Tuesday, October 11, 2016

Highway to Hell

My mom is tired of my negative attitude and is leaving to stay with her sister an hour-and-a-half  or so from here to spare herself the agony of listening to me barf and complain that I'm feeling ill during the time that I'm not barfing. I acknowledge that I'm not seven years old any longer and that I am capable of throwing up without someone else giving me directions. Still, I thought mothers were supposed to be more sympathetic than that. 

If she just needed to get out for awhile and planned to come back, I would certainly understand that. If she called my dad and asked him to come home or at least come check on me, that, too, I would understand. I don't believe either of such things is the case, though.

I am at home and not in the hospital because someone is supposedly here with me. I am capable of managing my own IVs, although if I had to take out the one that is currently in and couldn't find a good vein in my right hand (my veins have all more or less been used up) I would probably be stuck, as I'm not quite good enough to insert IVs using my non-dominant hand. 

A situation happened at the hospital last week that exposed me ever-so-slightly to HIV. The potential exposure is real enough that I have to go through post-exposure prophylaxis, mainly because of the nature of my work with patients; if I were a regular person working in a regular job, it would likely be determined that the risk of becoming seriously ill from the treatment was greater than the risk of contracting HIV; at the very least, it would be my prerogative to opt out. Because  I  work in the health care field, however, my choices are to continue the treatment, which will last for another 23 days, or to opt out of my program for two months, then return in seven months and one day, presuming the test came back negative. At that point I will be almost a full rotation behind my classmates. i wouldn't be allowed to graduate with my cohort, and would have to finish my final clerkship rotation after everyone else had graduated. I would probably still be allowed to apply for a match for my residency, but it wouldn't be guaranteed, and I would have about 12 hours between the time I finished my final rotation and when I was to report for my residency. The worst part would be not being allowed to graduate with the rest of my cohort.

The situation is highly confidential. a few people in my real-world life know that I'm receiving post-exposure prophylaxis.  An even smaller number know why. I'm not allowed to talk about the situation because the hospital administration wants it kept very quiet i talked to four people online that I trust not to say anything to anyone that would get me into trouble. I shouldn't have done that, but I trust them not to post anything or to try to find my medical school and to call someone there and say, 'Do you know what Alexis just told me?" I trust them all to have more important things going on in their lives.  I I don't even know if it's OK to talk to a shrink about it. It's obvious that they're getting tired of hearing about it. I need to leave them alone. 

My dad probably knows something because he was in the ER when I was taken there this morning after a hypotensive crisis due primarily to dehydration. I don't know what he knows, though. If I said something confidential and then he in turn said something to the wrong person, I would be in trouble. Consequently I cannot say much to him. I don't even know if he's coming back here anyway. Perhaps he's going with my mom to stay at my aunt's house. My mom packed downstairs, and I'm stuck upstairs. I don't know what she packed.

If there were a fire (which isn't going to happen; I'm paranoid but not THAT paranoid), I could get myself downstairs and out of the condo. I couldn't make it back upstairs, though, so getting  7-up or ginger ale or crackers isn't a good idea because no sofa is close enough to the bathroom, and I'd be stuck barfing in the same trash  receptacle all day. Even making it downstairs and to the kitchen is almost unmanageable for me anyway.  So I'm essentially limited to tap water.

I have four bottles of Ringer's solution. If no one comes back within twelve hours, I'm out of the stuff.  I do have syringes filled with the post-exposure prophylaxis.  I can inject myself in the thighs with the stuff, but that's the only intra-muscular site I can reach myself that I'm supposed to use. I'm not supposed to use my arm, but I could reach my right arm with the left. I'm not supposed to repeat a site for at least five days, but it may become necessary.

Does a person go to hell for saying that her mother is a b!tch? if so, that's probably where I'm going.


  1. My mom was never much of a nurse and would drive me crazy when I was sick. And I never had anything that required IVs.

  2. It's good that my mother never entered the field of nursing. she would've been something between Nurse Ratchet and Nurse Diesel.

  3. Have you considered a recliner directly IN the bathroom? A disposable variety, 'cause EEW! Alternatively, bedside commode? I hope you feel better soon!

  4. Have you considered a recliner directly IN the bathroom? A disposable variety, 'cause EEW! Alternatively, bedside commode? I hope you feel better soon!