Upon unpacking my overnight bag from my most recent hospital stay I realized the following things:
Another little step for me, and an inspiring giant leap for fashion-conscious hospital diva-patients everywhere (well, at least I hope!)
My goal after every hospitalization.
I weighed 8kg more than normal when I was forced to step on my nemesis, the horrific scale, while in the ER on Wednesday and Thursday. My sudden weight gain was due to an insane amount of trapped fluid, air, bile, and baby food that had accumulated in my intestine and stomach while my digestive tract shut down, yet again. I really wish it was due to “eatin good” like this chick and feasting on bonbons and ice cream sundaes! So is the rough life living with gastroparesis and chronic intestinal pseudo-obstructions. I looked nine months pregnant and felt like it, too. The ER doctor ever so kindly described my belly as a “balloon about to pop.” Super cute, right? The good news is I’m down 6kg and am out of the hospital! But 8kg, woof. It never gets any easier or less frustrating when your stretchy pants don’t stretch, even if just temporarily. Pregnancy better be a breeze after dealing with these frequent (and worsening) episodes of abdominal distention.
Really hoping to sleep through the pain tonight!
"This whole being sick thing is getting real old" - says the healthy person who has a fever and strep throat.
Yeah, too bad you’ll stop being sick in a week or two. Try living with it for the rest of your life, then it really gets old, real quick.
Late night partying in the ER with this guy #musthavestolenmybenadryl (at St. Vincent’s Medical Center, Bridgeport CT)
Seven days and several phone calls later, I have still yet to hear back from my new GI regarding the abnormal results of last week’s gastric emptying testing and concerns for this week’s scheduled upper GI study.
I get that doctors are busy. We all are. But when a doctor receives countless time sensitive phone calls from a worried patient, and gives countless broken promises to call them back before the end of the day, everyday, well I think that’s grounds for breaking up.
What peeves me most is this doctor’s utter disconcern for my health. I’m calling because the test she ordered for me to do Thursday could potentially send me straight into the hospital, again. The dummy ordered a test using barium, a substance that does not react well with my body. Rather than passing through my digestive tract, last time I had drank it, it sat and turned solid in my intestines, putting me in the ICU for an additional 8 days longer than I should have been. Of course, my new GI would know this if she had looked at my charts. SMH. I’m just lucky I had the common sense to research the procedure beforehand.
On top of that, I’m still waiting for her to apologize for giving me a completely wrong prognosis. According to the radiologist I just got off the phone with who was kind enough to review last week’s test results with me, not only do I have gastroparesis (as my new GI’s receptionist told me I have), but I also have something called dyssergia, too (simply put my stomach and small intestine muscles are not in sync). The test also showed food reflux, which explains why I’m nauseous all the time and have a hard time eating. I am frustrated because I don’t have the slightest idea why the last two pretty interesting findings were not shared with me by my GI’s staff. “Just eat more, and you’ll feel better!” the stupid GI had originally told me. What an a**.
Sorry for venting. Doctors who don’t listen really upset me. You wait months for an appointment, scrounge up all your medical files and test results, research every treatment method under the sun, write down every morsel you eat and every symptom you feel daily, for a false hope that they’ll help you- only for them to give you 15 minutes of their time and a generic diagnosis without looking at anything you brought or really hearing anything you say. And then that’s it. You leave in tears and they don’t give you or your pain a second thought. If she ever does call me, I’m telling her we’re done.
The results of my gastric emptying test revealed I have significantly delayed stomach emptying. The nurse who read the results said this means it looks like I have gastroparesis. I’m STILL waiting a call back from my new GI to confirm the diagnosis and give me the apology I believe I deserve. I’m starting to think she’s never going to give me either. She started me on gastroparesis meds over the weekend, so I know she knows the results. I think she’s just being a stubborn diva and doesn’t want to admit she was wrong in assuming all I need to do is eat to magically feel better. My surgeon had long assumed I had gastroparesis and I feel nearly relieved to now have the test proof to shove in my new GI’s face, followed by a big “I told you so!” Mwahaha. I’m horrible. But she was horrible for making me feel crazy and do the Kim Kardashian ugly cry.