It’s not good up here when it’s not good down there

It may be awhile before my next post; I’ve been dealing with some health issues and right now they’re all I can focus on.  And thanks to 21st century medicine, I have to begin jumping thru hoops (aka “specialists”) before I can get some answers.

While writing my last post (about escaping from the Planet of the Tromps—heh) I’d been experiencing several days of discomfort & abdominal swelling, unable to eat more than a couple forkfuls of anything.  (On Halloween, I was barely able to get down half a scrambled egg; on my birthday!) 

So later that blog-day I made some rice & broccoli, consumed 2 forkfuls—then called my PCP in a panic after my stomach closed up and my head turned red-hot.  She directed me to the nearest emergency room, which turned out to be a CLOSED emergency room.  (It had been converted into an “Urgent Care Unit”  for sore throats & boo-boos in 2010.)  

NOTE TO SELF:  FIND A NEW PCP.

The following morning my sister Shawn & brother-in-law Jim took me to UPMC Passavant, who in turn took blood, urine, cat-scanned me and said they didn’t see anything, other than gallstones & a “non-alcoholic fatty liver”.   Could that be what’s causing all my abdominal issues?   “It could!  You should drink a lot more water.”

After a worrisome and uncomfortable weekend, this past Monday the left side of my body burst into flame—well, that’s what it felt like—forcing me to call 911 to take me to the Emergency room.  I grunted to the paramedics I’d just been to UPMC Passavant a couple days before.  The one medic said “You mean UPMC Pass Away?  If you have a real emergency, you should go downtown to Mercy.”   Mercy it is!   We arrived in no time at all, and my stretcher was parked in the hallway for 4-5 hours before someone could see me.   But by then, the pain had pretty much dissipated; they still took x-rays, blood & urine though, and suggested I see a urologist and a gastroenterologist.

(When I told them about going to UPMC Passavant on Friday, one of the nurses said “Oh that hospital is so pretty!  I hear every patient gets a room of their own and sees a doctor right away” and my doctor said “Well, you didn’t get that here but city hospitals are more up-to-date.”)

I thanked them profusely, and wearing the surgical scrubs and oversized Mercy Hospital t-shirt they gave me (after the nurse splattered blood on my clothes) I walked down the street into downtown Pittsburgh, just in time for rush hour.  I watched as office workers & professionals hurried home, some taking quick glances in my direction as they moved along.  With my baggy outfit and hair sticking up at all angles, I looked like one of those homeless people that seem to sprout up everywhere from 5-7pm.  I wanted to yell “I’M NOT A HOMELESS PERSON!  A FEW YEARS AGO I WAS ONE OF YOU!”   

I made it to my old bus stop (the last time I caught a bus there was my final day of work, nearly 4 years ago) as a 19L pulled up, and I stumbled on.  Clutching a wad of dollar bills, I shakily tried to slide 3 ones into the machine while people and their Connect Cards waited behind me, shaking their heads.  

I know, people—I know! 

As I took my seat and watched weary bodies get on, I recognized several faces from my former working days.  (Wow, I was shocked how much older they looked, compared to the days when I rode with them daily.)   A few recognized me too and nodded in my direction, while a couple of them did double-takes; based on my appearance, they probably figured I’d fallen on hard times.  

I suddenly missed my old working days downtown very much.

When I got home, I called my sister to tell her of my big hospital adventure, then plopped on my couch in relief; I figured the worst was behind me.  Well, I hoped it was.  Boy was I in for a surprise!

On Tuesday (the day before yesterday) I woke up—made a cup of coffee—showered & hurried downstairs to the church next door to cast my vote, and joked with the workers there about coming back later to cast my second ballot.  Then I casually ambled back to my apartment, just in time for my left flank & lower back to bloom into painful flame.  It was even worse than the day before.

Sonofabitch!   I paced my apartment the entire day, sure that it was a kidney stone.  (I have a feeling, given the last week or so, it’s been more than one.  Maybe they’re in battle with my gallstones.)   As I debated going back to the ER for my THIRD visit in 4-5 days, I remembered a prescription for Flo-Max I’d gotten 18 months prior for a kidney stone.  I ran & swallowed one, and a good pee later, felt the fire in my flank & lower back die down.   I watched the Democrats take back the House in relative peace.

And now, 2 days later I sit here feeling shaky, sore (and other than occasional jabs and an annoying sensation in my abdomen) mostly pain free.  I’ve been guzzling a lot of water, and reading up on bus routes for next week when I visit a gastro specialist on Monday and a urologist on Thursday.  Different hospitals, different parts of the city.   I’m praying I don’t hear the “c” word, but if they tell me they can’t find anything wrong I’m gonna be plenty sore!