|
About This Author
I am a 40 year old married mother of two teenage boys. I live for writing, especially romance. Love the happily ever after scenerio. The best thing about writing for me is the ability to lose yourself in your work, and feel as if you've accomplished something great. At the end of the day, that's all that really matters.
|
The Waiting Game #602033 added August 15, 2008 at 2:36am
Restrictions: None
Biopsy Day
I hardly slept at all last night. You know that lovely time when the body is desperate to rest, but your mind refuses to cooperate and just runs all night long. Now this doesn't bother me so much when it's story related, but when it's stupidness running rampant, I tend to be cranking in the a.m.
So I finally dragged my butt out of bed around 7:45, got so tired of just lying there waiting for 8:15 to roll around so I could head off to the hospital. At 7:50, Hela, my SIL calls and says the hospital called to make sure we'd be on time. Hamaytay calls within a few of that call, and heads on over. Hubby, MIL and I head off to the hospital. We get to the second floor, and there's my doc, sitting in a chair waiting for me. They waste no time getting paperwork filled out and handed off to hubby so he can go and pay.......get this............$300. How amazing is that? Even with our shitty insurance I'd be paying a hell of a lot more back home.
The nurse doesn't speak English, the doctor does. The doc bows and waves me into the next room where the bed and lovely gown await me. There are two beds and a desk in there. I assume I'm stripping down--but no. He hold the gown for me to put on over my clothes. We are not going in thru the out door, but down the throat. I am both happy and relieved. I did find it strange that I didn't have to drink all that nasty stuff, and if I thought going in this way was going to be 100x's better, I was wrong.
So I put on the gown, get into the bed, and the nurse comes in, a little skittish because of the language barrier, and hubby and the MIL haven't come back yet. So she asks me easy questions in Arabic.....how old am I, what's my issue, tells me to sign the consent form. Easy enough. The doc throws the sheet over me, she has me make a fist, pops the IV into my hand, and they start wheeling me away. HOLY SHIT! I swear I thought it was going to take a bit more time than 5 whole minutes.
I think I'm going down the hall, to another floor, but nope, wrong again. You know sometimes it's better just not to think at all. I am wheeled thru the room I just came from and into door on the opposite side. Same office. Woots for Makasid Hospital. The nurse tells me of her children and sister living in America, and guess where.........you got it, my home town, aka, Little Lebanon. I'm not shocked, I mean I live there and know that the majority of citizens are from the Middle East. She tells me the doctor's brothers all live in the States. How many I ask, 7.......and my response, you're poor mother. Lebanese boys are all work......Mom get me, hand me, help me........girls are, do this, do that. So they start laughing, cause I am just delightful in my frightened state, lack of sleep mind. And the nurse says she likes me, and calls me Maldoom  I like that, it means that I'm cute/funny, and I am both. 
So now the fun begins, the doc injects my sleepy drugs into the IV, then has me open my mouth and sprays some nasty tasting numbing shit all over the place. Tells me to swallow.............YUCK. And then we get to do it again. And on the second swallow, I begin gagging, dry heaving.......so not pretty. And I keep thinking how the hell can I go for round three when I can't make it thru round two. So he has me lay on my side, and it all seems to go away. YES. And the next thing I remember, I'm waking up with hubby at my side and a guy and his sister waiting to go in for a procedure in the next bed.
I vaguely remember wanting to put my hair up because I was hot, and the woman that I've seen before comes to my bed and does my hair for me. How awesome is that? Where do kind strangers come from anyway????
A second nurse comes in and says I need to sit up, and then she pushes me to actually get up. Once I'm up, we can leave. I am so groggy, and a bit dizzy, but others are waiting for my bed. We head out of the room, and Joumana, Hela, Mehedine and Alea are all waiting for me. We leave the hospital and start the 12 block walk to Hamaytay's house. I barely remember that. I will say that if it had not been for Mehedine on one arm, and hubby on the other, there's no way in hell I would've made that walk, in the friggin 95 degree heat of Beirut.
I was so tired, in and out of sleep on the couch, and then the cramping began. I was able to eat a little bit, which seemed to wake me up, and then I got to view the pic of my trouble spots. It seems that I have some sort of hernia in my esophagus, multiple small ulcers--not that I can make out where those are--and the biopsy results come in Friday. I am thisclose to having answers I should have had years ago. And I keep having these stupid crying spells.
I get that I'm frustrated with my health, that I'm just plain tired of the painful mouth ulcers that never really seem to leave and give me a moment's rest, but I hate crying for no apparent reason. Give me a good movie, book or commerical, I'll ball like a baby, that I get, but not this.
Maybe it's partly due to the fact that I want my Mom. I know, I'm a grown woman, but there are still times when she is the one that I want by my side, reassuring me, and just giving me the boost I need to continue on. And when I'm far away, and the best is an email or a phone call, I feel that I need her even more. What can I say?
So now I wait for tomorrow and some answers. With any luck, I will get what I'm looking for, and begin to heal after all this time. I need it, want it, and am looking forward to being healthy again.
My hubby's family have been wonderful to me throughout all of this, and I'm so glad to be apart of their family. I thank all of you for making this easier for me, for going out of your way to make dinner something I enjoy again, and for putting up with my crabbiness. I know I can be a royal pain in the ass. I mean hell, I did give myself the name PurplePrincess. Need I say more?
Peace Out
|
© Copyright 2008 Purple Holiday Givings (UN: purpleprincess at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Purple Holiday Givings has granted InkSpot.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |
