It’s Wednesday night , so the story continues. We left off last week with my stomach pain getting more intense.
I didn’t really know what to do. I’d already mentioned it in the hospital, and no one seemed to think anything of it. (Granted, it had gotten markedly worse since then.)
It always took weeks to get an appointment with my doctor. I didn’t want to go to an urgent care for something I’d already mentioned at a hospital. I just kept putting off the now somewhat blinding pain.
It got to the point where I could barely move. I thought, “okay, so I can’t live like this. I can’t function. I kind of think this is intense enough now to go to the hospital.” (Tsk, tsk, tsk.)
I can’t actually remember if I took an ambulance or I walked. I remember I debated it because I didn’t want to waste an ambulance that someone else might have needed. I wasn’t literally dying. I remember it was extremely hard to move and walk, but the hospital wasn’t all that far from me. So, I want to say that I walked. But I don’t remember if I had the ability at the time.
Either way, I ended up in the ER. Again. It may not come across in this story, because I complain so much as I remember it all – but at the time, I was often (almost always) all smiles and laughs with the doctors and nurses. We rocked out to “Thriller” together. We told jokes and learned about each other’s lives. If you forgot about all the bad stuff that was happening, in some ways it was fun, sometimes.
A friendly nurse who I had seen during my other trips to the ER, was working the day I came in with my stomach pain. As I sat in the bed in my little bay, or whatever little curtained off areas are called in the ER, I cried softly. I was in so much pain that I couldn’t stop the tears. I made as little sound as possible because, you know, I was in an ER. People with real problems were there. I didn’t want to be such a wuss who couldn’t deal with her poor wittle tummy.
The nurses face was shocked when he came in and saw that I was crying. He was so sweet. He said he was surprised to see me like that. Usually I would be sitting in bed working, greeting anyone who came in with a smile. He assured me they’d figure out what was wrong.
For those of you who’ve been reading the blog lately, you may be thinking, “Aurora, I don’t see what the big deal is. It sounds like you cry all the time.” Well, okay, yes. I cry over the things that matter – theater, improv, dreams, you know, important stuff. And I certainly did cry sometimes in the hospital, when it came to dreams and important stuff that I’d have to miss out on.
But I didn’t cry all that often in there. The first few visits were mainly filled with confusion, and trying to figure things out. I also kept thinking I’d be done at any moment. I didn’t realize a saga was unfolding. So, there wasn’t a whole lot to cry about in the beginning. I’m sure we’re in for more crying later, though.
Back the the stomach pain – it turns out, I had an ulcer. I think they said that one of the medicines I was on could’ve caused it. (I’m sure stress probably helped.) I don’t remember how they treat ulcers. Whatever happened, eventually I got to go home.
Oh boy. Slowly deteriorating. Slowly going crazier.
And this is where I’ll pick up next week.