Previously on the McMedical Mini-Series…
McDaddy had just “pulled the plug” on the stent and removed it from my ureter, (Man, there are just some things you never thought you’d say on the blog) and I was feeling like a new woman! I was so excited. It was the first time in weeks I didn’t feel one bit of pressure “down there” or have an overwhelming urge to pee, and I was so thankful. No more drippy-drop for me!
When we woke up Monday morning, the boys and I went down to the hotel lobby for breakfast, and then we swam in the hotel pool. I was in the water for about thirty minutes when I started feeling sick to my stomach. It was hotter than the hubs of you-know-where in that hotel pool, so I chalked it up to being too hot. Have I mentioned I don’t like to be any kind of uncomfortable? Mostly because I sweat like a mo-jo, but also because I don’t like being too hot or too cold because that turns me into a whiny nag. I watched the boys swim as long as I could handle the heat and then I summoned them out of the pool. Once we returned to our room, I took a shower, crawled into bed and tried every way in the world I could to get warm.
That was Monday afternoon around noon.
And I stayed in that same spot – in room 308 at the Hampton Inn in Schnectedy, New York (with the exception of trips to bathroom to pee or puke or bathe) – until Thursday morning at 5:30 AM when McDaddy and I finally decided I should go to the Emergency Room. My temperature had been up and down for days. McDaddy made multiple trips to the CVS across the street for Gatorade (which I threw up), a new thermometer (because the one we brought was showing my temp as 104 – even though my forehead didn’t feel that hot) and medicine. Still, I was not one bit better. Not to mention, I was having crazy, vivid dreams that at times were more like nightmares. And I’d wake up either shaking uncontrollably freezing to death or absolutely soaked in sweat burning up.
I wasn’t necessarily in pain, only achy. I wasn’t having any trouble peeing (I realize I should be saying urinating, but who really says that in normal conversation?) and had absolutely no pain in my kidney or abdomen.
And before you think to yourself, “I wonder why McDaddy didn’t call the Urologist to inquire about a possible infection.” Let me just set your mind at ease this very minute. He did call the Urologist. And the nurse on the other end of the phone suggested we go to the hospital if my temperature climbed above 102, and then she asked if I was still taking the antibiotic they prescribed after surgery. And I had been taking it faithfully until I started throwing up, and then I decided to quit taking it because why take it when it would just resurface in seven minutes flat?The nurse suggested I take the antibiotic anyway, and so I did. And less than four minutes later, I saw it again.
When I woke up Thursday morning STILL PUKING, McDaddy asked if I wanted to go to the ER in NY or drive four hours to NH (our next destination) and then go to the ER. Given McDaddy’s opinion of eating in the vehicle, MUCH LESS PUKING IN IT, I thought that seemed like a dumb question.
I did not think to apply deodorant. My hair – and this is no lie – looked like one of those pink hair troll doll things we used to put on our pencil erasers back in Elementary School. And then, we’d roll the pencil back and forth in our hands, making the pink hair stand on end. And you know what? I didn’t give a diddly darn that I looked like a troll doll. All I cared about was getting this mess diagnosed.
Ellis hospital was nearby and by some stroke of luck there wasn’t one single soul waiting in the waiting room. I got signed in, went to Triage, answered the same questions at the registration desk and sat for a brief time before being ushered back to a room. I got comfortable on the skinny little bed (why can’t they make those things just a wee bit wider?) and they administered an IV. I was given a little specimen cup and off I went to the bathroom.
SIDE NOTE: I am a college educated. Why is it that I cannot pee in a cup without peeing all over my hand? I’ll never understand it.
Anyway, I could tell by looking at the urine that it was filled with all manner of nonsense. Urine is supposed to be clear like water. My urine was the color of beer. And not the pretty gold kind of beer. I’m talking about the ugly, dark, heavy, brown kind. Plus, it had floaters in it. It was obvious that Houston, we have a problem.
After I got settled into that room, McDaddy took the boys to get something to eat, and pack up our hotel room. He returned a short time later and was upset to find out we were no closer to finding anything out than we were before he left. He made his way to the nurse’s station and was informed that I had a Urinary Tract Infection. The nurse that was caring for me seemed all too happy to add another bag-o-medicine to my IV every few minutes and I was all, bring it on because with every bag of medicine that she added, I felt just a teensy-tiny bit better. Both she and the Emergency Room Doctor seemed surprised that I travelled so soon after kidney removal surgery. Had I known that was the case you can bet I would have Googled “Travelling after kidney removal surgery” and convinced McDaddy of the possible impending medical trouble that might ensue if we didn’t HOLD UP NELLIE! and wait a few days. Especially seeing as how the tape that was attached to the stent was also taped to my leg just waiting for him to pull the plug on it.
But alas, we were never advised of that.
So, there we were in Room #16 in the Emergency Room at Ellis Hospital, diagnosed with a Urinary Tract Infection. Which is crazy because I wasn’t having any kidney pain, urinary spasms, or urinary pressure. I was only having virus-y like symptoms that made me think my time had come.
Today, a full ten-days after the initial symptoms, I am much better, but not great. I have a huge patch of fever blisters on the corner of my lip and I wouldn’t get near it with a ten-foot pole if it wasn’t on my face. I’m pretty sure the Keflex I’m on is making me dizzy, and I still can’t walk too far without getting tired.
The moral of this story is a Urinary Tract Infection means serious business.
Thankfully, I am MUCH better.
And this latest chapter in my medical saga is over.
If you’ve hung in there for all 2,693 words, God bless you.
Thanks to this latest medical drama, 1) I am downing eight ounces of cranberry juice daily, 2) I added a Urologist to my “Contacts” and, 3) The BIG FOUR ZERO is just around the corner smirking at me with a bottle of Metamucil.
And I’m thinking I should take this opportunity to remind McDaddy about my wishes for a mahogany casket.