Thursday evening after we got home, I was feeling like death warmed over and so after paying my dues to the porcelain god, I went to bed. Friday morning I woke up around 1030 feeling crappy. After taking my temp which read 38.5+C (101+F) and feeling pretty low, I decided to get out my handy dandy Indonesian grammar book and write a note to Ibu Sum – to be read by my oldest – asking for someone to call Mama, get me to a doctor and generally keep me from dying.
My brother-in-law happened to be home, intercepted the note and drove me to the nearest hospital where I was triaged and seen by an internist in under 20 minutes. From the time I was triaged until the next day, I was delirious and alternating between having chills and feeling like I was on fire. Blood work was done, urine samples were taken, even stool samples were eventually taken.
I didn’t – make that COULDN’T – eat anything from Friday until Sunday morning. If I ate ONE BITE of anything, within 5 minutes, I was running for the border, dragging my IV line with me. I was hoping that I would get to go home before Sunday, but it was not to be. Which really added insult to injury because my husband – whom I had not seen for three weeks – was arriving Sunday morning. The absolute last thing I wanted was for him to see me laid up in a hospital bed with IV lines and a portable toilet by the bed. But, he arrived and I swear I started to feel better the moment I saw him. I could have eaten him up with a spoon!
There were a couple of things that kept me going while I was in hospital: 1) a forum I’m on had a thread about “Child hits doctor” which ran into the thousands of posts and it was so unwieldy that “cliffs notes” had been posted summarizing it. I remembered a lot of those threads just to keep from going crazy while I was bed-bound. 2) the portable potty seat was labeled “Dharma”. I kept thinking that the label was all wrong! Instead of looking like this:
No comments:
Post a Comment