Before I post this, I have to say that I was terribly phobic of hospitals. I fainted at one a while back and never went back again. I felt scared of them even if I wasn't in the area of where the patients are kept. I also hated elevators, but now I've been riding them like a pro.
I also have emetophobia, which is the phobia of vomiting. Yes, it is a real phobia, #7 on the top 10 list of phobias. So I had everything going against me...afraid I was going to faint, throw up, or have somone else throw up while I was there, or that I would pick up an stomach illness. When anything related to vomiting or catching a stomach virus is possible, I go into a major panic attack. So far, so good.
I ALSO suffer from migraines, and was fortunate to have an all-day one on this day, but luckily I had some Imitrex to help.
And one more thing...my dad is at the age in which he is forgetful and easily confused. I don't know if it's stress or if there is something wrong with him. So most of what went/is going on, he didn't understand, had to have it explained to him several times, asked the same questions all the time even though they had been answered, and would forget what was told to him or what he did a few hours earlier. This did not help the situation.
Back to the story...After finding my mom a bed, they got her up there and started her on fluids. She was in so much pain. She just kept saying, "It hurts so bad, please help me," and begging for some relief of the pain.
I can't believe they let her go so long being in pain. While in the hospital room, they didn't want to give her anything until they knew exactly what was wrong. I also can't believe I spent about 6 or 7 hours there when I'm so afraid of hospitals. I saw her hooked up to everything and was in the room when they did it. This is silly but I'm really proud myself. Before there was NO WAY I could do that. It was the worst I've ever seen her. So frail and weak and just begging for help to get rid of the pain in her leg.
She was also pretty out of it. I am just so damn mad at her doctor. We took her to see him right after her fall and he should have put in her in the hospital back then or even before that, because she lost so much weight in such a short time...150lbs to 118lbs in about a month or so, was feeling weak and tired, and started to lose her sense of taste. All she did was sleep. He knew her postassium levels were low. And then once we showed him the leg, he should have been more aggressive with his treatment. I thought that all along, even before she hurt her leg, but especially after.
As much as I couldnt stand it, I stayed with her the whole time. Around 5:30pm or so, they said they were going to do an MRI, so we left to take a break and came back around 7:00pm. Talk about a break! I broke down bawling and screaming about how unfair it all was and how scared I was; thinking the worst. I can't describe how I felt...scrared, yet numb, in fog, in a state of disbelief, I was mad at myself for not doing something sooner, mad at her doctor. I felt so lost. I finally calmed myself down and we prepared to go back.
When we got back after a few hours, around 9:30 pm (after visiting hours, which end at 9pm), the doctor said he wanted to give her a blood transfusion and put her up in the ICU. That totally freaked me out. THE ICU??? Her blood levels were very low, and they also put her in there as a precaution because she had never a transfusion before. They wanted to make sure that she wouldn't have any bad reactions and would have one-on-one care with a nurse. So we waited, and waited, and we were finally able to go in there and see her after they had started giving her blood and FINALLY gave her some morphine and she felt so much better. She even started to look better and was in better spirits, though she was pretty out of it. Shes not 100 percent, but I felt better being able to see her looking like that before we left. She looked like she was resting soo much more comfortably, in Room #2. So we went home. And so started my job of notifying ALL friends and family about her health EVERY EVENING when I just wanted to come home and rest. Not to mention the 5 or 6 calls I got from my dad per day asking question after question, often the same question several times.
AND I was okay in the hospital. No fainting or nausea, no worrying about germs, etc. I didn't always wash my hands or cover my mouth or make sure I didn't touch my face with my hands, etc...classic things an emet does. I didn't even think about it honestly; it never crossed my mind to worry about my emet. I was more worried about my mom than anything else. When we went back to see her, she was VERY out of it. We were limted to only 15 mins. of visiting. Then went home. That was the longest and hardest day of my life.
More to come...
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