Last time we spoke I covered that I ended up going to the hospital. The thing about our hospital is that the staff is rude and uncaring. They will make you wait hours before you can see the doctor and if your insurance isn’t good enough then you might as well have stayed home.
I hated going to the hospital but this is where I needed to go. I reached the hospital around three or four that afternoon. I didn’t see the triage nurse to get checked in until nine in the evening. After that there was another long wait to see the doctor. I personally feel that that the worse part of waiting to be seen is simply waiting. It’s the wait that really gets to you.
My boyfriend notified my parents that I was in the hospital. At that time, my father disliked him so much that he never came to the hospital to check on me. In fact, my father thought the whole situation was made up and called the hospital to see if I as actually admitted. My dad didn’t allow my mom to come to the hospital either. My father is all about control and punishment. My father never like anyone that I dated. Possibly because I dated someone who abused me for almost a year. Honestly, I don’t think he ever forgave me for that. So every boy after was already doomed. Looking back at it now, I really wished my mother fought for me. I wished my parents were there but my dad’s catering business came before my health.
When I was finally called to the back, they told me that they needed to do lab. I hate needles. I really do. I remember the sinking feeling in my gut when the nurses kept coming back to draw more blood. My boyfriend sat on the other side of the room and watched. He cracked a joke here and there to get my mind off of it. I don’t think he ever got up to really hold my hand. He simply just stood off to the side and just played on his phone.
He was affectionate in his own way but not the way that I needed him to be at that present time. Maybe I was asking for too much. I just got the feeling that he really was uncomfortable and that there was a million things he could have done other than be there. Part of me thought that he probably figure I was making it up like everyone else.
I remember the nauseating feeling that overcame me when the nurse made a mistake while drawing my blood. He kept telling me to look at at him while she went through the process but I couldn’t focus because I could feel the blood running down my arm. I saw the blood pool on the bed and the stain on my clothes. I was scared.
I was scared because I had never been so sick before. I didn’t know the underlying cause and I hated when I actually started to say something in the beginning that everyone told me it was nothing. I believed it was nothing. I actually convinced myself it was stress or working too hard.
Now, here I am sitting in the emergency room waiting for the doctor to give me my results. He said my kidneys were infected. I had an infection that went unchecked for so long that it started to spread to other parts of my body. My pressure was high as well. High enough where strokes and heart attacks where knocking right around the corner. My head was pounding and I was so cold. Of course, after a while I stopped listening to what he said. I wasn’t trying to be dramatic but I just didn’t understand how everything had gotten to this point.
The treatment was several rounds of antibiotics from a drip mixed with morphine for the pain. I didn’t know how I knew at the time, but before I fell asleep I remember thinking “What’s going to happen to my baby?”
To Be Continued…
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Day Five: The Aftermath
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