I spent a huge chunk of the day Wednesday in the hospital emergency room.
Because water is the devil.
I hate H20 and consequently, I never drink enough of it. I prefer soda and that makes my kidneys angry. Very, very angry.
I had a kidney stone. I suspected that I did when I went in because I have had kidney stones with both of my pregnancies with the boys, but my suspicions and medical history were not enough for the doctor on duty.
He wanted tests. Lots and lots of tests.
Apparently, my lack of a medical degree did not impress him. Instead it bought me a urinalysis, five blood draws, two ultrasounds and the longest pelvic exam of my life.
Did I mention the attending physician was a young, good-looking guy?
Yep, that was awkward.
Add to that a morphine injection for pain, which sounds good in theory, but made me horrendously ill for the next twenty four hours.
I was definitely having a bad day.
And all the tests came back clear, except my kidney looked a little inflamed on the ultrasound. The same kidney that I complained about being sore.
The doctor still dismissed my kidney stone theory and went with a vague diagnosis of “must be some sort of infection.”
He called my OB and they agreed on an antibiotic.
An antibiotic and a pain medication that I ended up waiting for over an hour to be filled at the pharmacy. Which would normally have just been annoying, but I was still suffering from the awful side effects from the morphine, so it was slow torture.
It just so happens that there was a nice older woman who was being shuffled back and forth from the patient consultation window to the pay counter at the pharmacy. She noticed about 20 minutes into my wait that I was not feeling well and she asked me if I was okay. I thought that was so nice of her. I assured her I was fine and she walked away, but after that she kept a watchful eye on me.
When I went up to the pay counter almost an hour later and they made me wait while they finished filling my scripts and running them through the system, she came up behind me and offered me a chair to sit in.
And then, while the pharmacy tech was ringing me up, I found out that my insurance didn’t cover the pain medicine and because I didn’t think to take my purse with me to the hospital that morning, I didn’t have any backup money on me.
The nice lady offered to pay for my medicine. Twice.
I felt like John Quinones would jump out of an aisle at any moment and tell me that we were on Primetime’s What Would You Do? show.
I was embarrassed and I thanked her and told her I would send my husband back to pick it up later. I was touched by her concern and generosity, but I couldn’t let her do it.
I drove home crying.
And then I spent the rest of that night miserable from morphine poisoning.
Only to wake up the next morning and pass a kidney stone.
I knew I should have went to med school.
So, I called my doctor and told them that I was putting the kabbash on the unnecessary antibiotic regimen.
The trip to the emergency room did have one perk though. I got in an unexpected half hour of baby watching.
I got even more nervous when I thought I heard the ultrasound tech say. “and here’s HIS umbilical cord…”
I looked at the screen in shock. “Did you just say HIS umbilical cord?!”
The tech looked back at me in surprise, “Oh, no. I said, ‘And THIS is the umbilical cord.’ I looked for the sex at the beginning of the scan and I couldn’t tell.”
I wish now that I had asked why she couldn’t tell, but at this late in the game…I think that a penis probably should have been pretty obvious.
That has to be a good sign. :)
I’m getting my anatomy scan done early by Maternal-Fetal Medicine at the hospital so I will hopefully (assuming baby cooperates) find out soon.
Until then, I should probably drink a few hundred gallons of water.