I’ve posted it before. Those of you familiar with me will not be surprised it’s a kidney stone story!
Hospital with kidney stone on Sunday morning. Pain and nausea controlled with IV meds, given 'scripts for nausea and strong pain meds to take home.
Hubby had to head for work Monday morning, but got his Mom to sit with me. The hospital had told me that if I developed a fever, I should come right back. My MIL tried for hours to talk me into going back to the hospital, but I was convinced that if I could just sleep long enough, I’d be fine. Finally, she got my hubby on the phone, and he forced me to go to the ER. A combination of strong narcotics and fever-induced delirium were causing me not to think very clearly! (Hah! I remember having conversations with my MIL in which she was not participating!)
By the time I got there, my temp was 104.7 and my BP was roughly 60/20. The stone had completely blocked the ureter, and urine was backing up into my blood stream. Apparently, this is not a ‘good thing’.
Unbeknownst to me, the doc told my hubby I only had a small chance of making it through the next 72 hours, but if I could make it through that, I’d likely be OK.
During that time, there were times when my temp spiked up over 105. I was on multiple IV antibiotics.
I spent a week in the hospital, but it was only after about four days that I thought “Oh, shit! I almost died!”
I was too sick to know how sick I was.
Wanna know how sick I was? My husband is an avowed atheist. He actually went to the chapel in the hospital and prayed to a God he didn’t believe in, but certainly hoped was there!
From then on, anytime I have kidney-area pain and my temp reaches above 101, it’s hospital time!
*A bit of doctor-related weirdness: in the first couple of days, the only thing that made me feel any better at all was Tylenol, because it brought the fever down. But my doc said he didn’t want me having Tylenol, because he wanted to use the fever (or reduction thereof) as a diagnostic tool; now, to some degree, that sounds reasonable. BUT on my third day in the hospital, I got my period, had cramps, asked for something for the cramps, and what did my doctor give me? Tylenol with codeine. :smack:
It really bothers me that I cannot donate blood anymore. Appearantly, Hep C exposure had made things so silly here that me, who got the shots, has the antibodies, so they throw my blood away and tell me to never darken their door again
When I was a kid, my younger brother and I were playing in the river. We were out fairly deep, but it was still shallow. Then stepped into a steep drop off. Neither of us could swim. My mom’s then boyfriend rescued the both of us from drowning.
Next to some of your experiences, mine pales in comparison, but a couple years ago I got in a nasty wreck. I was making a left turn into a southbound lane of a rural highway, from a stop sign, and the northbound lane had a turn lane - a large delivery van was in the turn lane, obscuring a Nissan Xterra that slammed into my left front fender doing at least 70mph.
While the crash looked pretty bad, I didn’t break any bones, just a very badly strained shoulder, a slight concussion and some assorted cuts and bruises. If I’d have been a foot further forward when I got hit, however, I would have been a goner.
Funny enough, the closer brush with death came immediately after the crash. The car spun through 540 degrees, and when it stopped, someone ran up and said my car was on fire (all the fluid lines were severed and some of it had flared up) so I did a Dukes of Hazzard out the window, and, still dazed, began to wander over across the highway to where the Xterra had come to a stop to make sure the other driver was ok (she was in way better shape than I was as it turned out). But while the westbound traffic behind me had stopped, the north/south traffic had not - one of the bystanders had to grab my arm just in time to keep me from walking right through traffic.
I had been going through a rough patch. I was suicidal. I purchased the best ammunition money could buy for such a thing. (Designed to quickly expand in a human body and maximize damage.) Loaded the handgun, put the muzzle in my mouth, pulled the trigger–click.
After throwing up, I cried for about an hour, cleaned up the mess, and thanked my lucky stars for the defective round. I still have it–keep it in my pocket to remind me of how lucky I am to be alive.
