A Blanket and a Bedchair
Until last night.
Yesterday afternoon, my daughter started complaining of nausea, stomach cramps, and back pain. The symptoms got worse as the day went on, and she started throwing up. We were going to take her in to see the doctor in the morning, but when we called to set up the appointment, his answering service called him, and he told us to take her to the hospital.
So, last night around 9:30, we walked in to St Mary's Women's Pavilion. Her doctor had already ordered the tests he wanted to run, so once we got there, things happened fairly quickly.
The nausea and vomiting had caused her to become seriously dehydrated, which complicated the underlying problem, either a kidney infection, or a small stone. At first, we were only going to be there a couple of hours while they rehydrated her and gave her some medicine for the nausea, but once the lab work came back, her doctor decided to admit her for 23 hours (Ain't insurance great! The 23 hour limit is to differentiate between in patient and out patient treatments.) to try and resolve the kidney issues.
So, around 130AM, they wheeled her into a small private room, plugged tubes and monitors all about her person, poking holes in places God never intended for there to be holes, and then told her to try and get some sleep. It took a couple of hours and 4 trips to the bathroom, but eventually the meds kicked in and she went to sleep.
I got to sleep (If you define sleep as tossing and turning on a chair that folded out into a worthy replica of a Medieval torture rack) for roughly 2 hours before the day nurse came in to brightly assure us that we could continue to sleep if we'd like.
Thanks so much.
By 830, Erinne was hungry, which is always a good sin, and her doctor told her that as long as the fever broke, the pain was gone and she could handle solid food, she could go home this afternoon.
It did, it was, she could, and we did.
Now I'm going to get some sleep.
PS: I left out the part of the story about my blanket.
So did the nurse.
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