon as I got home, and up it came --
along with my usual 3X a day Oxycontin.
So DD called the doctor and he told her I should go to the ER. Off we
went, and things sorta slipped out of focus then. I remember some of the
ride, but not getting into the car. My temp was 103F when I got there and
they tried very hard to get an IV in me. I have the world's worst veins,
and even the Flight Team guys couldn't get a line in. By that time, I
felt like I was in this long, dark tunnel and whatever was happening to me
was superfluous.
My DD, however, was counting all the needle jabs and said it took them 8
tries. They told me I needed to be admitted to the hospital. I had
expected to go to the ER, get a shot of antibiotics, something for the
N/V, then go home loaded with prescriptions. Next thing I knew I was up
on 5th floor and being wheeled into a small room.
The dark tunnel took over and I couldn't keep my eyes open. It was very
lucky that I always carry an up-to-date list of all my medical and
surgical stuff. They had it all -- including my long list of meds, and
the name of my pain management doctor. I just drifted into a cocoon of
vague images. I had this feeling that being sick wasn't so bad because I
could sleep, sleep, sleep.
The next day, the doctor examined me and palpated my abdomen. My right
flank and mid section were very tender to touch. So, he orders an
Ultrasound the next day. The day after that, I had a CT scan, which was
an experience from hell.
My fever subsided and I became more and more aware of how uncomfortable I
was. You know that I've been sleeping in my recliner for several years,
so that hospital bed was a torture chamber. Even with head and feet
adjustments, it was horrible.
By Tuesday, I announced I was going home. They gave me the usual, "Oh!
You can't leave until the doctor sees you" stuff. I said, "Oh! Yes, I
can." It was 4pm and the doctor hadn't even made rounds. I told the RN
that if he didn't show up by 6, I was just getting up and going home.
Getting away from that bed was that important to me. She said she'd call
him. He was in my room at 5:30. He wanted me to have some more GI type
tests, but I said "No" and he said I could go. (Gee, thanks)
I've been taking my pills and sleeping pretty much ever since. In my
beautiful, blue velvet Lazy Boy recliner!!!! But while I was in the
hospital, I realized that I could never be a chronic bed patient. When I
get older and get to the point where I can't take care of myself, I'd find
the means to find my own way out.
It's not my depression, but my recognition of how much I can and cannot
tolerate regarding my pain and other ailments. In that one area of daily
living, I am absolutely positive that I cannot be expected to be on a
hospital bed longer than 4 days. I really don't believe in suicide
because of feelings of hopelessness. But I can believe in it because of
feelings of helplessness. There's a big difference.
René
.
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