Whoops: I got here earlier than planned; now may I please leave?

I do not normally write from within the hospital ‘hole.’ (This particular “hole” is Baylor Hospital in Dallas, TX).

I guess I give myself the option to go to pieces and put it all back together when I leave.

This particular incarceration experience is unique.   I never planned to be here so long.  And, I never meant to get so sick. : Lots of things have happened that I had told myself were “no no’s.”

So, things feel  really out of control here and I guess that is what has me so off balance.  Usually I can put some sort of spin on it that will make me trick myself into perking up.  But, right now, I just can’t get there.

The Lurid Details:

I have been here ten days already.  Ten is well over my limit.  I just feel like I am going to bust out and go running down the streets, iv pole clattering behind and with my undies exposed through my attractive hospital gown

No one wants to see that  happen: No one.

I came here on Thursday the last because I was desperate.  My symptoms were getting worse and worse and none of the Austin hospitals wanted me.  I had to come here; where my specialists are, and plea for help.

Initially, my friend was gracious enough to drive me here after working a half day and then could only stay a bit before she had to turn for home so she could work the next day. However, having her with me was a huge stress relief.

The Baylor medical school hospital I go through when I am admitted here is also a county hospital and trauma center.  And, I have to go through ER just like everyone else.

It is a nightmarish experience.

This time I waited six hours before being taken to an ER room.

During that time, I was hungry, thirsty and in pain; and so was everyone else in there.

I met some interesting people.  I even had a little sing a long with a very elderly woman who is suffering from Alzheimer’s.  Her daughter explained she used to be a “choir leader” and you could tell.  She was tapping out rhythms with her long, bony hands and stomping out the beat on her wheelchair.  I was humming along and asking her for the hymn number.  Something about my doing that really set her off and going.

She would tap, direct, and then look in my general direction and say in a very garbled way, “you know this is where you are supposed to come in.”

Goodness, but I have heard that before!

There was also a little woman there with heart attack symptoms just waiting as long as I was.  She didn’t seem concerned they weren’t getting to her.

She told me to get a paper and pen and write down all my information so her church could pray for me.  She said, “My husband is a Deacon and he will make sure this gets done.”

I couldn’t help but think he would have been surprised to find out what sort of liberal, mixed race  believer he was dealing with!

Later on, a man sat down next to us who said he had already been released from the hospital twice that week and wanted to be done with it.  He had gotten a call from his doctor’s office that he should go back to the hospital immediately because his kidney stones had turned into an infection, “in his blood.”  I don’t think he was aware of the seriousness of it.

He was tired of being out there and waiting for his own emergency he said.  I couldn’t blame him.

When I was finally taken back I had a lovely nurse.  She was very concerned about getting me hydrated and getting my pain under control. She would leave for ages and not come back and I did not have a call button, so I just sat there and shook.

After four hours there, the doctor I had spoken to at the beginning  came in and said, “I guess we have to keep you since you have been here before for this issue.  I don’t really know if you have it since your blood work and ct scan look clear but I am going to send you upstairs and let your specialist deal with you tomorrow.

She was very aggressive and flat out rude.  She thought I was pain med seeking, obviously.

I pointed out that I was still in a hell of a lot of pain and had been and she said, “I will give you one more milligram of dilautid and that is it.  I never give anyone 3mg while they are here.  You must have some big problem.”

When she left, I sobbed.  The nice nurse had heard it all and said she was reporting the doctor.

And so the fun began….

Here I am, all these days later and I am sicker than when I got here… and that makes me……


I am sure it will all come out right in the end.

Tomorrow they are going to replace my leaking port a cath (again), give me splenic block shots to my back and try and get me to be able to swallow anything outside of water… which has not happened this week.

Right now, I still wanna run.

Preferably to a bar.

With fried food.

I might as well go out in glorious splendor!