(no subject)
I have never been so scared in my entire life.
Some of this is graphic.
Yesterday started out fairly normally; I went to class, I had some cramps, I took some Midol that made me really shaky, whatever. The Midol didn't seem to work so I took Ibuprofen on top of that.
By the time I got out of class at 6, however, I was in some pretty significant pain. I still just wrote it off as normal cramps, took some more Ibuprofen and went on with my life. Wilson came over around 10 and we watched Pan's Labyrinth while he eyed me suspiciously every time I tensed up in pain.
By the end of the movie I was having severe, stabbing pain below my stomach and in my back. I took some Naproxin. It didn't go away. Wilson left around 2 and I assured him that I was fine. Just after that I went downhill really fast. I barely remember a lot of what happened, but I started bleeding a lot. A whole whole lot. I was literally screaming in pain and could barely walk to and from the bathroom. I called my mom, who called the gynecologist on duty, who called me back directly on my cell phone. She recommended that I go to the Emergency Room as soon as possible. At this point I couldn't even leave the bathroom because I was bleeding so much and felt a constant urge to throw up. I started getting severe GI pain and my whole body started to freak out. I began sweating and felt like it was 900 degrees in the bathroom. I splashed my face with water, my arms got tingly, and I got more and more light headed as I went into mild shock.
This is the part where I literally thought I was going to die. That thought had never crossed my mind in my entire life until 2:30 this morning while I was writhing on the floor screaming bloody murder and obscenities, trying to stay with my mom on the phone screaming at her to make it stop while trying to muster enough strength to get into the car with my brother so that he could take me to the ER. I made him get my stuffed zebra off of my bed which ended up being the best possible move because after it was all said and done I spent 6 hours alone in the hospital in a hospital bed in a hospital gown, freezing cold and crying, being poked and prodded and waiting around. He was a good Zebra friend to have there with me.
Once I got to the hospital, it seemed like part of my pharmaceutical cocktail started working and some of the more severe cramping subsided a little but i was still whimpering and crying my eyes out. I finally saw a nurse and they gave me some kind of sedative after an hour or so that helped me to relax a little more. I ended up in a room by myself and they made me put on a hospital gown at which point I started bawling because I'd never spent time in a hospital before as the patient. I hated being questioned and scrutinized and poked at.
One of the first things ordered was a pregnancy test and a blood test. I knew I wasn't pregnant as the last time I had sex was probably 5 months ago, and one would know if she were 5 months pregnant. I had to take one anyway, though. Whatever. I asked them to use a butterfly needle to draw blood because I have really small hard to see veins in my arm and I hate giving blood for blood tests. The nurses looked at me and in most of them I saw nothing but sympathy as I was crying and clutching my stuffed animal for dear life through pain and the waves of nausea. I probably looked like a scared little kid, not a college student. It scared me a little bit because they looked like they were keeping something from me or that they thought something was really wrong but no one was letting on. The doctor I talked to said he wouldn't need to do an exam and that I could wait to do it with my regular gyno. I was happy about that, but I wouldn't stay happy long.
After the blood was taken I had to wait. Hours. The clock in my room had the loudest clicking second hand I have ever heard in my life and it resonated through the stark, florescent-lighted room and didn't help my panic. The hospital stayed more or less quiet except at one point I remember there being a screaming child. He was screaming bloody murder, then I listened to him throw up several times as pain waved through my body and the room seemed to expand and contract as my pain escalated and recessed in a cruel non rhythm.
Finally around 5am, the doctor who had spoken to me previously came back into the room with my lab results. Most of what he said was rushed and in MD vernacular but I held on as best as I could to what he was saying. My red blood cells were fine, and I wasn't pregnant, but my white blood cell count was "ludicrously" through the roof and there was "a massive infection somewhere in my body". After he said this he left. They all left for another hour and I was left sitting around wondering what the fuck was wrong with me, whether I had cancer or who knows what. I kept crying, at this point going on 4 hours of tears and panic.
When he came back in they brought stirrups with them and the biggest fucking metal speculum I have ever seen in my life. They had to do an emergency exam because something was very very wrong and they had to find out what it was, now. Two nurses and the doctor coaxed me into the horrible contraption and I remember there being blood. Lots of blood. Blood everywhere. After they put in the GIANT speculum that made me literally yell out with pain, they had to keep swabbing and poking around to keep the blood out of the way so they could try to see what was going on. Three people stared into my hemorrhaging vagina. They did a bunch of tests and swabs, one of which they forgot to bring in with them so one of the nurses had to hold the speculum that my body was violently resisting as the doctor left for 10 minutes to go find another test kit. I was crying pretty uncontrollably and she was trying to be nice to me, but the pain and the blood was more than I could take anymore. The sedative I had received when I came in obviously had worn off.
When he came in and finished with the speculum I thought the worst was over, but I was wrong. He started feeling my cervix and ovaries from both the inside and the outside, sandwiching them with his hands and squeezing like he was trying to pop them or something. White waves of pain washed through me and I cried out several times. Apparently I had a massive infection that had spread through my cervix and up my fallopian tubes where it finally took over my ovaries. The infection was stable when I had no period, because it was just hanging out around there. Once I started the pill and it forced things to start moving around, the infection began to move again and for some reason came to a head this morning with the pain and nausea and massive bleeding.
They left me alone again and made me shower off since I was covered in my own blood. I sat in the stupid sterile hospital shower and cried. I cried because it hurt, because I had never seen so much blood and because I have never been so scared and alone. So much medical jargon was being tossed over my head from doctor to doctor to nurse. My phone was dead. I couldn't let anyone know what was going on or tell anyone how scared I was. No one that had been in the room seemed to really be talking to me. No one said anything was going to be okay and no one made any effort to make it seem like all of this wasn't completely my fault. The doctor, especially, had a tone as if I had done something to ask for this. Like I had purposefully injected myself with something that would do this, just for fun or something. Something kids got into these days. Who knows.
I was allowed to get re-dressed at this point. Another nurse came in and gave me another sedative, some Percocet and a horribly painful shot in my right side-butt that was the first of what will be two months worth of antibiotics, nausea medication and pain pills. The injection site feels like a giant golf ball and it hurts to put any pressure on which stinks because whatever it was also made me have to pee every couple of minutes, meaning I had to sit on the injection site because I was still too weak to squat or anything to keep the pressure off.
There were so many warnings and rules thrown at me. No drinking with this medication, I could die. No skipping doses, no this no that. Take with food, take this before this and after this but only if this makes you nauseous. Take these together, but this one only on alternating days, etc.
I have to go for a follow up in a month. They have to make sure that the infection is going away and that none of the cells are mutating and becoming cancerous. I'm so scared and it hurts so much. Percocet is extremely strong, I am extremely sensitive to drugs and even three doses later, I'm still cramping through the wall of medication.
I finally left the hospital around 8 this morning. Wilson came over on the way to class so I could tell him what happened since my phone wasn't working while I was in the hospital. The only message he got before my phone went dead was "I'm scared and going to the emergency room" that I sent before I started going into shock. He gave me the best hug I've ever had in my life and somehow managed not to hurt me while still squeezing me and lifting me off the ground. I was crying again at this point, but more out of relief that I was home again than for anything else. I keep thinking about the blur of chaos right before I left to go to the hospital. I was so scared that I wasn't going to even be able to get there on my own two feet. My body was rejecting everything inside of it and it took me half an hour of panic and screaming to finally get myself under control enough to get in the car. I feel bad that my brother had to watch me fight with myself. He watched me screaming and crying on the floor and in the bathroom trying to get it together enough to go outside. I probably scared the piss out of him.
But alas. I am home at my apartment, in bed. My whole body hurts and I'm in a drug-induced haze but I'm not dead and that's good I guess. Mom just drove up and she's out getting my plethora of prescriptions as we speak.
I'm glad the worst part is hopefully over. I should find out more about the infection in the next couple of weeks when some of the tests come back. They said that during the followup I have to get a full panel of tests, which means more time in the stirrups. Hopefully by then, though, I won't be in so much pain and I won't cry and yell and bleed the entire time.
How was YOUR night?
Some of this is graphic.
Yesterday started out fairly normally; I went to class, I had some cramps, I took some Midol that made me really shaky, whatever. The Midol didn't seem to work so I took Ibuprofen on top of that.
By the time I got out of class at 6, however, I was in some pretty significant pain. I still just wrote it off as normal cramps, took some more Ibuprofen and went on with my life. Wilson came over around 10 and we watched Pan's Labyrinth while he eyed me suspiciously every time I tensed up in pain.
By the end of the movie I was having severe, stabbing pain below my stomach and in my back. I took some Naproxin. It didn't go away. Wilson left around 2 and I assured him that I was fine. Just after that I went downhill really fast. I barely remember a lot of what happened, but I started bleeding a lot. A whole whole lot. I was literally screaming in pain and could barely walk to and from the bathroom. I called my mom, who called the gynecologist on duty, who called me back directly on my cell phone. She recommended that I go to the Emergency Room as soon as possible. At this point I couldn't even leave the bathroom because I was bleeding so much and felt a constant urge to throw up. I started getting severe GI pain and my whole body started to freak out. I began sweating and felt like it was 900 degrees in the bathroom. I splashed my face with water, my arms got tingly, and I got more and more light headed as I went into mild shock.
This is the part where I literally thought I was going to die. That thought had never crossed my mind in my entire life until 2:30 this morning while I was writhing on the floor screaming bloody murder and obscenities, trying to stay with my mom on the phone screaming at her to make it stop while trying to muster enough strength to get into the car with my brother so that he could take me to the ER. I made him get my stuffed zebra off of my bed which ended up being the best possible move because after it was all said and done I spent 6 hours alone in the hospital in a hospital bed in a hospital gown, freezing cold and crying, being poked and prodded and waiting around. He was a good Zebra friend to have there with me.
Once I got to the hospital, it seemed like part of my pharmaceutical cocktail started working and some of the more severe cramping subsided a little but i was still whimpering and crying my eyes out. I finally saw a nurse and they gave me some kind of sedative after an hour or so that helped me to relax a little more. I ended up in a room by myself and they made me put on a hospital gown at which point I started bawling because I'd never spent time in a hospital before as the patient. I hated being questioned and scrutinized and poked at.
One of the first things ordered was a pregnancy test and a blood test. I knew I wasn't pregnant as the last time I had sex was probably 5 months ago, and one would know if she were 5 months pregnant. I had to take one anyway, though. Whatever. I asked them to use a butterfly needle to draw blood because I have really small hard to see veins in my arm and I hate giving blood for blood tests. The nurses looked at me and in most of them I saw nothing but sympathy as I was crying and clutching my stuffed animal for dear life through pain and the waves of nausea. I probably looked like a scared little kid, not a college student. It scared me a little bit because they looked like they were keeping something from me or that they thought something was really wrong but no one was letting on. The doctor I talked to said he wouldn't need to do an exam and that I could wait to do it with my regular gyno. I was happy about that, but I wouldn't stay happy long.
After the blood was taken I had to wait. Hours. The clock in my room had the loudest clicking second hand I have ever heard in my life and it resonated through the stark, florescent-lighted room and didn't help my panic. The hospital stayed more or less quiet except at one point I remember there being a screaming child. He was screaming bloody murder, then I listened to him throw up several times as pain waved through my body and the room seemed to expand and contract as my pain escalated and recessed in a cruel non rhythm.
Finally around 5am, the doctor who had spoken to me previously came back into the room with my lab results. Most of what he said was rushed and in MD vernacular but I held on as best as I could to what he was saying. My red blood cells were fine, and I wasn't pregnant, but my white blood cell count was "ludicrously" through the roof and there was "a massive infection somewhere in my body". After he said this he left. They all left for another hour and I was left sitting around wondering what the fuck was wrong with me, whether I had cancer or who knows what. I kept crying, at this point going on 4 hours of tears and panic.
When he came back in they brought stirrups with them and the biggest fucking metal speculum I have ever seen in my life. They had to do an emergency exam because something was very very wrong and they had to find out what it was, now. Two nurses and the doctor coaxed me into the horrible contraption and I remember there being blood. Lots of blood. Blood everywhere. After they put in the GIANT speculum that made me literally yell out with pain, they had to keep swabbing and poking around to keep the blood out of the way so they could try to see what was going on. Three people stared into my hemorrhaging vagina. They did a bunch of tests and swabs, one of which they forgot to bring in with them so one of the nurses had to hold the speculum that my body was violently resisting as the doctor left for 10 minutes to go find another test kit. I was crying pretty uncontrollably and she was trying to be nice to me, but the pain and the blood was more than I could take anymore. The sedative I had received when I came in obviously had worn off.
When he came in and finished with the speculum I thought the worst was over, but I was wrong. He started feeling my cervix and ovaries from both the inside and the outside, sandwiching them with his hands and squeezing like he was trying to pop them or something. White waves of pain washed through me and I cried out several times. Apparently I had a massive infection that had spread through my cervix and up my fallopian tubes where it finally took over my ovaries. The infection was stable when I had no period, because it was just hanging out around there. Once I started the pill and it forced things to start moving around, the infection began to move again and for some reason came to a head this morning with the pain and nausea and massive bleeding.
They left me alone again and made me shower off since I was covered in my own blood. I sat in the stupid sterile hospital shower and cried. I cried because it hurt, because I had never seen so much blood and because I have never been so scared and alone. So much medical jargon was being tossed over my head from doctor to doctor to nurse. My phone was dead. I couldn't let anyone know what was going on or tell anyone how scared I was. No one that had been in the room seemed to really be talking to me. No one said anything was going to be okay and no one made any effort to make it seem like all of this wasn't completely my fault. The doctor, especially, had a tone as if I had done something to ask for this. Like I had purposefully injected myself with something that would do this, just for fun or something. Something kids got into these days. Who knows.
I was allowed to get re-dressed at this point. Another nurse came in and gave me another sedative, some Percocet and a horribly painful shot in my right side-butt that was the first of what will be two months worth of antibiotics, nausea medication and pain pills. The injection site feels like a giant golf ball and it hurts to put any pressure on which stinks because whatever it was also made me have to pee every couple of minutes, meaning I had to sit on the injection site because I was still too weak to squat or anything to keep the pressure off.
There were so many warnings and rules thrown at me. No drinking with this medication, I could die. No skipping doses, no this no that. Take with food, take this before this and after this but only if this makes you nauseous. Take these together, but this one only on alternating days, etc.
I have to go for a follow up in a month. They have to make sure that the infection is going away and that none of the cells are mutating and becoming cancerous. I'm so scared and it hurts so much. Percocet is extremely strong, I am extremely sensitive to drugs and even three doses later, I'm still cramping through the wall of medication.
I finally left the hospital around 8 this morning. Wilson came over on the way to class so I could tell him what happened since my phone wasn't working while I was in the hospital. The only message he got before my phone went dead was "I'm scared and going to the emergency room" that I sent before I started going into shock. He gave me the best hug I've ever had in my life and somehow managed not to hurt me while still squeezing me and lifting me off the ground. I was crying again at this point, but more out of relief that I was home again than for anything else. I keep thinking about the blur of chaos right before I left to go to the hospital. I was so scared that I wasn't going to even be able to get there on my own two feet. My body was rejecting everything inside of it and it took me half an hour of panic and screaming to finally get myself under control enough to get in the car. I feel bad that my brother had to watch me fight with myself. He watched me screaming and crying on the floor and in the bathroom trying to get it together enough to go outside. I probably scared the piss out of him.
But alas. I am home at my apartment, in bed. My whole body hurts and I'm in a drug-induced haze but I'm not dead and that's good I guess. Mom just drove up and she's out getting my plethora of prescriptions as we speak.
I'm glad the worst part is hopefully over. I should find out more about the infection in the next couple of weeks when some of the tests come back. They said that during the followup I have to get a full panel of tests, which means more time in the stirrups. Hopefully by then, though, I won't be in so much pain and I won't cry and yell and bleed the entire time.
How was YOUR night?