Wednesday, July 28, 2010

I'm Backkkk (use a creepy voice to read that)

So here's the latest and greatest.

Just a few days ago I was thinking to myself, "Hey! Maybe I'll actually have time to blog when I head to North Carolina for vacation." I guess I got my wish early.

I'm in the hospital. I have been admitted and am currently begrudgingly attached to an IV of Heparin.

Keep in mind, this is the super abridged version!

Almost exactly 49 months ago, I was admitted to this same hospital for the same problem. After four failed diagnoses by a shit doctor, I was finally starting to feel better after being unable to eat, walk, or be comfortable. A week after my initial pain, doctors discovered blood clots around my stomach. I was immediately put on a Heparin dip and then was taught to administer Lovenox shots to my stomach (which my aunt was later required to do because I'm a baby) and then started a Coumadin regimen for the next year. After a year, my hematologist and I discussed going off the the meds and monitoring my health, which I did.

Flash forward 3 years.

I have mild stomach cramps and thought I made the mistake of telling my mom. Knowing my history, she 'strongly encouraged' me to go to the doctor, i.e. 'Go or I'll be mad at you.' So I called up my hematologist and he made an appointment for a 'STAT Cat Scan.' This made me feel very important. I left work with the intentions of returning the same day and made my way down the five blocks to the hospital. I notified my super awesome boyfriend, Cta, and told him it was no big deal because I was just doing it to make my mom happy.

She was right about him, I should have known better.

He showed up and we waited.

We read Us Weekly.

We read Better Homes and Gardens.

He read Time.

I got blood drawn.

We waited.

We made the nurse uncomfortable with our politically incorrect ranting.

We waited.

I got a Cat Scan with color contrast.

I thought I peed myself (look it up-its nuts).

We waited.

And waited.

Finally the nurse came in and I asked if I could head out.

She got all serious and told me they couldn't reach my doctor.

She told me I had a blood clot.


I swore at the nurse.

I cried.

Cta had never seen me cry.

He took it well.

He's a trooper.

Then I got pissed.

I have things to do. I have a wedding in 10 days. I have miles to run, and jewelry to make, a dress to pick up, hair to be done, work to go to, and oh ya, NOT A HOSPITAL TO BE IN. Cta pulled the Jasper mind control thing and I calmed down. Things got back into perspective. I'm not going to die. I'm going to be here. Work isn't going to burn down. I will be up and running soon enough for the wedding and my week long vacation to Topsail Island. I have insurance and an absolutely amazing support network around me. At best, this is a major inconvenience and something that I'll learn to deal with.

I am loved and I will be fine.

Especially when I have best friends like this:

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