The days are getting shorter.
The sun, that brilliant star that lights our lives, is setting earlier. Bit by bit, every evening.
This time of year is
always a bit sad for me. It is a form of
closure. Saying “goodbye” to another
summer.
Somehow, it is hard for me to couch it as saying “hello” to another winter. In my mind I know that is logical, but in my heart, another summer has passed to mourn.
I haven’t felt my best the last couple of days. I put it down to stress – the big annual fundraiser I host is quickly approaching, and at the same time my job, my main source of income, is being threatened to disappear (health insurance along with it). So yeah, stress could make my body not function properly, right?
Only, as the second day of
feeling “off” wore on, it became harder and harder to ignore that things just
weren’t right.
It came to a head on a 25-minute
car ride. We had met a friend for dinner
and had a lovely time. It was so fun catching
up and chatting. But getting in the car
and buckling the seatbelt around me was a reminder that something was just not
right.
As David drove (me urging
him to please pick up the pace) I Googled my symptoms. Ahhh, a urinary tract infection (UTI), that
had to be it. Not all of my symptoms
matched, but enough that I felt semi-comfortable diagnosing myself (and the UTI
verdict was so much more mundane than the other choices that swirled in my mind
– a tumor, cancer, kidney stone…).
When we got home, I laid
down in a warm bath (at David’s suggestion).
As I soaked, I dialed the number on the back of my insurance card for the
24-hour nurse hotline. A pleasant woman answered
and began the routine. Name. Date of birth. “What would you have done if you hadn’t
called the hotline tonight?” – the question in their script that I find
idiotic. I answered, “Googled my symptoms
I guess, which I have already done”.
I have used the nurse
hotline a few times, so I know how it goes.
After getting all of the details squared away, the RN begins asking a
list of questions (obviously following prompts on a screen). When I called before there were quite a few
questions, only this time we only got to number 5. After I responded, she said, “You need to get
to an Emergency Room within the hour”.
Well now. That seemed a bit blunt, if not extreme. Within the HOUR? I imagined her screen now, with a big, red,
flashing box screaming WARNING WARNING WARNING DO NOT ASK ANY MORE QUESTIONS,
SEND PATIENT TO THE ER STAT.
“Ummm, why so fast? What could be wrong??” I asked aloud the question
that certainly everyone who is read that answer must wonder.
She explained that if my
bladder was too full for too long, it could affect my kidneys.
Well then, let’s pop out
to the ER. I got out of the tub, dried
off, put on mismatched flannel pajamas (where are the matching pants when you
need them?) and got in the car for another uncomfortable ride.
I went through a check-in,
got an IV put in and blood drawn, and gave them what little urine I could produce
for them to run tests on. Then we
waited. It wasn’t too long before they
put me in a bed in an ER bay. By that
time it must’ve been midnight.
I should explain that my
partner and I are not frequent ER visitors.
We are healthy for the most part.
We go to the doctor once a year for a physical, and probably average 2
more doctor visits for the remainder of the year. So, this was an unusual way for us to spend
our Friday night.
An hour passed. Then two.
We played on our phones. I closed
my eyes and rested. And we waited. Two trauma calls went out while we were there
– loudly announced over the PA. Obviously,
someone coming in injured in a car crash or a stabbing takes priority over the
woman in the bed with a very uncomfortable belly.
I checked my email. “Oh look, the blood and urine test results
have hit my patient portal”. After
changing my password (who remembers a password that they have used 3 times in
their lives…), I could see the info. And
to my non-medical eyes, it didn’t look good…
I tried to keep calm, even
though what seemed like a LOT of the numbers showing on my screen were reading
well above “normal”… My mind raced –
maybe it was not something simple after all…
But after another test,
the doctor finally came in to visit. She
declared that the test results all looked fine (gee, that isn’t what those
little charts looked like to ME) and that I didn’t seem to have anything
wrong.
Now to her credit, by the
time she saw me, we had been there about 4.75 hours, and I DID feel much better
than when we arrived. Maybe I just
needed to rest on a plastic covered bed for a bit and stare at a ceiling!
The doctor put me on a
couple of meds for safe measure and said they will do a more comprehensive test
on my urine to see if I should discontinue those pills or not. She should let me know on Monday.
And with that, the nurse
took out the unused IV, I put my slippers back on, and we came home.
It wasn’t until we woke up
this afternoon that I let my real emotions show. David was in the tub, and I sat beside it and
confessed. And sobbed.
I am a realist. I have seen enough illness and death to know
that it comes to us all, and I accept that as fact. No amount of sugar coating that concept makes
it any less final. We. All. Die.
And I know from experience
that a lot of those deaths begin with a visit to the ER. Something doesn’t “feel right”. You go in.
They draw blood. They test it. They draw more. They do an MRI… And then they give you the news.
Sure, there might be
treatment or surgery or medication. But the
death begins with that diagnosis. And we. All. Die.
So, while this trip to the
ER ended with a “thumbs up”, the next one might not. Or the one after that.
My days are getting
shorter. My sun is setting sooner. Winter is coming.
I won’t wallow in that
fact. I can’t – I have friends to laugh
with, fresh strawberries to eat, and a free pantry to stock.
But I won’t ignore it
either.
The seasons change. The earth spins. And my days get shorter.
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