Just a hemicolectomy (II)
Days passed by, my abdomen was swollen and I needed more time resting. My health was worsening slowly. The GP checked me and prescribed similar medications to those prescribed in the Emergency Room.
On Sat July 24th, two weeks after the first emergency, after having a walk I fell asleep. After half an hour I was woken up by a strong pain in my abdomen. I stood up hoping it would go away, but it was worse.
I asked my parent to take me to the clinic again. This time there was no car at home and we had to take a cab. I waited in the living room trying to control the overwhelming pain I couldn't almost even walk with and damped in sweat. I could only watch the floor and breathe deeply.
After midnight, the cab arrived and me and my father went to the clinic. Doors closed, I knocked as hard as I could and the watchman appeared, and then the guy at the reception. He asked for my details, but I could only give my ID to my father and tried to get a seat in the waiting room supporting myself on the walls. As there weren't any more patients, the doctor saw me and he diagnosed the same: Chronic gastritis.
I was placed in a different strechter, with some other patients who also tried to sleep on the hard surfaces. Now I remember that I almost was feeling bad for howling while the pain killer worked, while my father tried to keep my hands warm between his.
The pain killer started to work and I could lay to try to sleep. My father went back home and I was there with the other patients. The lady on my right had a fish bone in het throat and it could be removed later without surgery.
I don't remember anymore the other patients that night; I remember some of the other two: A teenager who fell and seemed to have a fracture but it turned out to be something else; A young woman who had backaches for not going down from her heels; and a lady with an abdominal pain too, who tried to distract her pain by hitting herself in the gut, while she yelled at her husband not to let her die.
Going to the toilet was something chaotic in the beginning. The first time I went to ask the nurse for toilet paper, so I took the saline solution bag with me. When I reached the nurse I was about to faint and the hose filled with blood. In addition there was no toilet paper for the patients: every patient should have his/her own stuff. One had to take the bags support to the small (very!)toilet and place it in such a way to door could be closed.
Nights weren't cozy: my condition didn't allow me to sleep easily. Neither I could sit on the stretcher because it could slide. Being sat in a chair wasn't the solution either. Those nights were endless.
Next Tuesday midday, barely strong enough to move by myself I was discharged with the same diagnosis than two weeks before. Fortunately a friend arrived then, he could aask for the medication and go with me home in a cab.
On Sat July 24th, two weeks after the first emergency, after having a walk I fell asleep. After half an hour I was woken up by a strong pain in my abdomen. I stood up hoping it would go away, but it was worse.
I asked my parent to take me to the clinic again. This time there was no car at home and we had to take a cab. I waited in the living room trying to control the overwhelming pain I couldn't almost even walk with and damped in sweat. I could only watch the floor and breathe deeply.
After midnight, the cab arrived and me and my father went to the clinic. Doors closed, I knocked as hard as I could and the watchman appeared, and then the guy at the reception. He asked for my details, but I could only give my ID to my father and tried to get a seat in the waiting room supporting myself on the walls. As there weren't any more patients, the doctor saw me and he diagnosed the same: Chronic gastritis.
I was placed in a different strechter, with some other patients who also tried to sleep on the hard surfaces. Now I remember that I almost was feeling bad for howling while the pain killer worked, while my father tried to keep my hands warm between his.
The pain killer started to work and I could lay to try to sleep. My father went back home and I was there with the other patients. The lady on my right had a fish bone in het throat and it could be removed later without surgery.
I don't remember anymore the other patients that night; I remember some of the other two: A teenager who fell and seemed to have a fracture but it turned out to be something else; A young woman who had backaches for not going down from her heels; and a lady with an abdominal pain too, who tried to distract her pain by hitting herself in the gut, while she yelled at her husband not to let her die.
Going to the toilet was something chaotic in the beginning. The first time I went to ask the nurse for toilet paper, so I took the saline solution bag with me. When I reached the nurse I was about to faint and the hose filled with blood. In addition there was no toilet paper for the patients: every patient should have his/her own stuff. One had to take the bags support to the small (very!)toilet and place it in such a way to door could be closed.
Nights weren't cozy: my condition didn't allow me to sleep easily. Neither I could sit on the stretcher because it could slide. Being sat in a chair wasn't the solution either. Those nights were endless.
Next Tuesday midday, barely strong enough to move by myself I was discharged with the same diagnosis than two weeks before. Fortunately a friend arrived then, he could aask for the medication and go with me home in a cab.
posted by Carlos @ 8:33 PM
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