Reflections on the ER

Not only have I been distracted lately, I've been feeling awful. I went to see my doctor last week and she gave me a five-day course of Levaquin, an antibiotic strong enough to kill a horse. I swear it's poison. The side effects are insane -- worse than having an infection. The first day I took it, I was so dizzy I couldn't function, but couldn't sleep. The second day I had a headache. The third and fourth days, my stomach and back muscles felt like I had done 800,000 sit-ups. I started to worry about the side effects, so I did a Google search. After I read all these terrifying first-person accounts, I stopped taking it. Nobody should take that stuff.

The other exciting event at my doctor's office was having my blood drawn. I got stabbed three times in three different places! I'm cursed with bad veins. They finally had to take it from the back of my hand.

So after taking that crazy medication and still feeling miserable, I broke down and headed off to the ER on Monday night at 9 p.m. I hate going to the hospital, especially if I'm not on death's doorstep. I hate to wait. But I've had a severe pain in my side under my left ribcage for about 2 weeks and it continues to worsen. And wait, I did. Any time you go to the ER, a good trick to being treated right away is to start vomiting in the middle of the waiting room. If only I felt nauseous...

After x-rays and CT scans, more blood-drawing and IVs, and 7 hours of waiting, it was determined that I'm perfectly fine. Apparently, there is nothing wrong with me besides a little muscle pain. That doesn't explain away the dizziness and lack of appetite, but I guess I feel better knowing it's nothing obvious. But this is the second time I've come back from the ER with nothing wrong but muscle pain. Soon I will stop worrying and blame every pain from now on my muscles.

I still think it's my spleen.

Hospital waiting rooms are one of the top 10 most miserable places to be. Being around sick or injured people waiting for treatment is a downer. Everyone is in a foul mood. I don't know how doctors and nurses do it. I get the whole "helping save lives" thing, but every once in awhile, they've got to wonder what they're surrounding themselves with. I didn't have much to do because I forgot to bring a book. Here are a few waiting room observations:

1. While nobody in a waiting room is particularly enjoyable to be around, sick kids are the worst. The cutest little girl came in with bad constipation. Poor thing. I sympathize, but I wanted to tell her that crying loudly would not make her condition any better.

2. Couples should pick a different place to make out. Sick people don't want to see that. Three lifeguards came in and, while one was getting examined, the other two waited. The girl was cold so the guy took his shoes off and peeled his socks off so she could wear them. I may have considered that a romantic gesture if I wasn't wearing a hospital gown and writhing in pain at 1:30 a.m.

3. Some people are a great source of amusement. Around midnight, a 16 or 17-year-old kid came in. He had black, longish hair, a black t-shirt, a metal-studded belt that kept slipping down, and the tightest black pants I've ever seen on a guy. (My friend Bev told me they were probably women's pants...according to her, that's a common trend these days.) He was carrying about 8 shopping bags from Walmart and sat in the back. Soon, he got up and he and his 8 bags moved to a seat that was right in the middle of a section where black family had gathered. CNN was on TV and the entire coverage was on the Israeli-Hezbollah conflict. Soon the kid and one of the elderly black men were in a heated discussion about Israel's statehood. This kid began pulling facts about Israel's history dating back to before WWI. The debate got louder and louder, but finally ended when they agreed that the war in Iraq was insane and that Bush was the worst President ever. Isn't it sweet how Bush-bashing can bring two people together? See? He's a uniter, not a divider.

The kid got hungry and went to the vending machines. I saw him through the glass door peering at candy bars when the nurse finally called his name. She shrugged and moved on. When he came back, I tried to tell him that he was called, but he didn't hear me. He just plopped down in his chair and began reading a nearby newspaper so I left him in blissful ignorance. It was another hour before he was called again. The last I saw of him was when I was leaving at 4 a.m. He was all laid out in one of those blood-giving recliners in the hallway.

4. The smart people come to the waiting room prepared. Around 1:30, a woman with three boys brought her husband in. The tromped through the chairs, picking out a section they could take over. They had pillows, blankets, books, a portable DVD player, and food. It was like a campout without the blazing fire. Those people know how to have an emergency in comfort.

Posted by Allison at July 26, 2006 05:26 PM