|just like a regular trip to Disneyland|
I'm typing this from the [dis]comfort of my local hospital. I had a bleed-out of minor sorts as my bleed-outs go, but enough to need a transfusion. I had a CT scan, and I have to have a colonoscopy early in the morning. I pled with my GI man for an alternative to the gallon or so of polyethelene glycol with electrolytes because even with anti-nausea meds I'll throw it up, and I'll have endured the stuff for nothing. Instead, I had to take seventeen tablets with fifteen ounces of clear fluid. I'll have to do the same in about four hours. It's not great, but much better than a gallon gve or take a pint, of Golytely.
The colonoscopy will presumably reveal nothing that the GI man didn't already know. He's just being thorough. I respect that.
My mother was planning on setting up camp here in my room, but since I'm still not speaking to her, that seemed pointless, although I honestly appreciate the thought. My Uncle Scott is staying instead until Timmy, my friend who just finished his internship, has passed board exams, and is a licensed MD (way to go , Timmy!), will arrive and take over the vigil for him. My extended family doesn't believe than a patient sick enough to be in a hospital should be there without someone to monitor the hospital staff. Matthew wanted to stay, but my uncle said next year he'll be qualified, but not yet this year.
Someone even brought my shrink in here at 1:00 a.m. I'm not quite sure why anyone thought that dragging him out of bed was necessary since he doesn't even have the right blood type to give me. He told me what I already know, which is that I have to learn to handle conflict better, and just because someone says something insulting to me doesn't make it true. I know that in theory, but I'm still working on putting it into practice.
In four hours or so the lovely colonoscopy will begin. My GI man doesn't like to put patients totally out for colonoscopies. He uses sedation and IV painkillers. It's a bit incomfortable but I've lived though it every time. If they reach a spot that's extremely tender, they hit you with more fentanyl and sedatives. After the procedure, they give the patient a bit of extra sedative and let them sleep for forty-five minutes or so if the line isn't too backed up, since the patient has had little sleep following the delightful cleansing process.
This has to be the worst room in the hospital. If I want to actually see the TV, I have to crane my neck to an angle that will cause me pain for the next week. instead, I'm watching Youtube videos. The nursing staff is telling me to go to sleep, but what's the point when I'll wake up in three minutes needing to use the restroom again?
The hospital room has so many flowers in it that it smells like a damned mortuary. Where does a person find a florist that will deliver at 1:30 a.m.? Money talks, I suppose. Ilianna, Jillian's mother, feels very guilty, which she should. I'm not saying this is all her fault, but she was very unkind to me.
My dad is flying back from Boston. He should be here just about the time the colonoscopy starts. I suppose he'll try to supervise, as though my GI man hasn't performed thousands of the procedures and doesn't know what he's doing. Still, I appreciate that fact that my dad is coming back from his conference a day early for my benefit.
Thank you, Gerard, for riding in the ambulance with me. Ambulances scare me, and it's nice to have a person I know riding along with me.
I should be back to whatever home I'm going to by midmorning tomorrow presuming that the GI man finds nothing out of the ordinary and the bleeding doesn't resume. He told me he does not expect to find anything that's unusual for me.
P.S. Becca when are you not in class? I might want to call you.