Re: Was in the Hospital - Hated It!!

{{{{{{{Rene}}}}}}}

from Nettie

"René" <My.Pencil@xxxxxxxxx> wrote in message
news:pELkg.784609$084.149929@xxxxxxxxxxxx
Deb, ya know, I DO have a low grade fever most of the time. My normal is
about 97 -- and if it's 98.6, I'm sick. Been like that for the past 15
years. Also sore neck glands -- chronic.

The CT scan from Hell: I could barely keep my head up because I was so
sleepy from the fever. They put me in a wheelchair and the kid raced me
down to radiology as if we were in a Nascar race. It did feel cool on my
skin, though. lol You know I sleep in my recliner -- not for
convenience, but because every inch of my back and neck scream in pain
from any kind of pressure -- including the pressure of my own weight when
I'm on my back. 2 herniated disks. Osteoarthritis. Degenerative Disk
Disease. Spinal Stenosis. Plus bad, bad Chronic Myofascial Pain
everywhere I have muscles and skin in my body.

So, the kid left me sitting alone in an empty hallway -- not a soul to be
seen, and it was late evening. Finally, this slip of a girl comes out and
wheels me in. She tells my I need to "hop up here." Now, I haven't
hopped anywhere since grade school, and can barely walk sometimes. I
tried to tell her about my back and why it's nearly impossible for me to
lie flat. She must have been deaf and left her hearing aids at home.
Rush, rush, rush.

I finally get up and sitting on the side of the table. Now, I'm
extra-wide, and that table is extra-narrow. I had to lift my own feet up
and place them on the table. She was gone by that time. "Lie down flat,
now." I figured, "Well, if I fall off this damn thing, at least I'm in
the hospital." I was shaking like a leaf and did my best to lie flat. I
had to scootch my *** over to the middle several times, to make sure I
didn't turn right off the other side of the table. At least it was soft.
Quite nice, in fact.

I must have made a funny noise, though, because she was there again and I
told her I had to have something under my knees to take the pressure off
my lower spine. "OK. Lift your feet." I lifted up one foot, and she
shoved this triangular brick under the calves of my legs. I tried to tug
it up under my knees, but it was very heavy and felt like it was stuck to
the table underneath. She's gone again. "Put your arms over your head,
now." Let me tell you. I cannot put my arms over my head. The pain is
excruciating and I've been told to NOT put my arms up over my head because
of the surgery I've had on both shoulders, and the herniated disk in my
neck. So, I clasp by hands together and raise my arms as far as they
would go -- to my forehead. She said that wouldn't do and I said it damn
well would have to do.

"Hold very still. Hold your breath." I do so, and feel the stuff moving
and doing its thing. I nearly passed out before she said, "Breathe." Had
to do that about 4 times. I kept telling myself that I just needed to
endure it, then it would be over, and I wouldn't have to do it again.
Then when it's all done with, she says, "OK. You can get back into the
wheelchair." I CAN? No, I CAN'T!! I said, "Well, I'll need help to sit
up." She stands about 2 feet away from me, and extends one hand. Oh,
yeah, that'll really help. So I grabbed her hand, hard, and hauled myself
up. I figured, if I go down, she goes down with me.

I'm in my wheelchair again and wheeled out into the empty hallway and left
there to rot. About 20 - 30 minutes later, the kid bounces in and races
me back to my room.

The last time I had a CT scan, I had to have a tranquilizer, and a lot of
assistance. They were terrific and it wasn't too bad. I knew that this
time, I had been screwed.

And Deb, thank you for understanding when I said I would never be able to
tolerate being incapacitated. It's a damn shame that we'd ever have to
acknowledge what can be lived with and what cannot. It's sad that anyone
has to make these kind of life/death choices.

I'm feeling better, though, and hope I get some energy back.

René



"dingalingdeb" <ding@xxxxxxxxx> wrote in message
news:4g4jg.35561$I61.636@xxxxxxxxxxx
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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