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health status dump....
Feb. 6th, 2006 11:39 pmJust got released from the hospital.
In December I had several bouts of what I thought was food poisoning and I was suffering some type of severe fatigue, which I wrote off as physical effects of mental stress & depression.
A few friends and I we're huddled around a computer watching a movie in early January when a severe pain instantly gripped my bowl and sphincter. Suddenly emerging from my ass, came the fart that roared! My friends and I burst into laughter and the film was paused, people left their seats, and there was applause and concerned dialouge of my underwear status. Brown alert! I went into the bathroom and proceeded to let out a few more bowl booming farts, provoking further commentary from my friends. The Laughter of the Farting episode made me quickly forget about the severe but brief pain that I had experienced. I went homeward and slept only to be awoken in a state not fit for wishing upon enemies.
During the next four day period I suffered severe and simultaneous vomiting, painful diarrhea, fever, fatigue, lower abdomen pain, pain when urinating, bowel pain, backaches, headaches, and chills. I'm sure I left something out... I had to have someone else look after my dog because I was sadly incapable. On the fourth night, after a particularly severe vomiting episode, I passed out on my bathroom floor for about four or five hours, and woke up cold and unaware of my surroundings. It took me a couple minutes to realize I was in my apartment and I was still somewhat delirious and very very very cold even though it was raining outside and probably 62 degrees. That was enough for me to haul my insurance-less ass down to the doctors office as soon as I stopped puking up that last glass of water I drank. I didn't have a lot of cash, and really needed to be looking for work instead of mounting up medical bills, but something was kicking my ass awfully bad.
The fact that I had no insurance was noted by the doctors admissions folks and they instructed me to immediately inform everyone who examined me that I was "a self-pay patient". Good, I thought, because I was broke and basically have only enough money for rent and food if I only read books for entertainment. The doc listened to my sob story and took an urine sample which showed an elevated red blood cell count and some bacteria, so he treated me as if I had a UTI. The doctor prescribed to me an inexpensive ($25) sulfa antibiotic medication. The doc visit was adjusted down to ninety bucks and the lab work was fourty four bucks. I wasn't too bummed about that, but it was my play money for the next two months.
At first, this drug seemed to work, but very slowly. After about three days, I was up again and eating food. After 10 days I felt about 70% healthy, but I was still having pain and periodic fatigue every day.
By the time I finished the medication I was drinking tons of cranberry juice thinking it was kidney, bladder UTI related. While I was holding down chicken soup okay, when I would try to eat a sandwich or a pizza, it would reversify. Then about four days after finishing the medication I started vomiting in the mornings, sweating, and suffering more periodic fever symptoms. On the fifth day I woke up and my pj's (don't laugh!) were soaked, my sheets were soaked, my blankets were soaked, and my mattress was soaked. So I went back in to see the same doctor and received an examination. He took another urine test, ordered blood & urine tests, and put me on CIPROFLOXIN, an antibiotic. I went to a lab and had the blood test performed went home and took my meds and drank about a bathtub full of water each day. I tried eating food but I was not able to hold it down so I was only doing chicken soup. I called the doctor and informed him I wasn't getting better and asked for the results of my tests. The next day another doctor called me back in the afternoon (I was in bed all day) and informed me that I had a high white blood cell count indicating an infection, but he could not see any bacteria in my urine, so he didn't think I had a bladder/kidney infection anymore. He asked me to come in first thing the next morning.
First thing the next morning I went off to the doctors office. Promptly informing everyone I could see that I was "self pay" (they need a nametag, or pink triangle patch or something for the self-payers ;-). The new doctor examined me briefly and said he wanted a CT scan of my abdomen. I asked how much that would cost and he said, "don't worry, we can work that out, but this is potentially serious and I'd like to get the CT scan this afternoon, so you march directly to X-ray at...".
I arrived at the larger hospital and marched directly to the X-ray where they were waiting for me. "Are you John?" the blue paper suited person behind the desk asked. The next statement was, "give me your insurance card". When I told them I didn't have insurance they sent me to the admissions department. A helpful competent and kind woman in the admissions department told me that the hospital wouldn't allow me to get the scan unless I had insurance or could pay up front. Then she said she would call her supervisor. She offered before I could ask her, I guess she just saw my pale green face and felt compassionate. Her supervisor told her to call my doc to determine if I was a life threatening case. He said I was, (yeeeeep!) and I think that was the first time my condition really sank into my dumb thick Neanderthal skull. About then I got really mad for choosing not sell my car to maintain insurance....
I wondered "am i going to be alright? Let's see, its been about 2 months of infections and weight loss (20 lbs) and here I am in a hospital being told I need surgery and care I cannot afford...". After not too long, they agreed to do the CT scan. They made me sign whatever life and assets I may have left (presuming they save my ass, not out of the woods yet) over to working for the medical industry. I drink barium like mad and had a IV stuck into my arm where they pump iodine (I think) into my bloodstream during the test. They strip me and I go into a CT scan machine (think 2001 Space odyssey), don’t breath....bzzzzzt....breath....don't breath.....bzzzzzzt.. for a while and then it stops. I wait for about five minutes lying there in this white room. I can see a couple of doctors studying at the scan. Then I see the doctor who just sent me over from the office clinic studying it with the other two doctors. In a couple of minutes they inform me that they have identified the cause, an abscessed and ruptured colon area, a diverticulitis / peritonitis. CT Scans and doctors are amazing!!!!! Suddenly, my rash of mystery illnesses makes sense. There is fecal matter from the colon leaking into my abdomen infecting everything (insert john is full of shit joke here) in the area and this is a life threatening situation because my liver, stomach, & lungs are next, and if that happens, I'm dead. I am told that I need hospitalization to be stabalized so I can undergo either one or two surgeries: option 1. "Primary bowel resection", option 2. "Bowel resection with colostomy". I am glazing at the thought of the colostomy bag and the cutting of the abdominal wall and bowel involved in the worst of the two options. They tell me that they cannot do the surgeries until they get my swollen infected organs under control and that may take a few weeks.
I am immediately checked into the hospital and put in a room on a drip IV, with IV antibiotics, and morphine. Morphine freaks me out, since its a "I give up, but I can cure the pain with this" type of drug. I am only allowed a clear liquid diet. I do not like Jello much, but I dig being around so, its all good.
For three days I'm laying in the hospital bed, feverous, nausea headache ect. HHJJ! The nurses were exceptional people. They have a hard job and they did it well. The surgeon and my doctor were both also very cool. I like them and I'm pretty sure they saving my life. The surgeon reminded me of an old friend and that helped me with the anvils of reality she was communicating to me. She kind of looked healthy and she was sharp as a tack, you could just tell. The doctor was also really cool, healthy, and sharp as well. This makes me confident. The doctor told me she is a bay area local and she knew all about where I was born (a now closed military hospital) and she has a certain cultural pizzazz to her that I find comforting.
The morning of the third day, my surgeon drops by and explains my operation possibilities to me again. She make the one operation option sound way better than the two operation option. It occurs to me while we are speaking that she kinda has to be a clear and forthright as possible, communicating the worst case senario, and she does, but I still get scared and well up a bit, but I hold it together. Soon after, another doctor drops in on me and informs me that I am to be transferred to a hospital (one no where near as nice) in another town since that was what they do with people without insurance. This bums me out. I don't want to go to the other hospital because I'd just had been told by more than one person that the place I was currently in is much better than the hospital I was supposedly now destined to be transferred to....Actually both visits left me thoroughly bummed out, but I tried desperately not to reveal that...after all I was at their mercy.
Later that afternoon, I am given another CT scan. They (thankfully) discover the abscess has shrunk "spectacularly" and they've found hardly anything to drain. They inform me that I appear to be responding really well to the medication. I still felt feverish but it was the first good news in months. I want to believe.
I tried not to think about the bill during the whole epsiode, but people were offering me tons of conflicting finacial advice and the bill was hard to ignore. Completely stressed out t'was I. All of the hospital folks knew I didn't have insurance before I could inform them, so a pink triangle or dunce cap would have been very redundant. I then see my doctor again and she informs me that since I appear to be doing better, I can be released to rest at home and I instantly agree. Its what I want. 72 hours in even a good hospital is no picnic. Yes, I want to see my dog. I am given a script for more antibiotics, ordered on a clear liquid diet until I finished them, told that I need to make an appointment with the surgeon later in the week to determine when my body is okay for the surgery, and I need to basically do nothing until then. I talk to a hospital social worker who tells me how to apply for MEDI-CAL and disability, but he informs me that the 401K income I cashed to pay my rent may disqualify me from coverage. I contemplate jumping out a window briefly, but then I see a hummingbird and I realize I want to see my dog and friends and smoke a joint again, so I just smile and thank him for his advice and information.
So here I am at home with the meds, in some pain with no pain meds and no way to afford them, drinking apple juice, peach juice, broths, and eating nothing thicker than jello. That's all I get to ingest. The good news is I saw my dog today but I didn't have the energy to walk him so my friend still has him. I miss my dog.
My friends & family were all loving to me during this time. Sadly, I fucked it. I told a white lie to one of them to avoid an emotional confrontation in the hospital, but I got caught, so I explained my reasoning and apologized and I now feel really bad about it, but that's the life when you tell even white lies isn't it? Fun to me sometimes. You'd think I know better but nope, I still suck like that sometimes. The true silver lining in this whole thing is that I will be me for a little while longer. Perhaps after the surgery I'll have around $100,000 dollars of debt, but hey, wouldn't you pay that to save your own life? I'm trying to shake the feeling like they discharged me because I don't have any money and focusing upon really believing that I'm getting better. I'm pretty icky still and it still hurts to pee. I guess I'm like that until its okay to do the surgery. Clear liquid (no solid food) until then....wheee.
I'm currently crashing down off of ~10mg of morphine per day in hospital. Worried about all the new pains propping up. Concerned how quickly they discharged me versus how weak I am. And fucking thankful for the skill of those who brought me here. Worst case, I get sick again and I go again into the hospital and they have to treat the infections again. Medium case, I'm getting a surgery in 5-6 weeks for it. If this happens its 75% chance for one surgery or 25% chance for colostomy bag and 2 surgeries. Best case? A CT scan saved my little ole life by the way. Thank heaven for science! Now to determine how I will pay next months rent if I can't work....I've actually got a couple of ideas. Mostly I feel like with the help of nurses, doctors, and a SIEMENS CT scanner, I was saved from dissolving into nothing.
Current weight 135.
"t'was then he felt alone and wished he'd gone straight" bd/rz - simple twist of fate
PS: My apologies for the grammar, tense, and spelling errors, I am completely out of it. (The errors I make when I am completely into it, I make no apology for...)
In December I had several bouts of what I thought was food poisoning and I was suffering some type of severe fatigue, which I wrote off as physical effects of mental stress & depression.
A few friends and I we're huddled around a computer watching a movie in early January when a severe pain instantly gripped my bowl and sphincter. Suddenly emerging from my ass, came the fart that roared! My friends and I burst into laughter and the film was paused, people left their seats, and there was applause and concerned dialouge of my underwear status. Brown alert! I went into the bathroom and proceeded to let out a few more bowl booming farts, provoking further commentary from my friends. The Laughter of the Farting episode made me quickly forget about the severe but brief pain that I had experienced. I went homeward and slept only to be awoken in a state not fit for wishing upon enemies.
During the next four day period I suffered severe and simultaneous vomiting, painful diarrhea, fever, fatigue, lower abdomen pain, pain when urinating, bowel pain, backaches, headaches, and chills. I'm sure I left something out... I had to have someone else look after my dog because I was sadly incapable. On the fourth night, after a particularly severe vomiting episode, I passed out on my bathroom floor for about four or five hours, and woke up cold and unaware of my surroundings. It took me a couple minutes to realize I was in my apartment and I was still somewhat delirious and very very very cold even though it was raining outside and probably 62 degrees. That was enough for me to haul my insurance-less ass down to the doctors office as soon as I stopped puking up that last glass of water I drank. I didn't have a lot of cash, and really needed to be looking for work instead of mounting up medical bills, but something was kicking my ass awfully bad.
The fact that I had no insurance was noted by the doctors admissions folks and they instructed me to immediately inform everyone who examined me that I was "a self-pay patient". Good, I thought, because I was broke and basically have only enough money for rent and food if I only read books for entertainment. The doc listened to my sob story and took an urine sample which showed an elevated red blood cell count and some bacteria, so he treated me as if I had a UTI. The doctor prescribed to me an inexpensive ($25) sulfa antibiotic medication. The doc visit was adjusted down to ninety bucks and the lab work was fourty four bucks. I wasn't too bummed about that, but it was my play money for the next two months.
At first, this drug seemed to work, but very slowly. After about three days, I was up again and eating food. After 10 days I felt about 70% healthy, but I was still having pain and periodic fatigue every day.
By the time I finished the medication I was drinking tons of cranberry juice thinking it was kidney, bladder UTI related. While I was holding down chicken soup okay, when I would try to eat a sandwich or a pizza, it would reversify. Then about four days after finishing the medication I started vomiting in the mornings, sweating, and suffering more periodic fever symptoms. On the fifth day I woke up and my pj's (don't laugh!) were soaked, my sheets were soaked, my blankets were soaked, and my mattress was soaked. So I went back in to see the same doctor and received an examination. He took another urine test, ordered blood & urine tests, and put me on CIPROFLOXIN, an antibiotic. I went to a lab and had the blood test performed went home and took my meds and drank about a bathtub full of water each day. I tried eating food but I was not able to hold it down so I was only doing chicken soup. I called the doctor and informed him I wasn't getting better and asked for the results of my tests. The next day another doctor called me back in the afternoon (I was in bed all day) and informed me that I had a high white blood cell count indicating an infection, but he could not see any bacteria in my urine, so he didn't think I had a bladder/kidney infection anymore. He asked me to come in first thing the next morning.
First thing the next morning I went off to the doctors office. Promptly informing everyone I could see that I was "self pay" (they need a nametag, or pink triangle patch or something for the self-payers ;-). The new doctor examined me briefly and said he wanted a CT scan of my abdomen. I asked how much that would cost and he said, "don't worry, we can work that out, but this is potentially serious and I'd like to get the CT scan this afternoon, so you march directly to X-ray at...".
I arrived at the larger hospital and marched directly to the X-ray where they were waiting for me. "Are you John?" the blue paper suited person behind the desk asked. The next statement was, "give me your insurance card". When I told them I didn't have insurance they sent me to the admissions department. A helpful competent and kind woman in the admissions department told me that the hospital wouldn't allow me to get the scan unless I had insurance or could pay up front. Then she said she would call her supervisor. She offered before I could ask her, I guess she just saw my pale green face and felt compassionate. Her supervisor told her to call my doc to determine if I was a life threatening case. He said I was, (yeeeeep!) and I think that was the first time my condition really sank into my dumb thick Neanderthal skull. About then I got really mad for choosing not sell my car to maintain insurance....
I wondered "am i going to be alright? Let's see, its been about 2 months of infections and weight loss (20 lbs) and here I am in a hospital being told I need surgery and care I cannot afford...". After not too long, they agreed to do the CT scan. They made me sign whatever life and assets I may have left (presuming they save my ass, not out of the woods yet) over to working for the medical industry. I drink barium like mad and had a IV stuck into my arm where they pump iodine (I think) into my bloodstream during the test. They strip me and I go into a CT scan machine (think 2001 Space odyssey), don’t breath....bzzzzzt....breath....don't breath.....bzzzzzzt.. for a while and then it stops. I wait for about five minutes lying there in this white room. I can see a couple of doctors studying at the scan. Then I see the doctor who just sent me over from the office clinic studying it with the other two doctors. In a couple of minutes they inform me that they have identified the cause, an abscessed and ruptured colon area, a diverticulitis / peritonitis. CT Scans and doctors are amazing!!!!! Suddenly, my rash of mystery illnesses makes sense. There is fecal matter from the colon leaking into my abdomen infecting everything (insert john is full of shit joke here) in the area and this is a life threatening situation because my liver, stomach, & lungs are next, and if that happens, I'm dead. I am told that I need hospitalization to be stabalized so I can undergo either one or two surgeries: option 1. "Primary bowel resection", option 2. "Bowel resection with colostomy". I am glazing at the thought of the colostomy bag and the cutting of the abdominal wall and bowel involved in the worst of the two options. They tell me that they cannot do the surgeries until they get my swollen infected organs under control and that may take a few weeks.
I am immediately checked into the hospital and put in a room on a drip IV, with IV antibiotics, and morphine. Morphine freaks me out, since its a "I give up, but I can cure the pain with this" type of drug. I am only allowed a clear liquid diet. I do not like Jello much, but I dig being around so, its all good.
For three days I'm laying in the hospital bed, feverous, nausea headache ect. HHJJ! The nurses were exceptional people. They have a hard job and they did it well. The surgeon and my doctor were both also very cool. I like them and I'm pretty sure they saving my life. The surgeon reminded me of an old friend and that helped me with the anvils of reality she was communicating to me. She kind of looked healthy and she was sharp as a tack, you could just tell. The doctor was also really cool, healthy, and sharp as well. This makes me confident. The doctor told me she is a bay area local and she knew all about where I was born (a now closed military hospital) and she has a certain cultural pizzazz to her that I find comforting.
The morning of the third day, my surgeon drops by and explains my operation possibilities to me again. She make the one operation option sound way better than the two operation option. It occurs to me while we are speaking that she kinda has to be a clear and forthright as possible, communicating the worst case senario, and she does, but I still get scared and well up a bit, but I hold it together. Soon after, another doctor drops in on me and informs me that I am to be transferred to a hospital (one no where near as nice) in another town since that was what they do with people without insurance. This bums me out. I don't want to go to the other hospital because I'd just had been told by more than one person that the place I was currently in is much better than the hospital I was supposedly now destined to be transferred to....Actually both visits left me thoroughly bummed out, but I tried desperately not to reveal that...after all I was at their mercy.
Later that afternoon, I am given another CT scan. They (thankfully) discover the abscess has shrunk "spectacularly" and they've found hardly anything to drain. They inform me that I appear to be responding really well to the medication. I still felt feverish but it was the first good news in months. I want to believe.
I tried not to think about the bill during the whole epsiode, but people were offering me tons of conflicting finacial advice and the bill was hard to ignore. Completely stressed out t'was I. All of the hospital folks knew I didn't have insurance before I could inform them, so a pink triangle or dunce cap would have been very redundant. I then see my doctor again and she informs me that since I appear to be doing better, I can be released to rest at home and I instantly agree. Its what I want. 72 hours in even a good hospital is no picnic. Yes, I want to see my dog. I am given a script for more antibiotics, ordered on a clear liquid diet until I finished them, told that I need to make an appointment with the surgeon later in the week to determine when my body is okay for the surgery, and I need to basically do nothing until then. I talk to a hospital social worker who tells me how to apply for MEDI-CAL and disability, but he informs me that the 401K income I cashed to pay my rent may disqualify me from coverage. I contemplate jumping out a window briefly, but then I see a hummingbird and I realize I want to see my dog and friends and smoke a joint again, so I just smile and thank him for his advice and information.
So here I am at home with the meds, in some pain with no pain meds and no way to afford them, drinking apple juice, peach juice, broths, and eating nothing thicker than jello. That's all I get to ingest. The good news is I saw my dog today but I didn't have the energy to walk him so my friend still has him. I miss my dog.
My friends & family were all loving to me during this time. Sadly, I fucked it. I told a white lie to one of them to avoid an emotional confrontation in the hospital, but I got caught, so I explained my reasoning and apologized and I now feel really bad about it, but that's the life when you tell even white lies isn't it? Fun to me sometimes. You'd think I know better but nope, I still suck like that sometimes. The true silver lining in this whole thing is that I will be me for a little while longer. Perhaps after the surgery I'll have around $100,000 dollars of debt, but hey, wouldn't you pay that to save your own life? I'm trying to shake the feeling like they discharged me because I don't have any money and focusing upon really believing that I'm getting better. I'm pretty icky still and it still hurts to pee. I guess I'm like that until its okay to do the surgery. Clear liquid (no solid food) until then....wheee.
I'm currently crashing down off of ~10mg of morphine per day in hospital. Worried about all the new pains propping up. Concerned how quickly they discharged me versus how weak I am. And fucking thankful for the skill of those who brought me here. Worst case, I get sick again and I go again into the hospital and they have to treat the infections again. Medium case, I'm getting a surgery in 5-6 weeks for it. If this happens its 75% chance for one surgery or 25% chance for colostomy bag and 2 surgeries. Best case? A CT scan saved my little ole life by the way. Thank heaven for science! Now to determine how I will pay next months rent if I can't work....I've actually got a couple of ideas. Mostly I feel like with the help of nurses, doctors, and a SIEMENS CT scanner, I was saved from dissolving into nothing.
Current weight 135.
"t'was then he felt alone and wished he'd gone straight" bd/rz - simple twist of fate
PS: My apologies for the grammar, tense, and spelling errors, I am completely out of it. (The errors I make when I am completely into it, I make no apology for...)
