I'm not sure why I've been avoiding blogging about this. Lord knows I don't have that much to do at work today. (Although, I discovered this morning that yahoo games are not blocked right now. Yeah, I've been wasting my day away playing Dynomite and Bookworm between calls. Merry Christmas to me!) I think it might have something to do with the fact that I feel incredibly let down by my doctor.
Let's start at the beginning.
I hate being told I can't eat or drink anything after midnight. I understand why, but being told you can't have and/or do something always makes it that much harder for me. So, when I woke up that morning, I was already a bit pissy. I always wake up thirsty and there was no water in my world that morning. *grumble*
We got there at 1030 and I turned in a medical records release for FMLA that I shouldn't have even had to do cuzz they don't NEED to give my medical records to Human Resources, they just need to write everything down on the application, but if they really want to give HR the power to read about my hoo-hoo and my caustic uterus, then by all means let them have at it!
So, we get there and go up to the 2nd floor to the waiting room. This family of three cut me off on the way up to the desk and then proceeded to be stupid, so I made a bit of a show out of reading the sign and signing in like someone who isn't too stupid to read signs. (Hmm... Think the hormones were a raging perhaps?) We sat there for a bit and my mommy came down (she works for the legal dept at the hospital I was at) and I got called back at about 11. Vitals were checked and I peed in the cup on command and put on the gown and sat on the little bed and waited.
And, you guessed it! Waited some more.
After an hour of waiting for them to just at least let my mom and Greg come keep me company, I asked a nurse what the hold up was. (I was actually very polite. I start out sweet and get bitchy only when needed when people will be cutting me with sharp things.) They told me that I needed to have an IV first and then they would allow my family to come back. I sat back down on the bed and had just lifted my feet onto it when a two nurse team came in just as happy and peppy as could be! (Guess I just needed to remind someone I was there?) The one nurse got me to sign all sorts of shit and the other one actually got my IV going on the first try. That is pretty much unheard of when it comes to me and my veins. They were in and they were back out and my people were brought in to entertain me.
We waited some more and they came in to explain that my doc was held up and was running behind. We were all kinda expecting that since he delivers the bitty bitty babies and they don't like to keep on a schedule like good bitty bitty babies. They had shift change and I got the nurse who had no people skills at all. I had versaid (I think that's how it's spelled) in my system and was a bit giggly and maybe semi-retarded and he would just stare at me. Stare at me like I was ET and he wasn't impressed cuzz I wasn't a klingon or some shit. He comes to take me to the room of the cutting and told Greg that the doc had just said he expected to be looking around in meh belleh (hehe. I heart Fat Bastard) for at least an hour. Greg said he was gonna go get something to eat and I was on my drugged up way.
I was cracking jokes and shit in the OR cuzz I am awesome when on teh drugz and was generally a delight to be around. (Shut up! I was!) I moved onto the teeny tiny little table thingie in the room and they strapped me down to it. Now, this was not something I knew was going to happen and it was not a good thing that happened. I am weird about being tied down and what not. In some instances, I like it. (rawr!) In most instances, though, I panic. I can't even sleep in a sleeping bag that's zipped up. When they strapped me down with out even telling me that they were going to do it, well, I became a little less than pleasant. There were tears and cussing and ordering of the anesthesiologist to take the bouffant cap off my eyes or he was going to lose his wee little willy. (Yeah, I remember putting it that way.) They quickly told me that they were going to make me go to sleep after that.
The next thing I remember is waking up and not being able to breathe. AT ALL. I think I woke up with a tube still in my throat. Then I remember being wheeled down the hallway very quickly. Finally, I heard a nurse telling me that I had woken up incredibly hard from the anesthetic and that I needed to calm down. Panic ensued, but eventually I could breathe again. I got a lot of pain killers. Then they wheeled me to a different room and gave me Vernor's and a blueberry muffin. Greg came back and made fun of me for looking like a little kid with my Vernor's and muffin. I asked him if the doctor had come out to talk to him.
This is where I began to think that it was simply a waste of my time.
He told me that he left to eat and was gone for maybe half an hour. Remember now, he was told a minimum of one hour in surgery. When he came back, the nurse saw him and told him that the doc was looking for him about ten minutes prior. That means that he had me in the room and looked at in 20 minutes tops.
20 fucking minutes.
He came out and told Greg that he didn't see anything. Now, we don't know if that means that he didn't see anything new or that he didn't see anything at all. I'm hoping that maybe it means nothing new, though I'm betting it means nothing at all. At any rate, I'll find out in about a week and a half.
I have an appointment with my family doc Wednesday to get more pain killers and let them steal my blood. I'll be requesting an MRI and/or CAT scan at that time. I've never had either one, which is odd. I'll also be requesting a second opinion. I feel incredibly let down by this doctor who told me that he would help me. He told me before we went in that if he didn't find anything that he could fix, he would help me manage my pain long term. Mind you, this is the same doc that refused to write me prescriptions when he found out that my family doc had me on Dilaudid. He also made sure to mention that I needed to get into see the urologist for my Interstitial Cystitis in front of my mom, so I can't conveniently forget again. Heh. Looks like I'll actually be bald this year after all.
And, to top it all off, girly time decided that Saturday would be a good time to show up after a 6 month hiatus. Let me be the first to assure you that girly time is PISSED OFF about being gone for so long! And also? For some reason, I am not allowed to having anything in the hoo-hoo (don't you just love TMI? It's so FUN!) for two weeks, so I get to feel extra icky. Wee ha!
I might be back later tonight to bitch about Greg leaving to go to Kentucky and being a complete dick about the whole thing and my spending Christmas with my FIVE (you missed one, Cricket!) cats and a half gallon (ok, prolly not that much) vodka. We'll have to see if I get to tanked at the family's house that I'll be going to tonight. Since it's not family that I know very well, it's going to be awkward, which means it'll be prime drinking time. Also, I'm trying to decide if I should go home and put on a sweater jacket thing and relatively nice shoes and maybe a bit of make up before I go over there when I get out of work, or if I should just show up in my tennis shoes, black elastic banded pants (jeans are still a bit too restricting, which pisses me off) and Zelda sweatshirt with merely eye brows (which are expertly drawn on thankyouverymuch) and mascara.
I hope you enjoyed that run on sentence, it's your Christmas present. I'm so fucking generous :-P