Friday, April 14, 2006

A patient patient I ain't

You know what? I'm a rotten patient. Not only do I have no patience whatsoever, but I can't seem to learn one of the basic lessons around being sick and/or injured: if it hurts, stop doing it.

I went into the office Wednesday, for the first time in about three weeks. I left the house at 5:45 and got into the office at 8:45 – half an hour longer than usual due to delays on the trains. And coming home was no better. Short BART train, had to wait half an hour, in the rain, for the shuttle, had to walk the entire length of the ACE train car before I found a suitable seat and then scored the blabbermouth seatmate and was too tired and pain-ridden to smile politely and move seats (not that there were any seats to move to, but ordinarily I would have tried…). I left the office at 3:00, and didn't get home until 7:00.

And from about 40 minutes into the morning commute onward, I was experiencing some pretty…intriguing…pain. The kind of pain that, if I didn’t know what it was, would have caused me Great Alarm™. But, since I know what it is, it merely irritated me and made me want to cry. Which irritated me even more, since I would rather take a beating than bawl in public.

When I got home, I hobbled as fast as I could to the medicine box and swallowed a bunch of random pills that looked like they might do me some good took the dose of the Levsinex my doctor prescribed, followed a couple hours later by a dose of the Vicodin he didn't but which I have cunningly hoarded up for just such an emergency from previous surgeries. (Yes, I know, you're not supposed to do that – sue me.)

And, as my vision got blurry and my motivation dropped to an all-time low, I said to myself, slowly and with great determination, "Damn it, this is stupid. I refuse to believe this. And I'm going to the office Friday whether YOU like it or not – I'm too busy for this crap!" I added, giving myself a jab in the general area of the Damned Organ.

It responded, of course, by giving me a shock of pain that felt as though I had stuck a live wire into my abdomen.

Poking the imploded gallbladder? Not the brightest move ever.

So Thursday I took my Levsinex as prescribed: one in the morning, one at night. Because I was informed that this is something I should simply do. This is not a pain pill per se, no. It's one of those acid-reducing thingees that is supposed to work over time.

I'd like to share with you some information from the bottle:


Blah blah blah avoid alcohol don't operate machinery yadda yadda don't chew it so forth and so on.

This morning…well, may I direct your attention to the "pronounced drowsiness" part of the disclosure? Not only is it true, it also appears to be cumulative. Having taken three doses on schedule…well.

Our alarm clock goes off twice: once at 4:30 for the person who is going into the office that day, and then again at 5:30 for the person who meant to get up when Person #1 was going downstairs in a show of solidarity, to have coffee together, and then to get busy with the lunch making, kid-wrangling and so forth, but instead fell back asleep and made only the vaguest of grumbling noises when Person #1 announced their intention to go downstairs and make coffee.

I slept through both alarms. And since my husband never hears either alarm but must be forcibly pushed out of bed by yours truly when they go off, so did he.

By the time I realized it was light outside, and got my sorry butt out of bed, into clothes and downstairs, the third and final train had chugged out of the station and there I was. Stranded. Because I can't drive right now – even the brief jog over to the train station is probably pushing it from a safety perspective.

And besides. I am still pronouncedly drowsy. And unmotivated. And it hurts to walk. It also hurts to sit. And to lie down. And I've felt too queasy to eat anything. And I wanted to be in the office today because I had things I wanted to discuss in person with someone and now I have to wait until next week. If I'm still alive. And he hasn't quit the company in disgust because I've stood him up – again.

Then I got mad.

And I snarled, "Stupid damned thing!"


Memo to me: You are not smart enough to be sick and/or injured.

So stop it, immediately.


21st Century Mom said...

Ow. Tama, please stop poking yourself in the gall bladder. It hurts.

Very Herodotus said...

Are you still waiting on test results before they schedule an operation?

Please be careful commuting - you don't want to end up in so much pain that you can't get yourself home. Please.


Moira said...

Hey Tama... STOP poking yourself!!!
and call the dr... the whole squeaky wheel thing