a tale of timely asscystance

Long time no posty! This past week I've been working hard at my temp job at the accounting company, which really is the only interesting activity I've had since leaving the stupid restaurant. (Those temperamental chefs and their excellent food and lack of appreciation of my awesomeness. Hmph.) But I had a scary time yesterday that I want to share with y'all. Don't worry, the ending is a fairly happy one.

For the past week or so, maybe couple of weeks, I'd been having occasional sharp pains on the lower left side of my abdomen. At first I thought it was the return of Mr. T (the name I gave my ulcer & h. pylori infection back in the day), but it was in the wrong spot. I got progressively more hypochondriac about it. Every time I got stabby or twingey feelings I would start to imagine all the horrible things that might be going on in there. I would go to WebMD and check various ones of my symptoms, which would set me to more nailbiting.

Yesterday it was worse than it had been before. I was getting panicky, and in the middle of the day ended up going to my team's manager and saying I needed to leave and go get myself seen by a doctor. (Later in the day I would say to Dave, "Dangit, I was hoping I'd get through at least one job without crying in front of my immediate superior!" To which he said, "Yeah, but this time you had a really good reason. Crying because you're in pain and need to go to the doctor is something anybody would understand and no one would think less of you for.") So I did. I went home, collected Dave, and headed off to the emergency room of the local hospital, which is only a few blocks from our apartment.

I've gotta say, despite all the problems with the money side of this country's healthcare system, the people who do the actual healthcaring are awesome. The nurse who took my blood sample found a hand vein on the first try, which almost never happens since my veins are sneaky. Every couple of hours while I was waiting to get taken to a test or hear a result either a nurse or one of the medical interns would stop by to say, "unfortunately, no results are back yet" or "you were shceduled for this test half an hour ago, and the other one an hour from now, but we're pretty backed up so I'm not sure when exactly it'll be." But even though they usually didn't have anything concrete to tell me, they let me know I hadn't been forgotten.

Which makes all the difference when you're sitting in a room in Pediatrics (the regular ER rooms were full) listening to the kid in the next room. For a long time he fought playfully and loudly with his little brother, then made an unholy hue and cry over an undoubtedly scary but necessary procedure of some kind. So they ran the whole gamut from saying "RRAWR! I'm fighting you with my razor claws!" to yelling, "Hey, manager! Can I get some more orange juice?!" to screaming, "Mamacita, m'ayuda! No more, no more, no more!" Which last part probably didn't last as long as it felt like. But afterwards the nurse and the kid's mom both comforted him and told him he was a very good boy and it was done, there was no more now. His cough had sounded terrible, so I hope whatever it was worked.

The funniest thing that happened was that each time I came back from having a test done, about fifteen to thirty minutes later a nurse would show up and say, "I'm here to take you up for an ultrasound." "But I just came from there! In fact, you helped the lady who was transporting me push me up a ramp," I said. "Oh," she replied, rolled her eyes and exchanged a bemused look with me. "I thought you looked familiar."

When I wasn't listening to the neighbors or the walkie-talkies of techs and docs passing in the halls, I read the book I'd brought along. It's one Pearl lent me called War Before Civilization. Really excellent book--easy to read, unlike a lot of anthropology, and frank about what the historical and archaeological record shows human conflicts to have been like through the ages. Apparently, people of all eras like peace better but make war when they are attacked, feel they don't have a choice, really really need food, want to avenge murders or retaliate from thefts--pretty much the same reasons individuals fight. And in no era of human history were people ever kidding about war. Even when "battles" were ritualized and less deadly, the real killing had just been moved to secret midnight raids and surprise attacks. And there's just something about reading about prehistoric times that makes me really, really grateful for twentieth-century medicine and the fact that I can have access to it. I mentioned this to Dave, who chuckled and said, "Twenty-first century medicine, even." Which made me giggle, and pretend I was examining myself: "All right, ma'am. Can you touch your nose? Good. Can you walk in a straight line? Excellent. Now, what century is it?"

I got a pelvic exam, an ultrasound and a CT scan. Good news, my digestive tract is fine and most of my lady-junk appears to be in working order. All that's wrong with me is a small cyst on my left ovary, about 1.2cm. The doc said even if it bursts, which such cysts are known to do, it won't actually harm me, just give me horrible searing pain for a couple of days. There's always the chance of a cyst twisting around and pinching off the blood flow to the ovary, but he said it's much less likely to happen with one this small. Just in case though--since I wouldn't be able to tell one horrible pain from another--I should head back to the nearest ER if I experience any. Seems sensible! Also, I apparently have a freakishly large appendix. It isn't inflamed or hurty or anything--several different docs, nurses and techs over the course of the evening had poked or scanned or stethoscoped right on top of it with nary a twinge. It's just twice as "thick" as an appendix is supposed to be. Who knows, maybe I was born with it. But if I get horrible, searing pain on the right side, just as on the left, I should also head back to the ER.

Thus ends my tale of silly medical paranoia and surprisingly excellent medical treatment despite my lack of health insurance. Now the only medical thing I need to fear is the bill which will be arriving in the mail pretty soon. But I hear hsopitals have very reasonable payment plans these days. It'll probably end up costing less than a used car!