Warning: This post is not for people who are squeamish about bodily functions.
So I was in the hospital for a week. On Sunday (the 8th) I started feeling sick from the meal at dinner. It was 90 degrees out and I was wearing a sweater, but was shaking uncontrollably in the cab. I got home, threw up until there was nothing left and went to sleep. When I woke up, I still felt feverish and yet chilled so I chalked it up to food poisoning and decided to ride it out. Same thing on Tuesday, but I was convinced it would pass in a few days. On Wednesday morning I woke up shaking. I called Abel and asked him to take me to the emergency room.
He got to my house within minutes, having dashed out of his class, but by the time he got to my house I was almost convulsing and couldn't walk. He carried me to the car and started talking to me as he drove but by the end of my block I slipped into unconsciousness. I woke up in the ER recovery room so everything else was told to me. Apparently, once I stopped responding to Abel he floored it all the way to the ER then carried me in. I was having a seizure due to my temperature which started at 106 when we got there and shot up to 106.3 pretty quickly. The ER team was frantic because apparently after 107 you die.
They brought my temperature down (my blood pressure was 75/30 and my heart rate was 166) and eventually I woke up, on a cooling pad and wrapped in blankets drenched with ice water. It's a bit amusing because I always thought this particular hospital was crappy but hey they saved my life. So I stand corrected. They put me in the ICU and over the next couple of days did a CAT scan, some blood cultures etc, but still couldn't find what had caused my fever. So one of the doctors ordered up a colonoscopy and an endoscopy. To prepare for the colon procedure, they had to "cleanse my system."
Now let me tell you. Between the food poisoning, the antibiotics they flooded me with and the liquids only diet they'd put me on, my system was already being "cleansed." But that wasn't enough. The nurse came in on Friday night, with this innocuous little cup and said to make sure to drink it all. Assuming it was something similar to a contrast liquid for my procedure the next day, I downed it. I then spent the next hour in the bathroom, on top of the hour I had spent prior to drinking it. The nurse came in and called out "You drank your laxative right?" My what? Thanks for coming out pal.
At 9:45 p.m., I crawled weakly into my bed and tried to muster up the energy to maneuver into a comfortable position. The nurse came in again holding another cup and said it was my next laxative dose. I replied, "Oh hell no. Sorry ma'am but I'm not drinking that." So she called out for me to finish it all then whispered if I didn't want it to just pour it down the sink. I couldn't even get up to do that. The moment she left I picked it up and shot a basket with it while still laying down. "And it's good!"
An hour later, another nurse walked in and said "Hi Riss, my name is Teresa, I'm here to give you your enema." I shot up. "YOU'RE JOKING."
No. No, she wasn't. Please God no, but she wasn't. Ten minutes later I returned from the bathroom and thought to myself, I never want to experience that ever again. I can't believe willing people actually pay for that shit to be done to them. I went to sleep, comforted by the fact that it was over. Except that at 8 in the morning, another nurse walked in and said "Hi Riss, I'm here to give you your second enema." What. The. Fuck. I launched firmly into the seven stages. Denial. Fear. Shock. Bargaining/Begging. Acceptance.
Except that this broad wanted to do it on my hospital bed, to keep the liquid in for as long as possible. She was completely deaf to my appalled cries of "Eeeew, I sleep there!" She calmly laid down like 8 towels and told me to climb aboard. Let me tell you something about enemas. I always pictured this cute little sandwich bag of water. Oh no. Not these enemas. The bag she held looked like it contained a gallon of water just waiting to flood me with all its cleansing glory. I stifled the urge to throw up.
This is going to get graphic but it's me so you guys are used to it. She sticks the damn tube in my butt, which I swear touched my colon, then starts the liquid. I try to hold out as long as possible but eventually told her to stop. I get up to go to the bathroom and the broad stuffs a towel in like she's the freaking Little Dutch Boy plugging up the leaking dyke (heh) then squeezes my buttcheeks closed and tells me to stay where I am. Um, okay but can we at least cuddle after. After a couple of minutes she left the room and I bolted for the bathroom.
Thank God it's over. But no, the nurse comes back in and informs me that there's still half a bag of water left to go. I give a half-hearted effort to avoid my fate by pointing out that she saw with her own eyes that everything exiting my body was in pure liquid form. No dice. On the bed once more. It occurs to me that having a woman say to you "Now relax sweetheart and just let me push this in" is more ominous than you'd think. This time though, she left right away and the moment the door hit her ass on the way out I was sprinting towards the bathroom. I may have even hurdled the trash can. Seriously, I thought I was being Punk'd. Or maybe Boiling Point where MTV deliberately tries to make people lose it. I waited for the cameras to pop out and my friends to go "HAHAHA Riss, the look on your face when they told you about the second enema..."
The two procedures didn't reveal anything as to why my temperature had skyrocketed, but it did show that I have three stomach ulcers who I have named Skywarp, Thundercracker and Starscream. The doctors figure it was some type of bacteria that launched an all out-war. They didn't rule out some type of viral meningitis but I wasn't in a space to have a lumbar pierce or whatever for them to diagnose it. Anyhoo, they're sending me home today. They think whatever it was got obliterated by the antibiotics they flooded me with in the ER, 12 hours before their first blood test which showed nothing.
More stories to come, Abel is picking me up from the hospital now to take me home (we've come full circle.) I actually did have a bit of fun at the hospital. You know me. And thanks to all my family and friends who visited (Geo, Stevie, Abe, Mike and T) and called, I love you guys absolutely. Special thanks to the guy whose wireless internet I borrowed for 3 days. Yeah I know, horrible of me but it's all for the cause. And of course (though I already said it privately) thanks Abel for saving my life and all *mwah*