Back to Hurley

Seems like just yesterday I had the appendix ordeal documented in an earlier entry here somewhere. When they did an ultrasound to examine my appendix they discovered that my gallbladder had stones in it but assured me that "once you go looking for problems you'll find all sorts of abnormalities--best not to go there." Distracted by my explodiing and later necrotic appendix, I didn't think much more about my gall stones. (I did ask my doctor what the symtoms of an exploding gall bladder would be and she said that it is pretty much exactly like an exploding appendix.) So, as everyone knows, for the past few years I have had a range of GI/digestion issues and finally my favorite physician set up her own business in March and I finally have had access to a doctor worth seeing. All my "levels" were terrible. (Why so? Stress, certainly since the high cortisol levels which lead to high insulin levels make that clear. Also the damage caused by environmental poisoning here in Flint cannot be overestimated--we're all paying the price for that in very different ways.) So since March I have radically altered how and when I eat and take "supplements" (non-controlled substances) all waking hours. I also got a CPAP machine which cured my as of yet undiagnosed apnea perfectly. Amazingly, everything Dr. Joseph had me do helped matters tremendously. (So much so that I started taking Frederick to her and his health problems improved astronomically--but he'll have to document his own health journey.) Put simplistically, Phase I was to take various pills that levels my terrible levels by removing all the "bad guys" from my gut tract. Check, did that. Then two or three weeks ago I moved to Phase II: where I would "grow good guys" in my gut tract to digest properly. Ok, we started Phase II but every once in a while I would get a pain in my gut, just under my rib, after eating. It wasn't stabbing pain like gastritus, but a "hardness" like extreme bloat. I was convinced it was a reaction to something I ate, and was feeling very sorry for myself because the whole point of all this was to be able to have a healthy gut so I could eat (and then digest) anything! No more food sensitivities! I met with her and she suggested that I get another abdominal scan--perhaps my gall stones wer troubling me? Pah! I dismissed that stupid idea. I don't have time for all that, anyway, since I have a class I was teaching, a class I was taking on Indian Law, everything else I have to do in a day--that leaky rain barrel wasn't going to fix itself....Oh, the hubris! So Tuesday night, as I was in bed getting ready to go to sleep, my abdomen started hurting again--but this time MUCH WORSE! I prepared to ride it out, but it just wouldn't let up--and then about 2 am I got waves of nausea...It really was just like when my appendix burst. (Simon actually said, "Do you think it grew back?") He insisted on taking me to the ER, which I resisted, but it did make sense since Frederick was fast asleep and would stay so until about 10 am--that gave us about 7 hours to get things sorted. We went to Hurley and sat in the ER waiting room for what seemed like forever, with me running to the bathroom to be sick every hour or so. Finally, about 7 am we were ushered into an ER room--which is about the size of our upstairs bathroom. Into this room we squeezed, me on a gurney bed and Simon on a hard chair. (Simon really looked like shit by this point--very puffy eyed.) I was given an IV and morphine and "something for nausea"--they never named that drug and I felt slightly better. The morphine didn't do the work it should have done since I was always aware of the pain. But at least I could unclench a bit and lay on the gurney bed without writhing around. Eventually we met with a nice PA (physician assistant) would was wearing a Bulbasaur bolo tie and said that, most likely my gallbladder is giving me grief and I would need an ultra sound. By this point (maybe the morphine was having a greater effect than I think) I'm not too sure what what going on--Simon got home to make sure Frederick was fine (he was) and I got an ultrasound. I do know the person who took me there was a sulky pants sort who left me in the hallway outside the ultrasound room and didn't even tell anyone I was there. Someone found me and felt sorry for me and made sure I got the scan done and was wheeled back to my room. Yes, the scan confirmed what the PA suspected: gall stones. But there was no infection and the stones were tucked neatly inside the gallbladder. Why the endless pain? Shrug. No one seemed much interested in that. So, I was given prescriptions for pain and told to see my regular doctor who should then set me up with a surgeon at Hurley to get them removed asap. But since I was at Hurley right that very minute, why not just do it then? I have no idea. Simon came back to get me, got my pills, and then I fell into a deep sleep for aboug 24 hours, waking up Thursday afternoon with just enough time to call my basic doctor's office to get an appointment to see someone first thing the next day. (Not Dr. Joseph who is helping me actually get healthy--this doctor's office is the general clinic that does small stuff and is covered by our insurance--don't try to understand, it's too complicated and stupid to bother with.) I took more pills and then slept more. The pain was worse but, since I wasn't eating anything, at least the nausea was gone. Friday morning I was feeling hot and weak. This isn't good. So I got myself to the clinic and Heather Mannor, the PA I saw there was visibly alarmed at my symptoms, temperature, and the fact that I was sent home from Hurley. She told me to pack a bag and get back to Hurley and not leave until my gallbladder was out--not what I wanted to hear, but not surprising, either. This is exactly how things went with my appendix!!! So I went hom to pack and bag and Simon and I strategized on the best way to deal with this==wait until evening? But then the gunshot victims will start flooding the place. The smartest thing seemed to be to pop a bunch of pain pills, go right then, and prepare for a LONG wait--which is what we did. Simon and Frederick dropped me off at the Emergency Room curb--the exact place we were about 48 hours earlier, and I went in to wait...and wait, and wait. My memory is completely hazy on this but according to my text history, at 7:50 pm on Friday, I got an ER room. Amazingly, the first person I saw was a dr--a real physician! He said he knew exactly what the problem was and the solution was surgery. The only (!) issue was that "ortho" (I have no idea what that stands for) has no room for me, so I am going to have to sit in that ER room until they do. Meanwhile, they would make sure I was comfortable (not morphine--fetanyl which was sweet, sweet release). Well, the fetanyl did the trick--I felt like my whole body was disconnected from me and gone. The only thing was that they wouldn't give me water or food because AT ANY SECOND I could be swept off to surgery! Fifteen hours later (!!) I was moved upstairs and put into a closet (I kid not) to be stored while I waited for surgery. (The reason for the closet, I was told) was that my covid test results hadn't come back yet and the results would determine how they set up the OR. I am not covid positive so I got "regular" level OR precautions. And I wish I could describe those, but the first thing they did was shove a plastic mask onto my mouth and I was out like a light. And yet there is still so much more to tell: the guy with chest pains who refuses case because he'll miss the game! The guy with fish hooks shoved into his face because his girlfriend paid guys to shove fish hooks into his face! The woman who faked kidney stones to get opioids! But I'm too tired to tell more now so it'll have to wait until after I've had another nap.