OH. MY. GOD. (insert Janice's voice here, if you don't know Janice, watch friends)
Readers of my blog, I have been M.I.A. for a little too long.
But you know Thanksgiving, Christmas and all that jazz since my last post. Eeeek!
Guess what 2022, you suck!
On January 6th, I started to get these stomach pains, persistent stomach pains, that well pretty much led to not really eating anything. This was going on for some time and I thought that maybe, seeing as the symptoms changed as the pain progressed that I would take a COVID rapid test. My symptoms started with a headache, typical for me that time of year, stomach pains. Then I started to feel tired, cold sweats and couldn't stand up for longer than 2 minutes without feeling like I was going to pass out.
I TOOK THE TEST JANUARY 23 ... POSITIVE!!!!
What the hell! So as a good adult with Cystic Fibrosis, a double lung transplant, Kidney disease and Diabetes. I called/e-mailed the professionals. I didn't get an answer from Toronto (transplant team) but I did get one from Ottawa (CF team). My nurse coordinator said, "If you can get up here, the respirologist is on call and will take you immediately. Just tell the ER that you are expected to come in and need to be seen immediately."
Great, I am going to go to Ottawa, see my actual CF doctor and be seen right away. This is perfect. I head up to Ottawa on January 25th, because I thought I could manage this without going up. It's almost as though my brain shut down, and said "Listen lady, if you don't get medical confirmation about what the fuck is going on, I am going to screw with your head!" This time I listened to my brain!
Entering a hospital is never an ideal situation. Especially with a pandemic in effect. My hubby drove me out, because I was too weak. I had lost about 15 pounds because I couldn't eat anything, was up every night peeing like every 15 minutes. Peeing while not eating or drinking is not ideal. That in itself deserves it's own post, and you know what, my whole experience will get it's own day in the sun.
Little did we know, even in EMERG you cannot have visitors. But because I physically needed Derek there, they allowed him to stay. We register with ER, and then we wait. We were sitting in priority seating, but there were 12 other people there prior to my arrival. I started to feel weird. My hands were sweating, I couldn't see straight, the world around me started to get blurry and I thought this is it, they are going to admit me, I am going to pass out, I can't breath properly.
WHAT IS HAPPENING!!!
Derek went to the nurse to let her know that my status had changed and said that they were going to take me right away. I got some oxygen, as my saturation levels were closer to 90% than they normally are. I lied down on the gurney to get my bearings. They then asked us to go another room in the actual ER, but guess what, they didn't take us there, they made us try to find where we were going. The gave us directions... I'm sorry, but who the hell is paying attention to turn right then go left then look for this area and go to this bed. I am pretty sure that they should have taken me there.
I don't know your hospital, I don't know what I am looking for, I have never been the ER this way before, I know how to get the CF clinic, Module R, x-ray and the blood lab. How the hell am I supposed to find this room that is pretty much with directions saying take two lefts and right. Amateurs!!!
My Ottawa experience will be it's own story, you are not going to want to miss it! Stay tuned :)
So we ended up in the wrong room to start, the orderly, who probably should have brought us to the proper room in the first place, comes in starts to lecture us on being in the wrong room. Well dude, maybe you should have brought us to the right room asshole!
THE ER EXPERIENCE
Some people have empathy for others, some, it's just no in their DNA. Clearly, it's not in the DNA of the ER nurses or doctors in Ottawa, or orderlies for that matter. Sorry, they call them porters now. Apologies to all the amazing porters out there, you know who you are! wink wink
As a Cystic Fibrosis patient, who lives everyday with the lungs of someone else, you would assume they would be taking these situations into account, and thinking, let's get this girl out of the hallway and into a clean secure place to find out what's going on. This did not happen. As confused as Derek and I both were, when we finally reached the proper area for treatment, I was immediately given an IV in the crook of my right arm, where the only good vein I own is. They took blood, asked me some questions and then they did the COVID test on me.
I was advised that my Magnesium levels were low, and that they were going to give me some IV magnesium to bump it up. Ok cool, sure, what are the side effects so I can be sure there aren't any other things going on. "Well, there aren't any that should affect you" I was told. Ok!
Then they gave me IV hydration because I was dehydrated. No one ever came in to give us an update as to what was going on. It would be 24hrs before they got the COVID results back. So it was a waiting game. Be advised we got to Ottawa around 11:00 am. By the time they told us anything, it was that Derek had to leave, and that I was going to be admitted and alone for the remainder of my stay.
I cried, I cried like a baby. I didn't want to be there, I wanted to go home. There are no visiting hours so I would be screwed. No visiting hours because of COVID. Add to that, I was in isolation because my rapid test was positive.
10 HOURS, 10 HOURS I was in the ER. No food, no water, NOTHING! If you recall, I had not eaten anything since the beginning of January, this is the 25th of January. No one offered, pudding, Jello, sandwich, apple juice, NOTHING! 10 HOURS! I'm excited to get my survey in the mail about the service I received. This is going to be peachy!
There was still no update around 8pm, I was still in the ER, Derek had gone home. I mean what was he gonna do. Sit there and watch me cry. That's not what I wanted. When he went home, we didn't have anymore information than what we came in with. At one point in this experience I had to use the commode, which is a fancy word for the portable toilet. I hadn't had a decent pee in about a month, what with waking up every 15 minutes to piddle, didn't think there was anything there.
My back was sore, so then I thought maybe it's something more, maybe I am in renal failure, renal which is another fancy word for kidney failure. I have the best specialist for my kidney's in Ottawa, did they maybe think to call him, and see if anything had to do with the other.... probably not! Not to mention my own CF doctor is the on-call doctor that night. So this should be interesting. I love this doctor, surely he's going to move heaven and earth for one of his own?
Stay tuned for Part 2
~A
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