Will You Please Hold That For Me?

So, within an hour of calling the doctor on-call, my life turned upside down.

I found myself changing into a hospital gown, having electrodes stuck to me for an EKG, being told to "fill a cup," having blood drawn, getting an I.V., and meeting doctors that I would have happily lived out the rest of my life without ever having met. This is where things sort of go foggy on me. I remember Nice Male Nurse (NMN) and Sweet Female Nurse (SFN). I remember SFN checking my temperature and saying, "I thought she felt warmer than 100. She's 103.5." I remember losing the blanket with which I had been covered and being left with only a sheet.

My timeline for the rest of the evening is so very, well, foggy really just doesn't do it justice. And, no, it's not because it's been four months. It was this way for me 24 hours later. I had x-rays done of my abdomen to check for air, to see if my uterus or colon had been punctured during the procedure. I moved myself from the bed/gurney to the table, but only just barely. Side note, I had to sign a release form when I entered the x-ray room. I thought, "This is odd. I don't think I'm in any condition to make this decision for myself."

By 6 o'clock, my husband and father had joined my mom and me. Seeing the two most important men in my life at the hospital, with looks of bewilderment on their faces, made me regret having the NovaSure procedure done. I think I apologized to them. I tried to hold their hands, but I really couldn't even do that. They had to hold mine. I could not lift my arms.

I had a fully (or maybe it's foley, I don't know- anyway, a catheter) put in by 6:30 pm, I was no longer able to get out of bed.

The surgeon ordered a CT Scan because the x-ray didn't have enough contrast to be 100% sure that there wasn't a puncture or a tear somewhere. This required drinking the radioactive dye. The doctors told me it tasted like water. The nurses assured me it wasn't bad. I tried. I really did. My family took turns holding the cup and straw up to my mouth so I could sip it. The staff kept coming in, "You've got to drink it and then we have to wait 2 hours before we can do the scan." Um, no. I could not get it down. I finished about half of it, and then asked for a vomit bag. "Please, will you hold that for me? I can't do it."

Quick rewind, remember that "mocktail" I drank on the way to ER? Yeah, it was the same color when it came back. I can't bring myself to drink anything neon green after that. It took multiple times before the contents of my stomach were thoroughly emptied. I felt immensely better. And, I did not have to finish drinking the "contrast." When they wheeled me back, to the CT machine, the tech just injected some iodine into my I.V. line. I also had to sign a release form. By this time, my signature was a scribble.