sh*tty things that happen to me

Ulcers, abnormal migraines, and costochondritis! It’s been a rough couple months.

About a month ago, I was all, “AHHH I HAVE THIS HORRIBLE PAIN IN MY STOMACH AREA AND IF YOU TOUCH IT, IT FEELS LIKE I’M GOING TO DIE! AND THERE SEEMS TO BE NO APPARENT CAUSE!.”

So, I drove myself to the emergency room. And the doctor touched my stomach area and it felt like a semi had plowed into my ribs and he ordered a chest X-Ray, and a CT-Scan and some blood work.

And none of those turned back crap. Then they gave me morphine, told me I probably had an ulcer from excessive use of ibuprofen and called in a GI doctor.

And I was all, “So an ulcer would hurt like that?” And I swear to you, the doctor looked at me and in the most stern voice you can think of said, “Yes. An ulcer can kill you.”

And I was like, Dannnng. All right.

And then the GI Doctor was all, “You’re in a lot of pain. I think you have an ulcer too. I’m going to recommend we admit you and then stick a camera down your throat in the morning and see what the dealio is.” Or something like that. Morphine has a way of making your memories foggy.

So I was like, “Cool beans. Whatever yo.”

And then a primary care doctor came in to examine me, and I was all, “No. That doesn’t hurt at all.”  to everything she did because, like I said, they had already given me morphine.

So I spent the night in the hospital. And then the next morning they stuck a camera down my throat and they found an ulcer in my intestines. They even showed a picture of it to my mom and my boyfriend, so I’m pretty sure it was real.

Then, they gave me ulcer medicines, banned me from eating every good food ever for a month and sent me on my merry way.

Fast forward one month.

I actually did feel like I was on the path to recovery. I was taking the ulcer meds and avoiding every good food ever. La di da da. And I thought things were going pretty well when I walked into my follow-up visit with my GI doctor.

Except while I was there, he pushed on part of my stomach and it felt like a semi-truck had hit a train that then rammed into me. And I was like, “Woah dude. That hurt.” And he was like, “Huh.” And then he said, basically, that based on what he saw, I should be pretty much healed by now. And I was like, “Hmm. Well I was feeling pretty good before I got here, so maybe this will all go away when I leave.”

Except of course it didn’t. At all.

And after four days of going, “Hopefully tomorrow I either wake up feeling better or die.” I finally decided to make an appointment with my primary care doctor.

And while I was there she determined that I had a rib injury which she didn’t notice in the ER because when she examined me I was already on morphine. And, now, here’s where it gets confusing, because I didn’t really have anything happen to me to cause a rib injury. My doctor said I have costochondritis, which is only scary when you Google it too much. (I’m pretty sure I probably have cancer).

So now, I’m wearing pain patches and I am not wearing any bras with under wire, because apparently those exasperate the situation. And just a heads up, when I tell you I’m not the right “treatment path” it’s my polite way of saying I’m no longer wearing bras with under wire. Because manners.

In other health-related news, I am also taking a new long-term medication for my headaches, which is what led to the long-term excessive Advil use in the first place. It’s called Topamax.

I also saw a neurologist yesterday for the first time and we had a nice little hour-long chat. In short, there’s an Android app for keeping a headache diary, I have to have an MRI done of my head in case there’s an aneurysm in there trying to kill me and the headaches are probably basically abnormal migraines caused by the fact that the regular migraines I used to get morphed into these headaches.

And I have to say I prefer these headaches because they do not come with any blind spots. I seriously HATED those.

Tune in next time for, “Why medical bills be crazy!”

 

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I got gastritis. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

My doctor told me not to eat chocolate for at least 30 days because the my stomach lining is swollen and I have an ulcer in my intestines and apparently chocolate is bad for those things.

And I was all, “But, umm, I write for a candy magazine. It’s literally my job to eat chocolate.” And she was all, “He He He. You’re so funny. Just eat other candy.” And I was like, “Whoa. This sucks.”

And then I went back to work today after being out sick Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday and wouldn’t you know that I got a sample box of 16 chocolates with a retail price of $48. Those are some seriously amazing chocolates.

Ya, I ate five of them.

And they were all amazing. One had passion fruit in the center and I loved it.

Backing up a few steps, for those who don’t follow me on Facebook, I was in the hospital Monday and Tuesday. Apparently I have gastritis in my stomach and the aforementioned ulcer. It basically feels like someone took a metal bat to my side.

And because gastritis rhymes with bronchitis, I can’t help but quote this amazing women pretty much all day, every day.

You’d be shocked to learn how often I can tell people I wanted a “cold pop!”

Anyway, so ya, Monday morning I woke up, and my side hurt and I thought I was going to die, and so on my way to work I figured I’d just swing by the emergency room — you know, to see how long I had.

They pumped me full of morphine like the second I walked in the door. Then they X-rayed my chest, but nothing showed up. So then they gave me a CT Scan and it turns out that I am one of the few people who vomits after being pumped full of the dye they rush through your system right before they take the pictures. So, ya, that sucked.

And then they were all, “The CT Scan looks pretty good. We think you have an ulcer. We’re going to keep you overnight so we can better manage your pain, and then tomorrow we’re going to stick a camera down your throat and take a look around. Cool? Cool.”

And I was like, “OMG!!!! What if I wake up while you’re sticking a camera down my throat?”

And the dude was like, “Ya, that could happen. But you won’t remember it.”

Which wasn’t exactly the response I was hoping for.

I slept with an IV in my arm and every single time I bent my elbow the alarm on the IV beeped like an insane person worried the sky was falling and then I had to call a nurse and I think the nurse got annoyed that I kept calling, but she wouldn’t tell me how to shut the IV off myself when that happened, so whatever.

My mom and grandma came up and spent the night in the hospital with me because spending the night in the hospital sucks and is scary and people literally wake you up at 4:30 a.m. to draw blood from your arm like it’s normal and so it’s really important that your mom and grandma spend the night in the room with you when that happens.

The two of them rotated between the bed and the couch.

Here is my mom on the couch:

And here is my poor grandma sleeping on the chair:

I’m really sorry you had to sleep like that grandma!

My brother Steve was also by my side for most of this crazy hospital adventure. He served as the coherent person in the room when I was doped up on morphine and the doctors were trying to explain crazy things to me about my intestines.

Of course, my amazing boyfriend was there as well. He held my hand through everything and was awesome and brought me roses and I love him because he is so awesome. And once, when the nurse was pumping drugs into my IV, I was holding his hand and the nurse was all snark and all, “What do you think is going to happen?” And I was all, “Nothing. I just like to hold his hand.” Boo-ya!

Now, to answer the question I know you’re all thinking: How the heck did my stomach get so screwed up? Well, it turns out that taking 9-12 Advil a day, every day for 10 years can mess you up. I basically can never take another Ibuprofen again for the rest of my life. Ever.

Also, for the next 30 days I can’t eat tomatoes, drink soda or have large meals. So far so good on all of those, even though before this happened I basically lived pop and large, heavy tomato-based meals. The last restriction though — no chocolate — well, ya. I hope the doctor wasn’t super serious about that one.

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Wrist rest: De Quervain’s tenosynovitis

Typing really sucks right now because I have De Quervain’s tenosynovitis, which is more commonly known as Tendonitis.

Basically my tendons are swollen in my wrists. Both of them. And the part where they go over the bone feels like someone is jabbing an ice hammer into the side of my arm and trying to crush my bones at all times.

I’m on prescription pain meds and have to do “wrist rest” (say that 10 times. Strike that. Try to say that even three times fast. I dare you) for two weeks. Part of the wrist rest involves wearing super sexy braces that curve up over my thumb, and make it impossible to bend them my wrist.  Basically, their only downfall is that they are removable.

So all day, I’m like, “Well, obviously the doctor didn’t mean I had to wear them when I do my hair and make-up in the morning.” And, “Obviously, I’m not actually supposed to wear them when I’m getting dressed.” Followed by, “Well it’s not like I can actually wear them when I put clothes in the washer, or brush my teeth or rinse dishes or breathe. No reasonable person would ask me to do that.”

So ya, I need to work on that.

Anyway, all this means that playing Words with Friends really hurts, checking emails really hurts, and typing this post really hurts. So I’m going to be healing my wrists for at least the next week and likely won’t get back to your Words with Friends game until it automatically resigns me for not playing for 22 days or whatever the limit is.

Sorry in advance.

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