Friday, August 21, 2009

Direct admit

Over the last 36 hours, I have grown increasingly sick. I spent 19 hours in bed the night before last and most of the day yesterday, only getting up to fix the kids a quick bite to eat, apologize to them for killing the last days of their summer with my sickness, and go back to bed.

This morning, in the dim light of 6:15, I awoke from the pain. Everywhere. Throbbing pain in my head, shoulders, neck, hips, knees, even my ankles. And especially pain in my belly: shooting pain that makes my eyes squint shut. I was hot, alternating between sweating profusely or quaking and shivering with chills. I fumbled for the thermometer, waited for the beep and shuddered when I read it. 102. It was then I called the doctor's office.

Shortly after being admitted, I was taken to the ground floor for an ultrasound. It was then I saw the dark mass - about the size of a tennis ball - glowing behind my bladder that's been growing and making me sick.

I am now listening to some woman freaking out in the room next to me about God knows what, and to the steady hum of liquid Zosyn, a heavy-duty antibiotic, flowing through a bag of Sodium Chloride and into my veins. I find out shortly what the plan of action is to get this dark glowing mass out of me. There's talk of doing a painful, CAT-scan-assisted needle drain, but there's significant risk for further infection.

I just want my life back. Dog training starts in the next few weeks, and I won't have my plans for the season derailed by some post-operative infection.

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