My Latest (Mis)Adventure pt 2

previously on my (mis)adventure, i was being held overnight for observation

I’m sent to another room where I am told to change into a hospital gown. These things are the next step from the poncho shirt things that are in fashion for chicks. I wouldn’t be surprised if they come in fashion some how. I lay around for a little while watching the nurses do their thing. A nurse called Vikky chats to me and tells me she has to get some swabs from me, just to check if I have any super bugs. “Sure, no worries, where do you have to get swabs from?” I ask. “Your nose and groin” she replies. I simply laugh and tell her “that’s fine, I feel like public property right now any way”. I’m glad she laughed, I don’t like nurses how are too serious.

Shortly after, I’m taken to ward three, bed number two: surgical short stay. My neighbors are all old men how need nappies. Joy, this is going to be a long night. Whilst nothing of any great excitement happened during the night, there were a few things that did trigger a sick sense of humor I seem to have.

The Indian gentleman across the room from me tended to fart a lot, and talk in his sleep. I later discovered that also talked when he was awake, it just didn’t seem to matter if any one was there or not. What amused me was the fact is was the most stereotypical fart sound you could imagine. He must provide his fart sound to all the sound effects companies all over the world. Later that morning he got up and walked around to do his usual things. He went to the bathroom, not to have a piss, but just a shit. He carries his artificial bladder around with him like a purse; just what you want to see when you are having your first meal in 24 hours.

On the note of food, I have learned to deal with hunger after being in hospital. And then again when I had to fast for my CT scan. Its not as bad as it seems, however, I can’t see how people who suffer from anorexia can do it to them selves. It must take amazing amounts of self-control; the only motivation I had was that if I had to get my appendix pulled, any food in my stomach may complicate things.

Any way, back to the guy across the isle from me. He had his two sons, and an old woman who I assume was his wife, come and visit him. Freud would have had a field day with what happened. For most of the time, the two sons spent more time with the mother than the father. The father spent most of the time sitting in a chair on the other side of the bed from his relatives. Little conversation took place between every one. It was mostly between the mother and two sons. After some time, the relatives left. The most affection I saw was when the wave waved goodbye to the husband. Poor guy, I honestly felt for him.

The gentleman next to me shat a lot. What I gathered was that he got out of surgery a few days beforehand and was just starting on solid foods. His bowls were having a tough time adjusting. The morning of my departure, he was begging the nurses and doctors for something to stop it. The doctor’s reply: “we can…but we’d rather not. If it needs to flow then its best to let it flow” poor guy, I honestly had a feeling of what it would be like.

During the night, the poor bloke kept on shitting himself. The one incident that sticks out in my mind is this. He called the nurse, suspecting that he had soiled himself like a cow stuck in a leaking waterbed. So the nurse immediately starts cleaning him up. Half way through, this little interlude occurs:

Patient: I think I need to go again.Nurse: ok, just let me tidy you up
Patient: I think I can feel it coming again; I need a bedpan
Nurse: I just need to clean you up first.-Business: she asks him to turn on his side-
Nurse: oh…you did it again.
Patient: I told you I needed a bedpan.

Words fail me. Welcome to Ryde hospital…

Later that day, he had relatives come and see him. Most of the conversation that took place was so empty that they may as well have said nothing. The same amount of information would have been conveyed. It was seriously mind numbing to the point where I didn’t want to eves drop. Poor guy, he must have been so bored…

The gentleman diagonally across the room from me slept a lot. I think he was having a bearable time of it all.

I had a lot of time to think about stuff when I was listening to my neighbor shit himself repetitively. I thought about a career as a nurse, but just at that moment Mr. Shitty bed called for the nurse; 3 guesses what for. Now I don’t believe in signs, but that was a definite hint from any/all higher powers.

In the morning, I had a doctor come and visit me, just as I had fallen asleep. He pokes and prods around, and comes to the conclusion of gastroenteritis. My mum came and visited me and eventually took me home. It took ages to eventually get discharged; the poor nurses there are so over worked. After taking a cab home, I showered cause I was just feeling seedy.

Now its been a week since I wrote the initial part, and now when I’m finishing, so there are many details which have been lost unfortunately. If any come to mind, I will add them to the post.

Thank you for your audience.

§prax.

My Latest (Mis)Adventure.

if you liked the day the world hated me, you're gonna love this...(and theres more to go after this too!)

Since Monday I have been having pains in my abdomen. On Tuesday the pains started getting worse, so I went to the GP to get some medical advice. He had a poke and a prod, and then sent me to get some blood work done and told me to get a CT scan. On Tuesday night I was dry retching and was having diarrhea. Wednesday was no better, so on Wednesday night; mum and I went to Ryde Hospital emergency ward.

**WARNING**

From here on things will get grossly intimate. Read on only if you dare.

I went to the triage sister and told her about the waves of pain in my abdomen I had been feeling for the past couple of day. Then she asked for my name and address and all that. The triage sister then told me to go reception to check in.

At reception, I gave them my details again. Gotta love hospital record keeping. I was then told to sit down and wait for my doctor. After an hour of sitting in the waiting room, watching “temptation” and “McLeod’s Daughters” I finally heard my name called by my doctor.

My doctor was a little skinny Asian bloke called Victor. I again went through my condition. He asked me a few questions on the topics of drugs, booze, medication…all the usual crap. After that he got me to lay on the bed and he had a poke and a prod around my belly. This was really uncomfortable, but this was just the beginning.

**WARNING**
Read above warning again!

After Dr Vick poked my belly, he decided to check for other things. I thought that was fair enough, this is a strange ailment after all. First thing he wants to check is for hernias (at 19?!) ok…if u think it will help, doc…

So down my pants go, on go his latex gloves and he puts is fingers under my ball sack and gets me to cough. Unsurprisingly, there’s no pain. So with that crossed off the list and my pants back up, the next thing he wanted to do was a rectal examination…if that’s ok with u Andrew…if u think it will help doc…

Dr Vick leaves the room to get some clinical anal lube; the type that doesn’t warm on contact. He arrives in the examination room again, and down goes my pants again. He lifts up my right but cheek and firmly inserts his index finer into my ass. At 19 years of age, I lost my ass cherry. He moves it around a bit, almost making me piss my self several times. After what seems like an eternity, he pulls out, and very quickly takes off his glove…so do you still like being a doctor?…hehe…K

With those two avenues now exhausted, he decided I need an IV drip to get my fluids back up, which was fair enough since all day, lots had been coming out, but not much going in. so, he goes off and grabs all the stuff needed for my first IV drip.

After some searching for a decent vein, he decides to go for my right for arm, near my wrist. I look away and he goes for the vein, but shortly after, I hear him swear under his breath. Not good for what should be a simple procedure. So he pulls the needle out and says to me
“Andrew, you’re not bleeding”
“Maybe I should be a vampire slayer”
“…”

the next attempt is in my left hand, on the top, near the wrist, below the pinky finger. That one hurt the most. He tried to get it in a vein, but it just wouldn’t go. All the while he is swearing under his breath. How ever he did have enough time to tell me that I have a low pain thresh hold. When he took out the needle, it was bent. He pushed it in so hard id bent against the bones in my hand. Low pain threshold my violated ass!

Attempt number three was located at my right elbow. He stuck a new needle in, swore some more, and got in pretty deep there too. I swear he was hitting the joint itself cause I got the creepiest feeling from this one. I soon got him to give up, I couldn’t have taken much more. Especially after what happened before.

I took advantage of this brief respite to have this conversation with him:
“Doc, I’m feeling a bit cold, maybe I should get a jumper on so I can warm up”
“I’d like to have one more try…”
“No I really think I should get warmed up, it will make the veins stick out more.”
I get up to leave
“…Ok Andrew…”
So I grab a jumper and go back in to the examination room. I start rubbing my right arm with much vigor. Some decent veins start to open up. The doctor is eager to get going again but I make him wait so I can do a decent job. So he tries again…and…SUCCESS! So how many years at medical school did that take? Perhaps a refresher course may be needed for Dr. Victor… any way, he gets some blood from me and that’s about it.

So with that out of the way, I’m sent back out into the waiting room with my catheter to wait for my drip cause since they don’t have any beds. So I wait for another half hour or so, then Dr. Vick yells across the waiting room “Andrew” and waves me over. Under my breath, and to my mum who’s been waiting patiently through all this, I reply “my name’s Jasha”

In another examination room, I finally get hooked up to my re-hydration drip. I ask the nurse what’s in it and all that. Then she hooks up a broad-spectrum antibiotic as well. Then to make the concoction complete, she injects some Buscopan as well. Asking what it was, she replied “its buscopan, for your bowel spasms”
Hold on a second, this isn’t quite right: my doctor so far doesn’t know what it is, this nurse only saw me in triage, which is only the starting point for the doctor, and she’s telling me I’ve got bowel spasms. Why the hell isn’t this woman a doctor? She’s a genius if she can diagnose people that quickly AND with such non-existent examination time. Come to think of it, she hasn’t even seen my sexy six-pack, let a lot prodded around or even given me a rectal examination…this was to be one of many possible diagnosis over the course of my hospital visit.

With my drip trolley in hand, I was sent out to in to the waiting room (again) to wait for a bed. Shortly after, Dr. Vick is waving at me to come over. He has found a bed. At long last…

So I’m lying on the bed with my hard earned re-hydrative drip when another doctor comes along. I get the feeling the doctor has not been briefed on me, this conversation might explain why:
Doctor: “hello?”
Me: “hi”
“I’m Dr. --lost in accent-- and you are…?”
“I’m Jasha”
“Pleased to meet you, now what seems to be the problem”?
“Well--third explanation for the night and counting-- ”
--More poking and prodding--

He gets my blood results, and my C-Reactive proteins are slightly elevated…in English please? It might be appendicitis; that would be diagnosis number two for the night. So off he goes to get paper work allowing them to pull my appendix if need be. In the mean time, I am to be held for observation...

To Be Continued...