Of course, I was to speak the next day and I wanted to find out just how long the stomach bug would last so I hunted down a doctor who would take me (top result in a Google search). I found one near central park and made my way there immediately during one painful and bumpy cab ride. After a 5-minute $200 exam he sent me directly to his surgeon, postulating I might have appendicitis. The vomiting started in the Rich Boy's nice apartment-sized upper east-side Manhattan office in the small private bathroom reserved for his "soon to be fired for sneaking me in" secretary. She asked politely if I could raise the toilet seat to vomit. They had nice Molton Brown toiletries and it was to be the nicest bathroom I'd see for the next 3 days; I enjoyed it the best I could while praying to the porcelain god (Kohler of course).
A cab ride later I was at the surgeon's (Dr. H) office vomiting in his nice apartment-sized office - he had just moved in the day before and the biggest drama there was a lack of phone service. An exam later I was walking myself around the corner to one of the phlebotomy labs at Mt Sinai hospital. On the way I made a quick call to make sure someone knew it was unlikely I'd be able to speak the next day.
At this point I was rather amused. I was still under the impression I just had a stomach bug and at the worst a little case of bowel trouble I'm prone to. I wandered in a haze of pain until I found the nice gentleman who hardly spoke English was to take my blood "Stat" (I cut in front of about 30 people). I sat in his chair and I nearly passed out. This place was a nightmare: dirty, hacked together, torn curtains,etc. It was exactly the sort of place you'd expect to see in a third-world country. They didn't even have tissue to help me wipe up vomit off my face. I was handed 3 opened sterile gauze packages. He decided he couldn't take blood and called for the surgeon to come and get me. Dr. H fetched me (while on the cell phone to the phone company) and wheeled me in a chair over to the ER at Mt Sinai using the cold basement tunnels.
It was approximately 1pm and the ER at Mt Sinai is not where I'd choose to go on any day, even one where I was writhing in pain, vomiting bile and generally wanting my mommy. It was terribly cold - my chair was parked in front of a door where I was asked 20 questions that I couldn't answer - thank god for Dr H. Nurses got me dressed into a cold gown and put me on a gurney and rolled me onto the floor in between a bunch of other gurneys. I felt pretty left out as the more nurses ran around attending to other poor souls. I was the only white girl. One nurse intending upon taking my blood and hooking up my IV took one look at my veins and declared it a lost cause. She handed it off to someone else more experienced that would then take 4 hours to "get around to me". Five hours later, after 3 requests, I finally got some morphine.
The division of labor in ERs is very interesting. There are administrative types (who type things into computers and delivered me the VOIP wireless phone when the dozens of people called - he was amazed I was "getting calls from Google"), patient assistant types (they'll get you blankets and relay information), nurses (who will put in orders for drugs and deliver them), super nurses (who are qualified to do things like put in IVs) and a few layers of doctors. I encountered two types of doctors: the ones that are still afraid of patients and the veterans - all of them are < 25.
One doctor - a young Indian fellow - took one look at my bile-infused puke-pan and got very afraid. That's definitely the confidence I want to see! He clearly didn't like Sick People and got into the whole medicine thing because it's prestigious. He came over to ask for the 50th time what my symptoms were (isn't this on a chart somewhere?) and when I asked for a clean yellow puke-vessel instead he looked confused, picked up my used one and set it on the floor behind my gurney, apparently out of the way; this pissed off the super nurse who declared to me: don't let them do that! Really, lady, you expect me to instruct the ER doctor what to do with regards to hygiene in the ER when I'm writing here in pain? Give me the F'ing morphine already! This particular ER doctor was pretty useless and I learned fast he was only going to be useful to fetch the ER surgeon.
The ER surgeon was a different story. She was compassionate and clearly a 'veteran' (at age 25). Being the one that cuts people open she probably sees a lot of trauma - I was clearly having a spate of trauma. She felt my belly, expressed some concern and had the decency to close the curtain I was declared "lucky to have" during our exam.
I somehow managed to stay standing during an X-ray that showed I didn't have a bowel obstruction. Bonus. I puked in the X-ray room. Downside.
The scared young Indian doctor then delivered my fake berry-flavored Barium Sulfate without telling me what it was for, but I already knew. They were going to do a CT scan. I'd never had one of these before. There are three ways to deliver Barium Sulfate: rectal, IV, oral. Now, I have to say that the prospect of drinking half a liter of milky fake berry-flavored goo didn't seem so appealing to me at the time. I fell asleep drinking it; love you morphine. However I was in for a fun surprise. Shooting Barium Sulfate into an IV makes your extremities very warm. For me this meant my oh-so-cold-feet-still-in-my-shoes and my girly parts "down there". It was the most pleasant experience I'd had so far despite the fact that I was asked to hold both my arms over my head and one was attached to a needle. However, it turns out that when your bowels are blocked up oral Barium Sulfate doesn't really "progress" and so an enema was necessary. [Aren't you glad you're reading this?]. Worst experience in the event, I assure you.
Doing such a scan showed that I have a very shy and "long and floppy" appendix... with a stone. I had no idea you could have stones in your appendix. These fecaliths are pretty annoying and can block things up - being one cause of appendicitis, probably mine.
Once they learn you actually have appendicitis things move pretty quick. I was out of the ER into a real hospital room in about an hour (at approximately 3am **), just barely enough time to wake everyone I knew with illicit SMS messages. I wanted my mommy but there was a raging Noreaster over NYC and there was no way in hell she could come. I was all alone for this little adventure.
The hospital bed was like living at the Ritz. I had a TV (complete with the History channel!), one roomate who was knocked out on drugs, a nearby bathroom and SOCKS. They gave me slip resistant socks - my feet were soooo happy - and a bed that adjusted at my whim. And more importantly the nurse would come with a push of a little red button and give me drugs. Did she ever! I rested and at 5pm a nurse walked in. She wanted blood.
I've never really liked giving blood. I hate needles. My blood doesn't make me nauseous or nervous. In general the little red fluid doesn't bother me at all. But the inexperienced nurse couldn't coax my free arm veins into submission. Apparently, as with my previous IV experience, the one on my hand looked tasty and accessible! I cried. That is the only time I cried through this entire thing, but by god it hurt so F'ing much. :(
I was awake enough to remember walking to the ER gurney, climbing on, laying down and watching the scenery as we went by. It was like one of those movies where the ceiling tiles whiz by. My anesthesiologist met us outside the elevator. He was nice and took over wheeling me into the OR holding area. The lights were off - spooky - this is a busy hospital! We were the only ones there!! YES! It turns out at 5am there are no other surgeries unless there are emergencies (like mine). Dr. H hadn't arrived yet so we all shot the shit. They brought up my CT scan on the OR computer to admire my stone, put a snazzy blue hat on me, fixed my "not ideal IV", gave me the "good drugs" IV machine, and we chatted about what/why/where/wtf? It was the anesthesiologist that pointed out this was a curious way of getting out of a talk.
I remember sedation goo being shot into the IV. I remember a squishy oxygen mask. Then I remember sitting upright quickly and having the intibation tube ripped out of my throat. Ugh. Thankfully I was blessed with a laparoscopic procedure; thus only 3 tiny holes, the biggest being in my belly button.
The next few days are a blur of percocet and attempting to walk 2 hours after the cutting. My mom arrived in the middle of a percocet high and I was a mess.
I can't fly for a while so we're stuck in NYC and then going to Maryland. Everything is working normal and now my only complain is the annoying stitching in my bellybutton.
** For those who were paying attention I entered the ER at 1pm on Tuesday and departed at 3am on Wednesday. That's a lovely 14 hour stay.
