6th floor, local hospital

I feel bored about this next part because, picking up where we left off in the ER two posts ago, the next few hours and days in September were lame and boring. Noticing how often that word "boring" has already come up in this story and considering how rarely I actually use or think that word. I just looked it up and got this definition:

bor·ing

ˈbôriNG/

adjective

not interesting; tedious.

1. "I've got a boring job in an office"

   synonyms:tedious, dull, monotonous, repetitive, unrelieved, unvaried, unimaginative, characterless, featureless, colorless, lifeless, insipid, uninteresting, unexciting, uninspiring, unstimulating, uninvolving;unreadable, unwatchable; jejune, flat, bland, dry, stale, tired, banal,lackluster, stodgy, vapid, monochrome, dreary, humdrum, mundane; mind-numbing, wearisome, tiring, tiresome, irksome, trying, frustrating;

2. 
   
3. 
   

The formatting on that is bothering me but I can't figure out how to fix it and I want to keep writing.

Some things strike me about this definition.

1) It's hilarious and also sad that the sentence used is "I've got a boring job in an office." Ouch.

2) Many of these words describe being a patient in a hospital. These words would not apply were you in an acute situation but the rest of it--yep, pretty right on. So ok! My writerly instinct is correct--the next four days and three nights were mostly boring. And for this reason I will skim over a lot of it because meh. You won't be missing much.

We were taken up from the ER to the 6th floor by a really bright, shiny, friendly tech. She was from Minnesota and she was talkative and lovely. Stephanie was still with me and we both liked her. Don't remember her name.

I was put in a room with a window over-looking a parking lot, lots of trees and the BART tracks. Pretty much anyone who came to visit me would at some point say "At least you have a nice view" to which I would reply snarkily "Of the BART tracks?" But it was a nice window, if you're not a spoiled San Francisco patient still getting over your anti-suburban upbringing and tendencies.

It was shift an hour before shift change so the one nurse who was getting me checked in would only be with me for an hour. This would turn out to be a bummer because she was the best we had. She asked me a few questions, made sure I was who I said I was,and then reported off to the next nurse. Everything takes forever in a hospital--again, unless you're having a stroke or a heart attack or something acute and possibly-deadly. Then things move fast! In my case it moved slowly. I wasn't in much pain. I was tired and drained and using the bathroom often. That was pretty much it.

I laid back to wait. Stephanie said I looked better than I had in the morning when my face was apparently a scary shade of ghostly.  I had an IV in the crook of my right arm. This is known as an RAC or right antecubital IV. This site is a pain in the ass as a patient because it means you really can't bend your arm much. If you do, the IV computer starts beeping telling you and the world that there is a kink in the line or an obstruction. If you've ever been a patient in the hospital you know deep in your skin how aggravating the beeping becomes. 

I had no IV fluids running because the bag in the ER had finished and the nurse down there said "You're going right up, they'll start a new one up there." Please remember that my diagnosis was dehydration and acute renal failure--the treatment for which is hydration.

At some point the nurse told Stephanie she needed to gown up because one of my pending tests was for c-diff (More on C-diff if you're interested) which is very easily spread. Stephanie put on a blue paper gown, gloves and a mask. She loved it. My sister arrived shortly after that and was also told to get dressed to look like part of the medical team. Which is appropriate, even without the possibly infected poop, because she certainly is. It should be noted here that my sister figured out a way to leave whatever was going on in her life if San Francisco (which involves a 2-year-old son, an almost 1-year-old son, a 12-year-old son, a 17-year-old daughter who had recently started college, a husband, an intense job, a new house and you know. . .other stuff) to drive to Concord to be by my bedside. 

I am constantly surprised and touched, sometimes befuddled and yes sometimes annoyed but the way my people rally around me when I get hospitalized. In my mind at this point I was thinking "Eh, I'm not really that sick. Acute renal (kidney) failure seems kinda dramatic. What's the point of waiting for this GI doctor who won't be able to do anything. I won't be here long."

But it was nice to have my sist and Stephanie there. I took a picture, at their request, of them both in their blue gowns and masks but they hated it so I won't post it. They looked adorable. My sister kept having to re-glove because the way we do hospital care is I just asked whomever is visiting me to get me juice if I need it. We don't like to bug the nurses for mundane ,waitressing tasks. But my sister would walk out to do something and have to be reminded that she needed to stay covered and stay away from other stuff and stay in my room. . .hello? That's the point of the precautions! Oh yeah. We run this joint! We think. We just don't always remember how.

Long story short at some point the computer work done by the nurse was finally done. There were no plans for anything else to happen and she got ready to leave.

"Am I getting an IV?" I asked.

"Oh," she answered. She checked the computer to discover that yes, in fact, her patient with no other complaints aside from being dehydrated from too much diarrhea and having dry kidneys from losing all her fluid from too much diarrhea should probably have an IV of electrolytes and fluid going at all times.

I'm no a nurse but I play one on TV I used to say during the five years I managed nurses, making jokes to get through the crushing insecurity and sense of unworthiness I felt in a job I didn't think I was qualified for. It's I use a similar defensive mechanism to downplay my medical knowledge when it comes to advocating for myself as a patient. I know a lot--due to a combination of the on-job training I received over thirteen years working in organ donation, due to my friendships with some of the smartest people (who happen in this case to be nurses and doctors) I know--the ones who know I like to ask questions and who like to answer them for me, and due to the fact that I pay attention and I've been sick for a long time.* But the system is not set up for a patient with no official medical education to ask too many questions about decisions being made or to make recommendations about what care might work better. Patients can be annoying. Patients, myself included, can think we know more than we do. Doctors and nurses can be busy and, shockingly, not all health care providers are created equally. Not everyone is a critical thinker. That happens to be an attribute I value highly, in all areas, but especially in regards to my health. So far all these reasons, I don't always speak up when I should. . or when I do it, I do it in a gentle way so as not to be labelled pushy or worse.

This is why I didn't yell "Hello?? I need some fluid, dummy! What else am I doing here??"

I'm so polite. Says the woman with long-term bowel disease possibly made worse by holding feelings of anger and frustration in.

I got my IV. I got a boatload of antibiotics for no specific infection--just broad coverage in case. I ate jello. BTW Cozy Shack jello is absolutely atrocious--avoid at all costs. I walked my IV pole back and forth to the bathroom where I continued to have diarrhea and sometimes to vomit. I asked for, and received, Ativan for my anxiety and Morphine for some stomach cramping. Whoa to the morphine! That was a great two hours. I didn't get it again which was too bad.

I got a daily shot in my butt. When I asked I was told it was to prevent blood clots that might be caused by my laying in bed all day. It took me another day to think "I can walk! I don't need to be laying in bed all day. Why am I being given these shots just per protocol? Argh!"

The GI doctor arrived. I told him my symptoms and my story which basically went like this:

"I've had colitis since I was 11. I've never been hospitalized for it. This time I've had diarrhea for a week and it doesn't usually last this long. It usually gets under control when I go up on my prednisone. I was taking 5mg per day and went up to 10mg with no change. That's unusual."

And after another day or so of thinking, they sent me home with a prescription for 40mg of prednisone and an antibiotic for a UTI which no one told me I had (and I turned out not to  have.)

During my time in this hospital I did not call anyone to tell them what was going on. Some of the word spread from Stephanie, my husband, my parents, my brother and sister. I didn't get in touch with any of my friends. I've mentioned here before that my instinct when I get sick is to hunker down and be a hermit until I get better. Also, I didn't really think it was that bad. Dehydration from a colitis flare! No big deal. It will be over soon.

One of my new friends found out I was in the hospital. I can't remember how but maybe because she texted me to check in or plan a play date and I responded with "Heh. I'm in the hospital."

Her response later, after she'd come to visit with mystery novels, fancy coloring books and Pringles (my request which I ended up not eating because they sounded gross) she texted me something along the lines of "I will stab you if you ever don't tell me you're in the hospital again."

I do love her.

In summary, Wednesday September 9, 2015 I was back home. Still with the same amount of diarrhea. I'd been there for four days and three nights on the what turned out to be the Oncology floor. I saw my nurses at most once per shift for five minutes or less. I saw the hospitalist (a doctor focusing on the generalized care of hospitalized patients as opposed to the specialists who focus on brain issues or kidney issues) each evening and the GI doctor once. The bill sent to my insurance for this experience was over $720, 000.

Some people are appalled that they let me out with the diarrhea uncontrolled. I felt fine about that--I went in because I was dehydrated. I didn't expect them to fix the colitis. In my experience it would resolve with time, a mild diet and more prednisone.

Wrong. But also kinda right. We just hadn't gotten there yet.

1.