Saturday, September 27, I requested to be admitted on Monday morning, so there was no need for me to wait for expert care. I went home. I slept all day Sunday, and right around dinner time I decided to have a slice of the kids’ pizza. LAWD…why?! Within 10 minutes my body felt like all 15 feet of my intestines were trying to forcefully escape my body. Oh the pain! D immediately yelled for the girls to pack me a small bag and we were off to the ER, once again.
There was no triage, they took me back and set me up with a room. The Attending came over and said we are going to get you Morphine for the pain. I looked at D and asked him to call my mother to ask about a non-opioid alternative for the pain. She asked my sister who suggested, Toradol. When the nurse came around to administer the IV morphine, I said to her, “I don’t want that. Can you please give me Toradol?” She looked at her screen and said, “OK. Let me get the doctor.” Within seven minutes, she came back with the IV Toradol for the pain. Once it was administered, my body was able to relax enough for me to take a quick nap. When I woke up from my 15 minute nap, I noticed my goddaughter was in the room with us. It was such a pleasant surprise. D called her to stay the night so he could go home to prepare for work and the kids.
Once I was officially admitted the barrage of bloodletting began. In total, 19 vials of blood over my three day stay; three of these were blood culture bottles (think: nip, shot bottles of alcohol). After meeting the oncologist assigned to me, he sent an order for a paracentesis to drain the excessive fluid from my abdomen. The procedure generated 1500cc of fluid (~51 fl oz).
The procedure was completed with no complications. However, later that night I developed a fever. A fever in a hospital?! Good Gosh we must fix! Here is one of many gripes with allopathic medicine (my common sense radar going off): You poke a needle into my side to drain fluid that has caused excessive inflammation and my body’s response is to what? ignore the hole in my side? Needless to say I was given an unnecessary antibiotic. My fever broke in less than eight hours.
Overall, my stay was uneventful. On my last day in the hospital I made the strong suggestion that I needed to be discharged. The oncologist’s course of action was to keep me in the hospital until the results of the paracentesis and blood culture came in. Once the results arrived he was prepared to put in a port to begin a round of chemo. Nigga what?! When I tell you I was perplexed as to how he thought I would agree to such a profane plan to defile my already compromised body. BUT, this is standard process of care for my situation. Most people do not question, the “expert’s” recommendations.
Living where we live the selection of top-tier hospitals doesn’t exist without at minimum an hour’s drive. Between the wait to see an oncologist, the poor food quality, and the rooms with no shower, I was over it. On September 30, I woke up and told my nurse to let the doctor know I want to be discharged today. Of course offense was taken, a dietitian and someone from Patient Advocacy was sent to the room. Long story short, I was discharged with an appointment for out-patient procedures, without a port.
