17. 07 .13 Over the course of a month…
Dear Werribee Mercy Hospital,
I am writing this letter to complain about your staff/patient services in the early hours of June the first 2013.
I awoke suddenly at approximately 4.00am after a very relaxed night of seeing ‘The Great Gatsby’ and stuffing myself with greasy food at TGIF on Chapel street accompanied by my best-friend, your average youthful Saturday night.
Pains, pains I’d never experienced before, something i can only describe like giving birth from my side or what I would imagine a burst appendix would feel like, these were my thoughts at the time.
Upon arrival your staff informed me that I should have taken panadol before going to emergency, if you know me, you’d know i don’t even like going to the doctors let alone causing a fuse looking like a drowned cat in public. By this point I was already vomiting in pain (takes a lot for me to carry on like a toddler) I’m sure a panadol could have fixed me.
There was not a single soul in emergency that night beside myself and my mother whom I had dragged out of bed, after the extended period of time it took for me to drag myself to her room, delusional, speech impaired vomiting down the hallway. (I didn’t even think to call her phone or throw inanimate objects around the room)
You proceeded to admit me for what would end up being duration of 7 hours, during this time your staff suggested I was pregnant, I had an ultrasound which didn’t show up anything and then an x-ray which discovered a light round shape and the diagnosis of kidney stones was confirmed.
The urine sample which was requested earlier in the night came out a dark brown colour that resembled mud with no exaggeration, to which you confirmed I was severely dehydrated and unable to make the link that maybe my kidney wasn’t even functioning, Wouldn’t take an expert you’d think? instead your staff member jabbed me in the butt and put me out of my misery. (morphine)
Temporarily …
Returning home, with my x-ray picture and no given direction I continued to vomit throughout the next night approximately every 20 or less minutes (imaging the insanity I experienced) I cried out, quietly. Regularly the family told me to sleep.
The Next Day:
After hours in the waiting room with a vomit bag at our family doctor we are called in, My mother proceeded to slap the doctors jokingly as he swivels over in his fat leather chair ready to look up my x-ray reference number, at this point the full overview and analysis from Werribee Mercy had been published.
The doctor quickly wrote out a referral letter and instructed me to go to Sunshine Hospital where the so-called specialist would be located. oh and the fact that my kidney was obstructed along with some sort of extreme internal core temperature reading, I’m not surprised, surrounded by idiots.
Later That Night…
Hours Upon more hours of public hospital procedures, the nurses gave me panadol (again) sat me in a corner and I watched as the western suburbs fed off each other’s flesh.
I realised how many mothers took their kids to emergency for no reason, How more than half of the people in there didn’t even look sick, how addicts would pace around waiting to be dosed up and the most memorable a drunken alcoholic woman who had just been brutally bashed by her partner, she attended emergency with her three girlfriends… planned on going back home to him later that night.
The nurses where quick to stick a cannula in my arm and send me back to the waiting room, that should keep you grounded, Hours later I was finally admitted into the emergency overnight care.
(skipping over other pokes and jabs)
My mother was sent home as I lay in a dark cell defined by tacky curtains, my heavily pregnant night nurse without much communication proceeded to jab me in the arm, putting me to sleep for a couple of hours
(morphine)
After waking from my slumber I was asked if I’d allow a tablet to be put up my rectum (hell I was dying anyway) I laid in my misery as she lubed up and went down town. I instantly told her I was going to shit myself, (hahahhaa) she told me to resist and hold it…
After she’d wattled off I proceeded to wattle my own ass out of my cell and to the nearest bathroom, she insisted I checked my feces to make sure the tablet had been dissolved and hadn’t exploded out my arse hole or she’d have to give me another. (comforting)Of course I checked (are you kidding me) I flushed that shit straight away and bounced back to bed still on my high from the sneaky arm jab…
The Next Morning..
I awoke to my mother already back by my side as the two transport ambulance workers where here to claim me from the grips of Sunshines obscene methods.
I was blissfully unaware a small Asian man who had spent the night across from me in this fine establishment had been suffering the same fate as myself and was being transported with me. (road-trip)
They’d strapped us down and wheeled us out on beds like psych-patients I had multiple movie moments while watching the rectangle ceiling lights continuously pass my vision, this must be what it’s like entering the golden gates. The daylight was harsh; the fresh air was a blessing though it didn’t last long.
So here we are, me and this guy strapped down side by side on my first ambulance adventure, I could see out the window at cars as they drive to work, unsure if they could see me. This guy wasn’t much of a talker though we did end up crossing paths at the next location multiple times and he even came by my room to say goodbye as he got released earlier than myself. Jealous.
Arriving at 3 West
What would come to be my second home, An important thing to note at this stage is that TGIF was my last meal, from the 4am wake-up Vomiting/Werribee hospital/Doctors/Sunshine hospital was all done while ‘fasting’ that’s enough to send anybody insane.
So here we are, starving away laying here frustrated wanting to go home and eat a cow. Dehydrated as fuck.
I was about ready to explode.
Like all things in hospitals they take time, It was either another night or another two nights that I had to wait until my operation was scheduled.
Meeting the Experts…
Finally people who knew what was going on, knew how I felt, what I was going through. They guided me through the procedure and all the in-between my surgeon even drew me a lovely diagram of the stent they were putting into my kidney, which connected down into my bladder being placed around my 3mm stone being inserted through my urethra.
The operation went smoothly, I was successfully knocked out and am yet to remember a thing.
Waking up I felt better than every other day before.
The nurse tried to get me to pee in a pan lying down in the bed, which wasn’t happening as I felt a sharp sting rush through my lower region every time I tried.
Passing urine was a stinging nightmare for days it looked like a shark attack sea of red. The first time I looked at it I was verging passing out and had to be wheeled back to my bed. From then on I made my mother look at it every time before passing on the disgusting substance to the nurse on duty to sift and measure, the amount of blood after my operation was later further justified with the fact that I had gotten my period after the operation.
He came to visit me… about a week before this whole thing happened I’d broken up with my long-term boyfriend (karma) ‘the one’ the one that I thought was the one.. One particular event that changed my thought process, In my own twisted head I thought I could let him go and claim him back when I was older, ready to settle down and have a family, at this point I was not, Obviously.
He is so nice I don’t deserve it, his upset with me, wants me to take him back, proceeds to take me to the bathroom and wash me in the shower (which my mum usually helped with but she hadn’t come in yet) I don’t recall speaking after that, thank-you though I appreciated it.
Going Back Home…
A week later I was back on the home stretch stone, stent and all (still in tact) everything was too swollen and disturbed to do the whole procedure in one hit.
I spent most of my time lying around the television like a gremlin as friends brought me snacks. You learn who your friends are in times like this. More time passed peeing was a constant weird, sore, less delightful activity to endure so many times in a day. My diet had been dropped down to the minimal; No soft drink, milk or take away, I’d lost weight by now which is always a bonus.
I’d started to venture out a little, only to sit around and drink water while everyone else boozed up.
The Morning I wish I hadn’t woken up..
Approx. 12:30pm I’d slept in, woken feeling weak and completely off..
I’d walked around the house only to discover nobody was home, made myself eat a piece of toast (honey is my new thing) and dragged myself five minutes down the road to my friend’s house to lay around and watch ‘Warm Bodies’ which I’d been contemplating hiring off iTunes with a voucher I’d obtained due to my misguided kidney.
Still feeling very off I’d finished a bottle of water and lay shaking uncontrollably, Footscray hospital was calling me to confirm my next operation and ask me a million questions about my personal health, outside in the backyard on the phone I just wanted the conversation to be over. I felt like I was going to throw up after every word I said. (Which I did not inform the receptionist) yes she works for the hospital but like she’s going to be able to help me. She is asking me about illegal drugs and possibilities of being pregnant.. again.
After the phone call was all over my shakes built up a notch and I didn’t want to admit that I might very well be doomed. I scavenged back home, I knew I had a time limit with this one and my friend can’t drive. I sat on the toilet, I then proceeded to layer jumpers on I had a massive fever and I was shaking like I was having a constant seizure. I grabbed the barf bucket out of the laundry and propped myself up on the couch. At this point Levi had spotted me outside the window and had started barking at me and howling for me to go out to him, which upset me, we already had to spend a week apart due to all this.
That was it hey I’d had enough. I was crying and shaking simultaneously. I picked up my phone and called my mum telling her she had to come home right now. Something is wrong.
She didn’t take very long to arrive maybe 10 minutes she gave me some panadol.. fuck panadol, She told me I’d have to go to the doctors which made me cry more. I hadn’t gotten upset and cried on the outside through this whole ordeal not until this day.
I said I didn’t want to go, I felt so fragile I didn’t want to set foot out the door.
We tried to get a home visit doctor but apparently they had to be booked in advanced, naturally I was dragged out of the house and into the car with a blanket and in one of Mums jumpers that apparently had more warming powers then my own.
We arrived at a booked appointment, which never the less took hours to be seen. Sitting in a waiting room I cried like a baby, in front of everyone I didn’t care I knew they where sending me back to hell soon enough. By this point I felt like a psych-patient that kept escaping, a constant feeling, tell me I’m wrong?
Our family doctor was not in on this day though apparently this doctor was a relative, family is family right? I told him my current situation and the fact that I was as cold as a polar bear in the Antarctic. He sent me off for a pee test. The results came up instantly with infection and the temperature test wasn’t much better peaking at 39, 40.
Yay another Adventure…
Another emergency referral later, another waiting cell. Footscray how I’d missed you. I had been gathering sweat patches through my jumper by this point, down my back, under my arms, wet hair. And I was cold. Not just cold freezing. And everyone was insisting on taking my jumper away from me like a dog out in the rain.
By now I was used to the drill, blood pressure this, head swab that, piss in this, blood out of there, sit in here, lay down there.
A row of curtained cubical in Footscray emergency. Some half-wit to my left had trouble swallowing food or some shit and his girlfriend was loud as fuck. Annoying loud. Inconsiderately laughing and joking to him in the emergency temporary placement ward constantly whining about how bored and hungry she was. It was really starting to fuck me off, (the amount of swearing in my vocabulary had peaked during this trying time in my life) mum was making faces at the whole experience also. I put up with it until she started talking about giving blow jobs as her boyfriend or not was asking about details. While I was a curtain away vomiting my guts up. THAT’S IT BITCH! I yelled out to her ‘could you please shut the fuck up people are fucking sick in here’ which was followed by the person to my right who thanked me and proceeded to get my back along with my mum. The ‘sick’ male had one comeback towards the patient next to me about her ‘Poor English’ not mine, mine was fucking impeccable, They proceeded to shut the fuck up as per my request. The poor girl was shamed out.
Here We Go…
Another night in an emergency ward, I was a little at ease. Because well.. At least I was in Footscray the home of Urology, kidney experts on hand to save my poor soul. Fluids fluids, fluids, I’d gotten used to the concept of living off a ‘bacon and egg’ bag as a nurse had referred it to me earlier on in the experience.
Hours pass, they collect me for an x-ray who is keeping count, I’ve had many now. The nurse is cute and I specifically remember a comment as he waited with me outside the x-ray room with a fellow work mate asking me how I’m going and if I’m okay, his friend replied and he said ‘not you I don’t care about you’ I then told him I needed to pee and ruined our short lived moment. He wheeled me to the nearest toilet while I lay on my portable bed of torture. Whilst entering the toilet he told me I’d have to take my singlet off from under my robe, as he stood outside the door I proceeded to smack my head on the door (which he told my mum when we got back)
Once again mum had drifted off into the night, down some creeping hallways past the real psych building and off home. I’d put myself to sleep, as I’d become used to doing, fasting again.
Morning.
Back into my hometown, on the scene 3 west they’d missed me (Probably not) lucky for me a friend of mine was doing nursing placement on my very ward, she’d bring me the good pick of the sandwiches not that i could eat 90% of the time but still.
My urology doctors and surgeon come over to see me once I’m back on the ward, they’re telling me about all the tests they are doing to work out where the infection is harvesting. They put me on extremely high doses of antibiotics, a couple of different kinds something for everything just to target every possible outlet.
The cannula from last night malfunctions and I watch as my hand starts to bloat and fill with fluid, red dots aligning around the entrance NURSE! Your trying to kill me, turn it off. Out it comes. Dripping fluid and all.
I’m starting to get familiar with all the medical processes being performed on me, a bit of an expert if you ask me, nah don’t ask me. Sometimes I’m feeling uplifting, I want to make myself laugh ‘you’ll have to speak up I’m wearing a gown’.
If this weren’t bad enough the rest of the day would go down as the second worst experience in this hospital. So dehydrated and riddled with infection my veins had gone to wonderland. It took five or so people having attempts with sharp needles all over my arms to give me a new cannula say five people and eight failed attempts moving needles around under my skin trying to find a vein. They had to call other doctors, call the anaesthetist it was horrible I closed my eyes 95% of the time. they even suggested other inlets like my feet.
And before the cannula came the catheter that wasn’t smooth ether, it took two failed attempts before somebody with knowledge came along to save me, of course a male knows his way around the vagina better than these nurses. So that’s three times a tube was fed though my body while I lay there. The first time they told me to attempt to pee and that I did yes I pee’d the bed. Thank you, for that graceful experience. she probably put the tube into my vagina not my pee hole?
So there it was, my second trip was spent being tortured, bruised from needles, pissing into a bag, hardly moving and constantly fed different types of antibiotics for a week straight. And there was that one night I felt like my arm was broken, just saying.
The Big Day…
My Hogwarts letter had been received, this was it, you have to go back. You’ve come this far, they wont take no for an answer. Follow direction.
Refreshing not having to come in through the emergency doors, a scheduled appointment, my mind was turned off in advance. It wasn’t that bad, a lot of waiting around expecting the same outcome. No surprises.
Hours of waiting, waiting, waiting… wedding magazines, junkie looking girl, wondering around in a robe, shower cap and shoes that where practically a hair net with string.
I ask questions, I don’t usually but I do now. I make small talk and pretty much say anything that’s on my mind. I must have told about six different nurses, doctors and surgeons that I had my period. Well I did.
They wanted to take my undies, twice. But I have my period?
My last period was late. Like as far as I remember over two weeks late, the stones would have done that, but at the time I had no idea? What I’m trying to say is with the first operation I woke up with my period, and with the second one I went to sleep with my period. Did I mention how much I love my body?
So here we go, another ride down the halls looking at the ceiling, into the anaesthetic room, I remember this! Hello anaesthetic room (out loud) ‘oh so you’re a frequent flyer’ ahaha I hope not. My body should bloody hope not, because if it decides to pull any of this shit on me ever again, I won’t be taking it to the hospital.
Coming Out…
When I awake I like to embrace the peacefulness and bliss of feeling nothing. I try to go back to sleep and stay there, all warm and comfortable. I’m not sure but I felt like I’d just experienced a tube coming out from deep in my throat (most likely accurate) I even recall vomiting, I defiantly felt shit after a while of bliss.
The anesthetist leans over me and I swear he tells me they’d found another stone during the operation and that it had been taken care of, but this was never confirmed.
After a while of ‘sweet chilling’ the nurse comes to walk back beside my bed as we go to the ward, I know this now, from last time. Procedure for most things are locked into my memory.
Mum is waiting for me, what would I do without mum? Who would be waiting there? I am alone on this journey, great timing for a break up. Would I be wheeled over to my vomit bag? How I’ve missed you, I’m glad you’re here to see how it all went.
This is My Worst Night;
The feelings just crept up on me. I didn’t expect to feel this sick, I mean sick, but this, this is something else.
By the time mum leaves I feel like I am on a roller coasted that I can’t get off. I’m spinning around, literally. So much pain that I can’t stay still, I don’t want to stay still. I’m moaning and just making noise. Whatever would come out, vomiting, vomiting constantly, crying in pain, and pressing my nurse call remote.
I want them to put me out of my misery; I ask to be knocked out. They keep giving me this tiny pill and telling me it’s strong. If it were strong I wouldn’t be feeling like this, it’s clearly not working as I keep vomiting, I can see it floating in the vomit bag, see, there it is! Do something about it, they come back with another small pill. A new face appears, I plead for something stronger and she gives me false hopes of a jab in the arm or buttocks, the other nurse says no.
No? No wonder I’m worked up, tossing my pillow around, the guy opposite me looking over at me half the night, he looked stressed, I must be stressing him out, he pressed the nurse call for me and asked a couple of occasions if I was alright, maybe to check I hadn’t slipped into a comber. At lest somebody is looking out for me, it eases me a little, I don’t even know your name but thank you.
The next day is painful but only half as painful, the hard pains I thought I was going to be stuck with for at least a week are easing, I walk to the cafeteria for a sandwich. Two sleepovers.
Many people have had the pleasure of visiting the disturbing overwhelming habitat I’ve been placed in, smuggle me food and watch me pee through a tube, with a constant swollen red-faced look I’ve come to wear well.
I’m Home Now.
After the surgery I woke up with an expected long string taped to my leg. A temporary stent into the kidney, one that is manually pulled out, I have to deal with this now. I don’t want to deal with it. I can’t deal with anything.
I spend the next five days laying on the couch, eating on the couch, sleeping on the couch. I don’t want to go up the stairs to my room, I don’t want to feel any pain, be alone or die in my sleep. I know this is highly unlikely but it’s my mind playing tricks on me.
I must be kept close as I’m almost sure something is going to go wrong.. But it doesn’t, I survived. I had two home visits, yes I’m lonely but I’m not going to ask anyone to come and see me, I appreciate those who did, I needed it.
Day Five..
I’ve been looking forward to this day, it tells me I’ll be cutting ties with the couch.
I’m feeling okay, I want to go shopping, I’m determent to feel good enough to walk around the shops after we leave the hospital.
Four west:
I’ve been on this floor once before, while waiting for my meds, it’s where all the lost souls confine to one room before being formally discharged with their new life plan.
It feels different this time, I’m looking around feeling sorry for everyone, there is this one full room down the hall where patents sit getting some sort of drip, it looks like a blood donors room but I’m not seeing red, It disturbs me, it still disturbs me.
Urology:
The nurse is nice, all the staff is nice here, I ask her how it is going to feel, while mum stands there making me uncomfortable telling her she thinks I’m going to pee myself when they pull it out, to put a pad down, we aren’t the only people in this room, thanks.
The nurse says it’s going to feel like having a catheter out, I remember that feeling, weird but not exactly painful. Calms me a little I guess.
Mum is allowed to watch, she should have filmed it, I mean I wanted to see it just not in real-time, real-time was too much for me. It lasted a while, I guess, it is a long tube. I could feel pee running down to my bum crack, yay.
I make uncomfortable noises, I feel like this is the last thing I will have to endure. It’s over it’s done, wipe my crack and send me to the cafeteria for a drink. I have to drink, to fill my bladder again so they can check my urine, measure it and do an ultrasound to check I’ve emptied it all out.
Done, leaving, gone.
I have a follow-up appointment at the hospital for a later date.
Part Two –
Trust Issues.
I don’t trust my body anymore, we are no longer friends, playing games is not my style. My body heats up and I lay here wondering fuck, am I on the verge of death again or is this a false alarm. Shit. Sharp pain there, hurts here, but what could it all mean. I could be blissfully lying in a hospital bed three hours from now. Dear body, I hate you too.
It’s only just hit me, a month and a half later, my body is most definitely out of tune. By hit me I mean only now I want to cry, be sad, maybe even depressed.
How much constipation and vomiting can one person bare? Laying in the dark night after night. Alone. I haven’t even begun processing my break up, breaking up with ‘life’ has consumed me. What is sex, I feel anxious to be hugged now, like please don’t break me. I’m hardly holding on.
(Anxiety)
The Immune System.
Does it really work in my favour? Infection was like a slow and slightly gentle slip into unconsciousness, it worries me. It’s supposed to be all over yet I feel like my immune system is so far down that if I stood over the line my head would explode into a thousand pieces.
Thoughts:
Eat healthy, don’t do drugs, not smoke cigarettes, don’t drink alcohol something will kill you, fries, no fries, fried food is out of the question. Chips, coke, any soft drink, milk, iced coffee, milo, I will never drink milo ever again, who the fuck said 70% calcium was good for you.
Back to reality, keep busy, making money, finish studying..
Keep the perspective that your personal life hasn’t turned to complete shit, it’s me myself and I, always has been, who led you to believe it wasn’t always this way? Fitness, eat healthy, I’ve been trying to a 80% capacity, soccer was fun lets keep doing that…
What good is money if you’re not spending it on something? Using it all for food and petrol seems like a sort of waste to me, but that’s it that’s what we are doing to survive, eating and driving to work to have money to do more eating.. Obviously I don’t have the worries of a house.
Today is just another day in paradise, trying to push myself to get things done, running around in the cold, alone, lonely. Being lost and late has pretty much reduced me to tears, when I tried so hard. I’m determined nothing is going to stop me from graduating. Not now.
I’m still not overly keen on the idea of ‘god’ seems like a grasp for lost souls to me, but today, today something is looking out for me, bringing me back to grips.
A loud protest, a purple paper microphone draws my attention and naturally they are standing in front of the building I have endlessly been wondering around looking for the last half hour, I figure since the class is finishing in 15 minutes I might as well go up and check it out, for next time, so I know where I’m going, it’s empty, great.
I had failed to notice the protest going on downstairs was a teacher’s strike and my class has been cancelled but I can’t get angry, I’d missed the whole thing regardless, this is the sign. Something is looking out for me, saying hey don’t worry, next week you’ll get it, I have faith in you. This keeps me going. In this world of chaos and loneliness there is always a silver lining.
Relationships
At this point it’s all about making myself feel good, the shoes the clothes, the rock hard abs, expensive makeup and accessories. Screw them they will never have you ‘you’ve got this’ you’ve always had control of the situation ‘aint no man going to bring me down’.
You have too many issues for me, you and every other toy boy.
Are you feeling normal yet? (note to self)
All that hospital time is nothing but a distant memory now, one that I will remember but nobody else will even think about? What are you worried about..
Six months are all it will take, this it what needs to be done:
Complete classes
Monday night
Wednesday
Work
Monday
Tuesday
Thursday
Friday
Sleep and eat
Love thy puppy
Graduate
Find ‘the’ job.
Yours sincerely Ashwa and her underwhelmed right kidney.
Dedicated to Mum
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – Into my arms