It was a day of mishaps and amazing moments of disbelieve that ridiculously often happens to me. I know I’m different but really…seriously?
Often when I see my doc she ends up shrugging her shoulders in the now familiar way to denote that “well you are Michelle”, as though this is an actual diagnosis. Even at the medical marijuana dispensary they have taken to looking at me in the same way, again as though it just simply is.
So we start the day at radiology at the UW medical center. There they torture me with the drinking of contrast (radioactive dye) that makes me ill as it always does. I really don’t give a frak if it tastes like water, it feels like poison. Even after explaining to them that my doctor said I did not have to drink, they said he ordered it, therefore I must. They were wrong. Asshats.
After drinking what I believed would appear to be my best attempt, I informed the front desk of this with my most emphatic “I’m going to vomit on your desk” face. With fear in their eyes they moved me right along to the IV nurse who was cute, sweet, and got me on one stick! I could have kissed her, with tongue and everything.
Soon thereafter I’m whisked off to the CT where intravenously, radioactive dye is dispensed throughout my entire body. A disconcerting sensation that makes you truly believe you have just pissed your pants. To buffer this I find amusement in the little characters that light up above my head on the big CT donut letting me know when I’m suppose to hold my breath. You know like a little cartoon head with big poofed out cheeks to note it’s time for you to hold your breath and then a big smiley face that lets you know it’s time to let go. I would like to think these are for children.
The CT was really fast and so I was off to sit a moment then released after having my lovely IV nurse to remove the needle in my arm. I am still pleased with her and kinda want to make out, but I haven’t the time and run off to my appt as I am late. As it turns out, so is my doc. So despite my being told by two peoples that my surgeon’s office had been informed as to my lateness, this did not happen. Asshats.
I sit and wait filling out more paperwork, my blood sugar drops dramatically. I had to fast four hours before my appt but really I cannot see how this has any bearing at all since I skip breakfast in an act of rebellion, all the time. So I suck on some candy I keep in my purse just for this “just in case” moment. But nothing happens. I start to feel sick enough that I actually ask for help at the front desk. They send a nurse with apple juice and graham crackers. Finally I feel a bit better but still very much playing the part of addict looking for my next fix. Neat.
Doc sends me off to eat because he and his med student want to read the CT report before we talk. So I eat. Egg salad sandwich, mocha and a muffin. Yea, I know, perhaps better choices could have been made but I was starting to feel more sickly and I was bound and determined to look less addict and way more needy in a “get this over with” way.
I return from my lunch feeling like something has horribly gone wrong. The doc says I have no lipomas but I don’t give a shit because I feel like I’m going to both vomit and pass out. Sweaty, breathless, and chilled…I was whisked off to the ER. This day was not done with me. Crap.
A large group of ER professionals surround me being that there is NO ONE waiting in the infamous UW ER!!
So after a large bag of fluids, I perk right the frak up. This means nothing to the bitch of a nurse who decided to not get me released before her shift change. The silver lining here is that my new nurse was amazing. It just took a while to see her, so we sat there. Well ok, I slept off the Benadryl as Terri sat there now pondering what the hell she was thinking that it was a good idea to go to Half Priced Books while I was at getting my radioactive on.
Hours later….my nurse says I’m almost ready to go. ER doc comes in and declares me hypoglycemic. Insert big frakking duh____here. My nurse however being all wise and wonderful explained about being dehydrated and it’s impact as well as other wise things that made me want to French her as well. But in the end we only hugged.
So Terri goes happily off to get the car. This is when I start to hear over and over again, “doctor what’s her face, come to the ER STAT!” To this my mind starts the mantra “frak…frak…frak”. Soon a flurry of chaos comes into view…a large portable x-ray machine, a baby warmer/bed thingy and far too many eager medical residents all lobbying to be in the room…the room directly across the hall from me. Hell I wanted to be in that room, for there was a woman who did NOT know she was pregnant and was giving birth…NOW.
This is when I declare that I am indeed in a Grey’s Anatomy Moment.
My nurse and ER doc keep telling me that they have not forgotten me, and well how could they since I was in my doorway craning my head to see the woman/girl giving birth! But I had no chance, she was surrounded by an army of “omg can you believe this” residents and doctors of all sorts. I’m not sure where they had room for the soon to be there new born. There were people lining the hall way hoping to get a glimpse just as much as I was, but of course they were wearing white lab coats and I was wearing a white wrist band. They win.
I at one point tell my nurse that I need to call Terri to let her know what’s going on and the only place you have cell service is in the lobby. She escorts me out and lets the reception peeps know I need to come back in after making my call. But Terri is in a parking spot that ironically is reserved for mothers to be. She sees me and starts the car and I start to wave wildly indicating that all is not well. So I tell her that Grey’s Anatomy is playing out right across the hall from me and that I have NO idea how much longer I will be. Now mind you I have my purse and no IV and I could get in the car and leave, but I am far too intrigued by what is happening inside than rebelling. Freaky.
I go back in and my nurse keeps coming in with any excuse (like running the IV bag fluid into my garbage can to make sure it was flowing) just to tell me how cool this is and that the ER is the best. She is an ICU nurse and so I liken her attitude to being like Christina from Grey’s Anatomy…”This is like candy…only with blood, which is so much better!” Again I want to make out with her.
Abruptly and suddenly too soon I am released from UW ER missing the babies birth but still with quite a tale to tell. A tale that will be added to so many others…like “Killer Pregnancies” or “The Brain Pain” and oh so many more. As I struggle to really get my memoir going, my life keeps writing stories of Michelle-isms and diagnosis. It’s fucking distracting dammit!
Oh and my “unique” fat lumps, well we shall call them…Michelle-omas.
For now.
