Hawaii or Bust

Last Friday night it was a full moon. So naturally, I was in the ER.

Lots of people end up in the ER for great reasons – gun shot wounds, heart attacks, broken bones. I was there because I didn’t plan the timing of my urgent care visit and went in after regular business hours. I should have known I’d end up in the ER since my stomach pain would obviously require imaging of some sort.

So there I was in the ER by myself surrounded by a lot of very strange people: the man who wanted insulin because Walgreens hates him; the man who yelled at every staff member because the wait was over an hour; the nurse who burned her hand a little but wanted it checked anyway; the meth addict, etc. Oh, and the two high school athletes with dislocated and sprained shoulders and wrists.

I felt very silly wasting everyone’s time in the ER. But I was in so much pain.

Besides the pain, the only two things I could think about were 1) family pictures scheduled for Sunday and 2) the Hawaii trip we’ve been planning for over two years that begins a week from the hospital visit.

At the end of it all, I did not have appendicitis. I left with a souvenir water bottle, two bruised arms from blood draws, and an expensive non-diagnosis after a CT scan. I really hate the “we don’t know what’s wrong with you, you’re not dying, go home and follow up with your regular doctors” discharge.

I did not leave with a prescription for pain medicine because frankly it makes me feel like a criminal taking a script for pain meds from an ER doctor.

I still don’t have a definite diagnosis. I am still in pain. Horrible pain, comparable to labor. I faked my way through family pictures on Sunday.

And I am going to Hawaii. I plan on having as much fun as possible despite the pain and figure it out when I get back. Can I just get a morphine drip? That should do the trick.


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