Friday, January 21, 2011

A Christmas Tidbit I Forgot to Menion

As I've already told you all, I spent a very uncomfortable and barfy day in the hospital over Christmas. CTV News was there and I was famous for about 5 seconds. What I failed to mention was my brilliant escape from the hospital.

I went to the ER around 5 or 6 am. By about 10 am, I was all barfed out. I was still on a crap-load of drugs to keep me hydrated, control my bloodsugar, and keep the lack of food in my system in my system (that's not a typo). I had been complaining for hours that my legs were aching and my head was on the verge of implosion, and thus had been silenced by the addition of more and more drugs. Sadly, they didn't work.

As time wore on and my throat rasped out pathetic requests for water, my temperature was slowly but surely climbing. Fortunately, I did not have a fever (Dave had had one). Unfortunately, there was no relief from the stifling heat.

I am remarkably fair-skinned. I look like I haven't seen natural light in ten years. Maybe that has something to do with why, when confronted with temperatures exceeding 20 degrees Celsius, I tend to vomit (which would be hilarious as I was there to stop vomiting) and get massive headaches. Basically, heat makes me sick.

When 12:30 rolled around, I was begging the nurse to let me go outside for a few minutes to cool down. I hadn't vomited in hours, and I intended to keep it that way. Not being familiar with my particular weakness, she denied my request and told me that if I could rest for two hours, she would discharge me.

I tried. I really, really did. I tried reading, sleeping, listening to music, anything to make the time pass by more quickly. And at 1pm, I collected my things, walked out (IV in hand) to the nurses' station and told them to unhook me because I was going the hell home. Several nurses tried to reason with me, bargain with me, telling me that as soon as the doctor checked back in on me, I could go. I told them, "Take the damn IV out. I'm going the hell home." More than one kindly nurse recognized my extreme discomfort and offered me a chair near the ambulance bay doors. It was close enough to catch a faint breeze whenever the doors opened, but (thankfully for the general populace) the ambulances weren't going anywhere.

I had already called my mother and informed her that I had gotten myself discharged and would require a ride home. By 1:18, I was too warm to stay inside. I abandoned the ER and stood in the "smokers' area" in front of the ER doors. In nothing but a t-shirt and hospital pants. And I was still too freaking warm.

In the end, my mom showed up and transported me back home where I was able to lie in my frigid bedroom in shorts and a tank-top until I no longer felt like melting.

I'm fairly certain that things would not have gone so well for me if my mother weren't a nurse. She's friends with pretty much everyone in the hospital, so the nurses knew I'd have a trained professional nearby in case of emergency.

Another point in my favour may have been the fact that most of the nurses and doctors there know me due to frequent hospital visits beginning right when we moved to town (I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes only a month after moving here, which necessitated a week long stay).

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