Creampuff . . . GAH

Warning: This post contains discussions of an "intestinal distress" and "visit to the hospital" nature. Also, it is lengthy.

I was pretty sure I'd end up at the Emergency Room on the day of the Dyke March this year if Katr decided to offer her brilliant marketing ideas to radical lesbians and trans persons in person this time instead of via her blog. So you can imagine my surprise when I ended up there HOURS before the Dyke March and for a completely different reason! A reason that rhymes with "bamoebic bysentery".

I'm not the kind of person who says things like "I know my body", because the truth is, I kinda don't. But I DO have a great memory. So when I started to get sick on Wednesday, I thought "Heeeey, wait a minute. This feels . . . familiar! It's kinda like six years ago when I had what I thought was food poisoning, but turned out to be a kind of infection that kills people in Third World Countries!"

I spent Wednesday night in the ladies' shitter a) pleading with my intestines to "Pleeeeeeeeeease stop hurting meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!" on an hourly basis and b) wondering if I would make it back to bed before I fainted or if I should just aim for the laundry pile.  But then Thursday morning, I felt a little better, so I decided to hold off seeing a doctor. But then Thursday night rolled around.

It was like Wednesday night all over again EXCEPT that as an added bonus, my brain had decided to replay a song over and over in my head, you know, to comfort and anchor me in my faint and shivering state. And that song was "My Humps" by the Black Eyed Peas.

Words cannot express how much I LOATHE "My Humps" by the Black Eyed Peas. When I first heard the song, I thought it was a Saturday Night Live parody of an actual song. It wasn't. I've heard the song three times in total and somehow I know all the words. I don't know what was more hideous - the hourly visits to the bathroom, the sickly sweet energy drink I kept sipping to keep from dehydrating or hearing "Mix your milk with my coco puff, milky milky coco, mix your milk with my coco puff, milky milky riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight" ONE MILLION TIMES. By morning I was a broken woman. It was time to go to the doctor.

The last time I had the amoebic dysentery (which, by the way, is my catch-all term for long-term intestinal distress), I saw the doctor at a walk-in clinic. He gave me antibiotics on the understanding that I would not take them without returning with (gah) a sample. We will not speak of it. I agreed to his terms, since the testing would take three days and I was on the edge of killing my houseguest AND myself. Literally minutes after taking the first pill, I felt better. One day later, it was like it had never happened. And a week later, when I went back to the clinic in the pink of health to get the test results, the doctor said "Wow. Good thing you took those pills when you did. This thing you had kills people in Third World countries." Good times!

Armed with this story and sure I wouldn't get in to see my family doctor on short notice, I went to the nearest walk-in clinic. After waiting for an hour and nearly passing out in the waiting room, I got to see the doctor. I told him my story and that I needed antibiotics. He told me to take some Immodium and asked me if I'd heard of Gatorade. I fully cried in this man's office, people. "What do you think I'm going to do with them? What's the street value of penicillin?" He patted my arm, wrote something down on a prescription pad, and left. I looked at the prescription. It said "Immodium".

Later that day, by some miracle, I got in to see my actual doctor. I told her my story and that I needed antibiotics. She told me to take Gravol and drink Gastro-lyte, because Gatorade has too much sugar. The phrases "try to ride it out" and "go to the E.R. for fluids if you get really dizzy" were used. I like my doctor, it seemed like she was taking me seriously and I wanted to believe her. So I took the first doctor's Immodium and the second doctor's Gravol and split the difference with Powerade and the dysentery got worse and that's how, early Saturday morning, Katr and I ended up at the E.R.

Dr. Carrie Weaver was not present.

"Sorry for the wait," the triage nurse said as she got all set to sign me in. "I just had some drunks in here and they pissed in the lobby."

I got a kicky bracelet and a tiny bed and a lovely red-haired nurse whose name rhymed with "Beslie". I told her my story (even the part about "My Humps" - she seemed so sympathetic) and that I needed antibiotics. She hooked me up to an IV and then attempted to take some blood. It didn't go well.

"Hmm. You're pretty dry. Maybe here . . . noooo. Okay, make a fist, make a fist . . . [slap slap slap] Okay, this one looks good, let me just . . .Oh, lord love a duck."

Beslie went over her two-poke limit and had to call in another nurse. We'll call her Bernice.

Bernice was clearly busy and put out. She didn't fuck around with ducks. Bernice stuck me quick and hard, just below my thumb joint. And then, when the second vial didn't fill as quickly as she wanted, she jammed the needle in harder and ROOTED AROUND, like she was looking to hit the Hope Diamond. I nearly puked. There was no love from Bernice. She told me to hold a cotton ball down on it and took off. My hands looked like a crime scene. I felt very butch.

That ordeal over, Beslie came back with some stool sample gathering accoutrements and encouraged me to make use of them. Know what's hard? Crapping in a cardboard box while you've got an IV stuck in your hand. Fortunately, before I had to experience the full horror, the doctor came in. He barely made eye contact and it was like Katr wasn't there at all. But he DID give me a prescription for antibiotics.

The fluorescent lights behind him glowed like a halo as he passed it to me. I have never seen a healthcare professional look so beautiful.

Katr filled my prescription and took me home and generally took care of her whiny-like-a-man girlfriend for the rest of the day. And the next day. And I started to feel like myself again almost right away. Only tired. And a little thinner. But not so much so that I would advocate amoebic dysentery as a weight-loss method, so don't get any ideas.

I will never drink Powerade again.

Comments

[Lex]

Oh honey! That sucks, but I'm glad Kate got back to look after you. What happened to your poor houseguest during this fiasco?

[Chezza]

Oh, wow. The memories. I can't believe of all the memories, those are the ones you were forced to relive of my stint as your houseguest. The Mini-Me bathroom, the misery and despair etched all over your poor face...I wish you could have relived our trip to Loblaws instead. I miss President's Choice cookies. Mmm. Cookies. Thank goodness for antibiotics. I hope that you get your energies back soon.

Love love,

Chezza

[The Feminist Mafia]

Ouchy, ouch! From one antibiotic-infused body to another, get well. And stop copying me. I was sick first. :-P
Package on the way, and it sounds like good timing afterall. Hope it gives you a little smile.

[wenders]

Lord love a duck? What is that? I've never heard that before.

And glad that the ER doctor listened/agreed/whatever and that you're feeling better.

[Syd]

Now I feel a little guilty for claiming to have cholera every time my stomach hurts even a little.

Damn, roro. Hope you're feeling better now!!

[Kristen]

Hope you are feeling better. Did anyone think to tell you that you should take your electrolytes (powerade, etc.) with food? The little princess and I are also sick, but not nearly that bad. Good thing too, my doctor just moved to Ottawa!

[roro]

Lex - yes, I am very lucky to have a nurse like Kate. Hubba hubba! As for the houseguest the last time I was this sick - I didn't kill her. She continues to live and love in NYC. I believe she's left a comment just below yours.

Chezza - hahahaaa! Oh, the Mini-Me bathroom. Oh, the indignity of those dark days. At least we'll always remember the cookies. The beautiful, beautiful cookies.

FM - you know that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Hope you feel better! And I'm very excited to get mail!

Wenders - I KNOW. I've never heard it either but I've fallen in love with it. The way the lord loves a duck.

Syd - don't feel guilty. Hyperbole is HILARIOUS!!

Kristen - so sorry to hear you and your little princess are ill! I am sending good healing vibes. And no, no one mentioned the electrolytes with food combo. Would that have helped? Could I have had donuts? I must remember this for next time.

[Chgi]

I was amazed at how well Roro managed throughout this entire ordeal. We actually rehearsed through large parts of this episode! At first I thought she was a just a real trooper, but now that I know about the Black Eyed Peas torment, I think she's the most stoic person on the planet.

[dawn]

where'd you get all those hot pics of dr. carrie weaver??

[Kristen]

Yes, you probably could have had donuts. It is a "new" thing, apparently electrolytes can upset your tummy if ingested with an empty stomach. Oh, all the things you learn when you have small children!

[Chezza]

Pretty sure that my only souvenir photo from that Toronto trip was taken AT the Loblaws. In fact, I believe I have it framed, in a frame designed, painted and decorated by Roro in a pre-knitting crafts phase. Yep.

Lord Love a Duck: an exclamation of surprise more commonly found in Commonwealth countries. I have heard it before, and those who use it are in good company : P.G. Wodehouse, T.S. Eliot, James Joyce, etc.

http://www.worldwidewords.org/qa/qa-lor1.htm

There is no Wikipedia entry for that specific expression as far as I can tell, but hey, let me know if you want to write one and I'll get in on that action. Wiki glory, here we come!

Geekily,

C.

[Heather]

Man that sucks. We call it NFB in this house (no fun bum). Hope it passes quickly (hah no pun intended), and you're feeling right as rain in no time.

[roro]

Chgi - I was just trying to impress you. Clearly it worked. HA ha!

Dawn - the magic of Google Images, my friend. I could have spent all day looking at pictures of her . . . sigh . . .

Kristen - that is a very interesting tip. I can't effing believe my doctor didn't say anything!! Grrr . . .

Chezza - you ARE a geek. But you're a geek with a great souvenir photo from the Loblaws. Anyway, you didn't really miss out - that Loblaws is pretty great.

Heather - no fun bum! Hahahaaaaa! Oh, that's awesome. Yeah, I'll be using that for sure.

[Dr. Mike]

Stop eating amoebas!

[greymatters]

"ride it out"
*****

ROTFL. Uh, huh! I am glad to hear you are better, Roro.

[Strych]

oh good lord roro, I do feel your pain.

I too know (even if 100% self inflicted) what it is like to have one of those busted ass annoying songs stuck in your head when you are crook.
It always happens to me when I have a hangover, the song seems to make me need the toilet even more. All I ever want to do is sleep it off, but my brain thinks it amusing to repeat songs, not even the whole song at that, usually just one part.

My delemma when the 'need for the loo' arises is "which end first?". If I decide on the mouth end first I worry the force of that will make me fire (unknownly) out the other end. However if I decide on the poo first I think "errr I can't put my head in the toilet after THAT".

Glad you are feeling much better and that you shared it all with us.

[Drew]

I wanted to send a get well card but I couldn't find a "Glad you survived your ordeal inspite of your medical staff's best efforts" card in the Halmark store. So I tried for a "The third doctor's the charm when trying to get drugs" card. Nothing! Obviously this is an uptapped market. Get your marketing girlfriend on top of this and turn your dysentery into some monetary!

[Ron Hudson]

Wow...so sorry to hear that you were sick. I have been in to the ER twice in the past year for iv fluids for similar circumstances, and as recently as a month ago. You made it sound funny, but I know better. Glad you are back on the road to health!

[roro]

Dr. Mike - Sound advice, my friend. If only you'd been there earlier . . .

GM - I know! "Ride it out"? Ride THIS out, Doctor!

Strych - the "which end" dilemma is always a tough one. I feel your pain. I remember my favourite bathroom had the sink within leaning distance of the john, which was a godsend when I had the Norwalk Virus. GAH.

Drew - you are BRILLIANT!! I'm gonna get right on that.

Ron - man, that's brutal. I'm so sorry. It is pretty gross, isn't it? I think staying out of the ER is a good goal for BOTH of us this summer! Let's work on that.

[vesper]

oh my gosh, crazy story. so awesome that you can find humour even in those situations. thanks for sharing.

p.s. i love that book Magical Thinking.