It all started quite suddenly Monday night. Out of blue, I felt a sharp stabbing pain in my lower right abdomen. This same pain radiated around to my lower back. "Like a hot poker," I would hear myself say multiple times when asked to describe the pain. After several hours of struggling to find a comfortable position, I took a rogue hydrocodone - - left over from a previous dental procedure - - which allowed me to lie down, but sleep eluded me all night.
At dawn, I took another pain pill and wondered what to do. "Maybe you should call your doctor," Ayla texted. When she texted this, the second pill was still taking the edge off, so I stored her suggestion away for another time.
But the edge soon returned. And the third pain pill took longer to kick in. Feeling a little scared now because the pain was that bad, I did call my doctor. Much to my surprise, I was scheduled for a face time appointment with her. She listened to my story and asked me to describe my pain.
"Like a hot poker," I said.
Fever? she asked. No.
Nausea? No.
Blood? No.
She recommended I go see a doctor in person who was in the same medical group but in a different office location. An hour later , Ayla drove me to Dr. Ellis' office and waited for me outside. I shook off my sudden vision for how Ayla's next thirty years were starting to unfold, and waited for the nurse to unlock the office door. Dr. Ellis listened to my story. Yes. The pain came on quite suddenly, I said. Like a hot poker, I said next. No. No fever. No nausea. No blood. He manipulated my right leg in one direction and then in the other. I didn't moan, scream or wince. He had me hop up and down. Then he took his fingers and poked and prodded around in my soft belly flesh until he found The Spot. I moaned, screamed and winced. Dr. Ellis looked perplexed. He felt it was probably my appendix but given how the pain presented itself, more diagnostic testing was needed. I was offered either going to an independent diagnostic provider or to the hospital. He then presented me with all the reasons why going to the hospital was the preferred option. It basically came down the hospital offering one stop shopping: the hospital could both diagnose and treat whatever was the source of my debilitating pain. He assured me that if any place knew how to keep my potential exposure to the Covid virus to a minimum, it was the people at the hospital. He would call and let them know I was on my way.
Ayla drove me to the emergency room entrance of St Anthony's hospital. Once confirmed Dr. Ellis had prepared them for my visit, I waved Ayla on home and proceeded to be processed and admitted so quickly that I was left a little breathless. The attending physician heard my hot poker story. When he asked about fever, nausea or blood, I already knew my negative response to each would not be well received. They collected some blood and urine, and then wheeled into the CT Exam room. As explained beforehand, the contrasting dye put into my IV for the test, filled my mouth with the taste of a penny and made me feel like I wet my pants. I was grateful for the forewarning.
At some point I was given Fentanyl for my pain. I cannot recall if it was before, or after, the CT scan. But I do recall that as this notorious pain killer started to ooze into my veins, every speck of pain I ever had in my life washed away with it. Not only was my hot poker pain gone, but so was every other ache and pain in my body. No more achy shoulders, feet or knees. No. Pain. Whatsoever. It was glorious.
Soon, the attending physician presented me with the results of the scan. It was most definitely NOT my appendix. It also didn't appear to be my ovaries or diverticulitis. In short, the CT scan had not revealed a source of my hot poker pain. However, the scan did reveal ANOTHER potentially serious problem. At the base of my stomach there appeared to be something pooching almost thru my stomach lining. He said he consulted with the GI team and all were agreed that this was a concern. Then the doctor paused, pulled up a chair and sat down next to me at eye level and leaned in a bit when he said his next words. "I want to admit you for the night here in the hospital and have the GI team run additional tests in the morning. I don't advise you going home until we have a better idea what this other issue is."
And that is how my overnight stay happened. I was no closer to knowing what had caused my excruciating pain that got me there, but I now had another issue that seemed to require immediate and aggressive attention.
I took a minute to process all that he said. If the fear of this unrelenting hot poker pain got me to the hospital, the potential of whatever was in my gut possibly puncturing my stomach while I slept convinced me to stay there.
In short order I was wheeled from ED UNIT 1, Room 30, to ED UNIT 2, Room 20. The entire hospital had been rearranged to accommodate the Covid crisis. Room 20 where I was to spend the night, wasn't a real hospital room. It was a converted examination room. The examination table was replaced with a hospital bed. A TV was crammed up high next to the ceiling. My bathroom was somewhere down the hall. The room had no windows. The nurse who wheeled me there tried to up-sell the room by pointing out how it did have a window on the door. I could at least see out to the hallway. I didn't have pj's or a toothbrush or a comb. Just me and my cloth mask and my phone. No visitors were allowed. I didn't want to ask Ayla to drive all the way back to the hospital just to bring me overnight provisions. She already took half a day from work to chauffeur me around and now it fell to her to figure out how to care for my many animals. I slept in my underwear.
That's a lie. I did not sleep this night either. The many tubes attached to my body, the intermittent beeps from the host of machinery surrounding my bed, and the near constant noise from the hallway beyond my closed door, in addition to all the noise inside my own head, kept any hope of sleep at bay.
Blood was taken at various intervals throughout the night. I felt the twinge of the hot poker pain trying to make a reappearance during the night, but by morning it was all but gone. In the morning, a series of doctors and other medical professionals came to room to poke and prod on my belly and to ask the same set of questions about fever, nausea or blood. The fact that I have been taking 600 mg of ibuprofen regularly to address all my usual aches and pains became a focal point. I was scheduled for a series of tests that didn't allow me to have anything to eat or drink. The scope down thru my mouth to my stomach and upper intestine revealed my stomach lining was inflamed and there was some bacterial infection on my upper intestine. This is what appeared in the CT scan as something about to perforate my stomach. I'm still waiting for more details from the biopsy, but the end result is that this potentially fatal condition in my gut - - that was found quite by accident - - was found early enough for a successful intervention.
An ultrasound test confirmed my ovaries were not the cause of my hot poker pain. My right ovary appeared quite healthy and my left ovary was no longer visible. What? I asked. Yes. Ovaries shrink after menopause. Some shrink so much that they shrivel up and are undetected. Such was the fate of my left ovary. Who knew?!
In the end, my original hot poker pain remains undiagnosed. Possibly an inflamed adrenal gland. Or an aggravated ligament. I was given a Class 5 narcotic to take should that extreme pain ever return. Enough drugs to ride it out. I was discharged later that evening.
When I returned home, I was drained. My animals were delighted to see me, but I only had enough energy to feed them and go to bed. I can't believe I didn't shower or put my clothes in a plastic bag to be laundered. I was just too tired.
And I slept again most of today. I'm trying to find my new normal without ibuprofen. I'm trying not to grieve the loss of my left ovary. I'm trying to find peace with needing to lean on Ayla more. I'm counting fourteen days into the future before I'll feel like I survived my night in a hospital during a pandemic.
Sometimes the light's all shinin' on me
Other times, I can barely see
Lately, it occurs to me
What a long, strange trip it's been
