Last night I had my second visit to an Aussie hospital. My demon spawn gallstone has been giving me grief for the past week and by yesterday, after my second visit to the GP in a week, I was sent off the ED. The fact that I haven't been able to eat solid food without pain for a week was a big factor in this - I have no appetite and for me this is unusual. I know I'm sick when I'm not hungry!
The first indignity was having two cannulae shoved in me - the doctor spent five minutes sticking one into the bones of my left wrist instead of my veins. I finally had enough and told him to use the other arm. He hit the giant vein in the right arm first go - but on leaving the hospital the cannula in the right arm was literally ripped out by a student nurse and I immediately bruised and my arm blew up like a balloon. On questioning this, I was told it happens all the time. Yeah, right - maybe in their hospital, but I've NEVER had that happen before. Not even in little old NZ!
The second indignity was the doctor's attitude. I was lectured about how gallstones are [allegedly] a fat lazy person's disease - and then lectured about losing weight and lectured about exercising. I wanted to thump the living daylights out of him - WTF does he think I've been doing for the past two years?? What a muppet. I know a kid of 17 who is underweight and has four giant gallstones with a side of crappy diet and seriously high cholesterol - and is waiting for her gallbladder to be taken out.
Well, I taught Mr Smarty Pants Doctor a lesson. I was so dehydrated that they barely got any blood from my vein. Good job. I'm sure my vein was out to teach him a lesson. I hadn't had anything to eat or drink since 8am because I wasn't allowed anything before seeing my GP, then before going to hospital, then before I'd been tested and prodded. We all know I'm a grumpy cow with no food on board, and by this stage I was well and truly over it.
Next it was off for a chest x-ray to prove I don't know what, and of course I had the joy of the obligatory pregnancy test beforehand because I'm a girl with abdominal pain and apparently we all lie about what we get up to. I went a bit spare about that - I freaking hate doing pregnancy tests for no good reason and I was so NOT in the mood for one last night. What were they expecting, another Christmas miracle? Of course it came back negative and I gave the doctor the evil eye for suggesting I was lying.
Several hours of being referred to as "number seven" (because I was in cubicle 7) and a bag of fluid later, I was sent home with a script for ridiculously overpowering painkillers that I don't need or want (and no, I won't be filling that script either) and a "come back if it gets worse". Why, so I can get more lectures and even less care than last night? Hell no.
I've been home pretty much all day, apart from a quick trip to Coles for supplies and to drop off my notes from last night at the doctors. No training, no gym, no nothing. I'm now on more pills than you can shake a pharmacy at, and I'm really tired. NO resolution, other than my pancreas and gallbladder are inflamed but not infected. No sign of infection, no raised white cell count, clear chest x-ray and normal bloods - but I had to break into the letter they gave me to give to my GP to find all that out. Cretins. We can't possibly tell the patient what is going on with her, now can we?
Hmmm. I'm a bit of a cranky pants at the moment, so I'll write again tomorrow.
Ciao.
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