Finally, with a diagnosis of Gastroenteritis in tow, we made our triumphant return home. The doctor kindly sent us on our way with a stash of six Zofran and five Morphine pills, (help with prescriptions) accompanied by the standard ritual of signing away one’s life. It was the ungodly hour of 3:30 AM, and we were embarking on yet another homeward journey. And let me tell you, it was one of those rough nights.
Rob’s pain seemed to be playing a never-ending game of hot and cold. He’d go from sweating bullets to shivering in an instant, then back to roasting again. This temperature rollercoaster went on and on, making for a restless night’s sleep. We both managed to snatch about an hour of rest before my work schedule called me away.
After putting in my hours, I embarked on a quest to pick up his medications, again signing my life away and nearly taking a crash course in pharmacology was all part of the adventure. I finally made my way back home, where I found the poor man sprawled in bed, looking like he’d just been through the toughest fight of his life. He dutifully took his meds but proceeded to flop around the bed like a fish out of water, clearly uncomfortable. This odd dance continued for the next 12 hours. He’d go from scorching hot to freezing cold and back again in a seemingly endless cycle. It was like the world’s least enjoyable game of temperature ping-pong.
Colitis/Ilieitis
It’s 9 AM, I was gearing up for yet another workday when the phone rang, and it was the Emergency Room calling. Surprise! It turns out, they’d made a little oopsie in their diagnosis. Instead of the expected gastroenteritis, they informed us that it was actually Colitis and Ileitis of the right side. You know, just a slight mix-up in the belly department.
Naturally, we considered making a triumphant return to the ER to sort this out. But just as we were getting ready to embark on another ER adventure, his Primary Care Physician (PCP) chimed in. The PCP had some wisdom to share, saying that the only ticket to the magical land of GI Docs was through some insurance changes.
So, we put our thinking caps on and hatched a brilliant plan – take him back to the ER! Of course, he was still dealing with the whole vomiting and “some more stuff” situation, and he tried to convince me to do the ER run after I finished work. But we eventually decided it was best to send him in earlier to avoid the dreaded ER waiting room odyssey. Ah, the adventures in healthcare never cease to amaze me!
Admitted
We summoned an Uber, and off to the ER he zoomed, while I prepared myself for a day of work that promised to be just as eventful as a circus. Upon his arrival at the ER, they whisked him off for the usual check-in and triage procedures. Lo and behold, they discovered he was running a fever of 103 degrees and wasn’t exactly the picture of healthy.
So, what did they do next? Naturally, they sent him to the internal waiting room, a place that’s like a purgatory for the medically impatient, where he’d spend the next four hours. They generously offered him some Tylenol and a bed, which he accepted with the enthusiasm of a koala trying to do gymnastics.
Finally, a bed became available, and they promptly embarked on what felt like a million tests. The verdict? Due to his fever and his inability to keep anything down they decided he’d be enjoying the fine amenities of the hospital for the next couple of nights.
I managed to escape from work and a meeting and made my grand return to the hospital. Imagine my surprise when I found him saying, “I feel better, I’m going home!” Oh, the optimism! Well, as you can probably guess, that wasn’t quite the case.
Wife cannot stay
After what felt like a never-ending marathon of tests, an angel in scrubs finally appeared and declared, “Eureka! We have a bed for you, the illustrious 2N-2038!” They continued with, “Your lovely wife can accompany you on this magical journey, but alas, visiting hours end at 8 PM. She can return at the crack of dawn, precisely at 8 AM.”
We stared at each other as if we’d just been told the world’s last chocolate chip cookie had been eaten. Shock, anger, sadness – you name it, we felt it. Rob even declared, “If I go, he goes!” in protest.
Well, that’s when I couldn’t contain myself any longer and burst into laughter. I mean, we endured four whole months apart and now we were squabbling over a measly 12 hours… for the sake of his health we can manage? So, we headed up to his room, got him settled in, and off I went.
Gastroenteritis or Salmonella
At the stroke of 8 AM, I was at his hospital room door, prompt as a punctual penguin. It felt like we’d been separated for an eternity, but finally, we were reunited. As we sat there, catching up on his antibiotics regimen and the thrilling saga of his bathroom trips a guest arrived. In walked the Doc, ” She dropped the bombshell news: Rob had a full-on case of Salmonella poisoning, and it had decided to party in his bloodstream too. To our mixed emotions, she predicted we’d be stuck in the hospital for another 3-5 nights.
On one hand, we were relieved to finally know the cause of his ordeal, but on the other hand, the thought of spending five more nights without him didn’t sit well with me. So, I rushed through my workday, fueled by the urgency to hurry back to his side. This journey back to good health might be long and winding, but with Rob at the wheel, you can bet he’s will finish first place as usual. Fasten your seatbelts, folks, it’s gonna be a wild ride! To be continued… Rob’s story.