19:00 - 03.12.06
flow gently sweet afton
In addition to everything else, there is something wonky going on with my Diaryland account dear diary. I've spent the last few days trying to resolve it, among a number of other issues. Essentially I find I can't access any of my previous entries. I was able, somehow, to get into the index briefly. It appeared that some of the entries I had made during my sister's sister-in-law's visit plus entries from during the last election had been removed from the regular queue with a second queue being created at the end of the first. It seemed as though some entries were being targeted as removes for some reason. I emailed the tech support, but haven't received a response yet. For the past two weeks or so, if I click on "Older Entries" I find myself taken to the Diaryland homepage; I don't know what someone trying to access your posts - dear diary - would experience.
So back to Wednesday evening/Thursday morning's adventure. After enjoying the pizza my youngest had provided and hearing his lecture on why I should go to the hospital, I went back to bed thinking if only I could lie still for a couple of hours the bleeding would stop. It did slow while I was horizontal, but restarted in intensity whenever I stood up. Finally, just after midnight, I decided to call the provincial health line - 24 hour service staffed by Registered Nurses - to see if I could get some additional tips on how to reduce the flow until my doctor's office opened in the morning. The response, after describing what had been going on since 1 pm to, now, 1 am was that I needed to be receiving care within four hours because of the blood loss. Maximum four hours emphsized the nurse, Linda. My oldest son had just arrived home from his second job so I asked him to call a cab for me while I got dressed. It arrived within 10 minutes. My son insisted he was going with me even though I wanted him to stay home and get some sleep. "I'm a big girl and I've dealt with a lot worse than this on my own." Couldn't talk him out of it though.
Arrived at the hospital emergency department not long after - the cabbie wishing me well as we exited with blood still pouring from my nose. I was amazed to see only half a dozen people in the waiting room. That is really rare. I approached the intake window after the one woman in front of me was finished her tale of woe. I was preparing to do the same, but after I gave my name a nurse approached and asked my son to continue with the balance of the history, hauling me over to the vitals measuring cubbyhole. She was a trifle upset with my blood pressure. I explained that I get white coat high blood pressure. That was added in to the fact that I had now been losing blood, despite my best attempts to stop it, for nearly 14 hours. Yes my stress level was a bit elevated. She told my son that I was going to be started on IV fluids and that he could join me in about 20 minutes. Fair enough.
Not only did the IV go in the at the elbow, but I was also handed an oxygen mask and an EKG was hooked up while I wasn't looking. The technician on that instrument was very efficient. Respiration was measured and blood was drawn, as I was protesting that all I wanted was someone to cauterize the broken blood vessel so I could get some sleep. Apparently the nurse had decided that the problem had nothing to do with the blood vessel in question, even though now the blood was also seeping out of my right eye as well. Whatever. She kept insisting that I had to be feeling pain. No honey I'm not - except for my sinuses with all that blood pooled in there. She also brought over a mesh garbage can and a kidney dish telling me I should also be vomiting vigourously, because of the amount of blood that was sitting in my stomach. Actually most of the blood was draining out of my eye and nose, thank you very much. The odd thing was there was a taste of cod liver oil mixed in with the blood, so I knew that my daily dose of fish oils was being distributed around the vascular system. Maybe the concentration of oil was inhibitng the clots - they were huge - from sticking to the walls of my sinuses. I wasn't about to debate that moot point right then though. The blood loss was making me very weak and the nurse had popped a drip of demerol into the IV as well - to ease the pain I wasn't feeling. Oh well. The last time I recall having demerol was the last time I haemmorhaged. I like demerol and see how it could be very addicting. Once it started to move through my veins I reached that nice - "I don't care" state. I just wanted to sleep at that point. I had also taken one of my minimum dose blood pressure pills and that dropped my count significantly. Then one of the other nurses added a second dose just for good measure.
The doctor came by at that point and explained that he was going to try to just pack the sinuses for now - after my vitals stabilized; something they did quite rapidly once my fluid/electrolyte balance and oxygen deficit were addressed. We chatted about health care issues and the barriers health care providers faced because of all the political grandstanding by the provincial government. There are now 200 less hospital beds available in this city than there were 10 years ago. In that time, our population has grown by almost 30%. Even 10 years ago this city didn't have sufficient capacity to take all patients requiring care. If my mom, for example, had been seen immediately after her bout of congestive heart failure instead of being told that she would have to wait a month, it might even be that she would still be alive today. Oops - I can feel my blood pressure rising again. The two hospitals renovated with millions of taxpayer dollars then sold off to good friends of the elected boobs in our provincial capital weren't available for her care - not even that state of the art cardiac care unit that had just been installed in the one, now private for-profit hospital.
There seemed to be some friction between my primary care nurse and the doctor while they discussed what to do with me. She seemed to want to challenge him on his choice, but I think that was because she was convinced that I was having a "blood pressure crisis". That usually happens when someone who has the problem hasn't been diagnosed and isn't on meds for it. I pointed out that I had been on mine for about four years and that it only flared up when my stress levels were really bad - like last November. I repeated that this was a broken blood vessel in an inconvenient location - one where I couldn't find a way to apply direct pressure. I speculated that it was the result of running for trains and busses in - 40 C weather for a few days. Anyway the doctor did his thing with the packing. Inserted what looked like an oversize needle - thank goodness for that demerol - with the spongy packing covered with a styptic gel, I think, attached at the business end of the device. Now that did hurt, but only for about 10 seconds. The doctor obviously knew his stuff(ing). He said that he wanted to keep me in for just a bit longer to ensure there were no missed problems and then I could go home. I started to get unhooked from all the other paraphenalia with the nurses help, but still came home with a couple of missed electrode thingy's from that machine tucked under my breasts where I hadn't thought to check. Souvenirs. My son called for a second cab and set the time for 20 minutes hence. It arrived on the dot and we were back home by about 4:30 in the am. Not bad given the normal wait time in emergency rooms these days is 7 hours. My son fell asleep after having some pizza, still chortling as he watched the Marx Brothers movie "Room Service". He had declared he wasn't going to sleep because he felt punch drunk when he only had a few hours rest. I think his body and his stress from the midnight adventure overruled that decision.
I knew I wasn't going to be able to look after my granddaughter at least for the one day so I stayed awake getting things set for my two guys for their next work day. Called number two son to let him know I couldn't get to his home explaining the hospital visit. He said he was fine with staying home for a day with his daughter. I woke my oldest at his leaving time and saw him off. He reported later that he had so much trouble with the transit system that even though he left about 8:15 he didn't arrive at work until 10 am - nearly 2 hours instead of 45 minutes. One of the busses he takes had burst into flames right over the back wheel well - the one by the exit door. That meant that all those passengers had to be evacuated and another bus brought in to transport them, of course. My son hadn't yet boarded and no explanation for the delay was given. Of course that meant that he missed an alternate connector bus. And so on. He fell asleep on the second alternate bus when it finally arrived quite a bit later. Meant he had to get off and catch the return bus on that route to get where he was going. He had called his bosses and they were quite sympathetic about him being late. He made up the time by staying late at the end of the day, so I guess that was all they wanted. Hope so anyway. I slept for the balance of the day. The doctor had told me to make an appointment to see my family doctor on Friday to have the packing removed, but by the end of Thursday it was working itself out of my nose, much to my satisfaction. It hurt since it seemed to press right up against my brain and some fairly sensitive nerves. I also didn't much like having about an inch of sponge protruding from the one nostril. Nose rings are in, sponge apparently isn't. I'll continue with my tale - it hasn't ended yet - later dear diary. Right now I need a nap. Love Scherezade.
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