August 2007
Following my colonoscopy I was trying to come out of the haze of anesthesia they had put me under, and process what my doctor was telling me.
“As I suspected, you have Crohn’s Disease.” She touched my arm in a sympathetic manner, and I could feel my mother sitting to my left, inhale deeply as she heard the news. I nodded as she explained the pills she would send me home with. Ten pills a day, wonderful.
On a scale of 1-10, with 10 being the worst my doc had seen, I was a 7, fantastic. I then asked for saltine crackers as I hadn’t eaten in almost 30 hours. I inhaled the crackers and watched as my mother asked the questions. Thank god she was there to bear witness because I had checked out at that point. I was anemic, with internal bleeding in my ileum, tired, weak, drugged and hungry.
At the moment I got the news all I could feel was a huge sense of relief that at least I finally had a term for what I had been going through. I wasn’t imagining it all, it wasn’t all in my head that I could barely make it through an 8 hour day at work without collapsing from exhaustion. Six doctors and one year later I finally had a term, which meant people would now believe me, and take me seriously. Finally there was an explanation, which meant there had to be hope.
It wasn’t until an hour later, while sitting and waiting for a sandwich that the gravity of my situation hit me like a ton of bricks. I assume this is when the meds wore off. My mother was standing at the counter waiting for our food, and I was seated in the middle of the deli. Suddenly I was sobbing uncontrollably; I had no concern for any of the other customers who were there. I was having some sort of tunnel vision, it seemed like an out of body experience. I couldn’t believe what was happening to me, what I would have to endure. It seemed I was outside of my body watching myself when I took my mother’s advice, pushed past the onlookers and walked towards the car.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
I'm Taking Steps in White Plains for the CCFA. Visit my page!
http://online.ccfa.org/goto/JenSantiago
A very worthwhile cause! Soliciting for donations on my blog, yes I am shameless.
A very worthwhile cause! Soliciting for donations on my blog, yes I am shameless.
The Morbid Admitting Department Followed by More Morbidness
April 2009
After 10 minutes of catching up on my smut reading in the Admitting holding area at Greenwich Hospital I’m called into one of the offices to begin the admittance process. Basically I sign my life away and make sure they know who to call if I die.
Upon entering the room and sitting down I glance around to take in my surroundings. What is the first thing I notice? A list titled “Funeral Homes” in boldface with contact numbers tacked up next to the telephone, nice. I’m not sure about anyone else, but this is the last thing I want to see as I’m having a wristband with my name and own personal barcode slapped on. Not to mention the question “Are you sure your mother is the only one you want to list as your next of kin?” Thanks lady, why not wheel me into the morgue right now?!
Just as I started to settle into my hospital bed and was concentrating on putting all of the morbid thoughts behind me, I observe a stream of very distraught people moving in and out of the room across the hallway. Normally I wouldn’t take notice of such things, however on this particular visit, I had been placed in the Medical Oncology department, AKA cancer ward. I usually don’t bother the nurse with keeping my door closed as they have to monitor my vitals every 15 minutes, and tend to forget about me which leads to the damn machine beeping uncontrollably until they come back. In an effort to stay on their radar I keep the door open. After this particular visit I will have no problem asking them to close my door in the future.
I’m no longer focused on my reading and I’ve turned off the TV, my attention is now focused on the show that is taking place directly across the hall from my room. After watching 10 or more people move in and out of the room looking visibly shaken, the priest shows up. He appears to float across the hallway and into the room with his floor length black cloak and white collar. I’ve done this hospital thing long enough to know what he was there for. He was there to administer “Last Rites” to the patient, the sacrament of the dying, or as Wikipedia would call it “Anointing of the Sick”. This is when I pressed the nurse button and kindly asked them to close my door. Jesus Mary and Joseph get me the hell out of here!
After 10 minutes of catching up on my smut reading in the Admitting holding area at Greenwich Hospital I’m called into one of the offices to begin the admittance process. Basically I sign my life away and make sure they know who to call if I die.
Upon entering the room and sitting down I glance around to take in my surroundings. What is the first thing I notice? A list titled “Funeral Homes” in boldface with contact numbers tacked up next to the telephone, nice. I’m not sure about anyone else, but this is the last thing I want to see as I’m having a wristband with my name and own personal barcode slapped on. Not to mention the question “Are you sure your mother is the only one you want to list as your next of kin?” Thanks lady, why not wheel me into the morgue right now?!
Just as I started to settle into my hospital bed and was concentrating on putting all of the morbid thoughts behind me, I observe a stream of very distraught people moving in and out of the room across the hallway. Normally I wouldn’t take notice of such things, however on this particular visit, I had been placed in the Medical Oncology department, AKA cancer ward. I usually don’t bother the nurse with keeping my door closed as they have to monitor my vitals every 15 minutes, and tend to forget about me which leads to the damn machine beeping uncontrollably until they come back. In an effort to stay on their radar I keep the door open. After this particular visit I will have no problem asking them to close my door in the future.
I’m no longer focused on my reading and I’ve turned off the TV, my attention is now focused on the show that is taking place directly across the hall from my room. After watching 10 or more people move in and out of the room looking visibly shaken, the priest shows up. He appears to float across the hallway and into the room with his floor length black cloak and white collar. I’ve done this hospital thing long enough to know what he was there for. He was there to administer “Last Rites” to the patient, the sacrament of the dying, or as Wikipedia would call it “Anointing of the Sick”. This is when I pressed the nurse button and kindly asked them to close my door. Jesus Mary and Joseph get me the hell out of here!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)