Monday

My gallbladder acted up again, severely, on Monday. It was pretty ghastly. I went to Northeast; my care was abysmal and they kicked me out, still in agony. Their attitude seemed to be: we offered you narcotics, that's what you really want.

I kept telling them no narcotics. They gave me some anyway. I wasn't happy, and got a horrible headache the next day. One reason I hate narcotics, they give me headaches.

I was diagnosed with my first gallstone at age 18. It followed a soon-to-be-predictable pattern. Agonizing pain in the upper right abdomen for hours, gradually fading. They'd come and go over the years. If I went to the ER, they never said the word "gallstone" but they'd tell me to go home, and take it easy. It wasn't going to kill me and I'd be fine. I believed them. It was true at the time.

Fast-forward to last year. I've lost 55 pounds on a low-carb diet. I've had quite a bit of emotional stress last year, too. Here come the gallstones again. Except they're increasing in frequency, longer duration, and more intense pain.

I hate going to the hospital; especially since my husband got sick. I'd rather suffer at home for hours than go to a hospital, even if the pain is agonizing. If I'm at the hospital, the pain is a good "8" on a 1-10.

Monday at work I am literally doubled over with pain. The pain is a "9" on a 1-10. I didn't want to go to the hospital. I delayed it as long as possible, helping my husband. This was probably very foolish but I've mentioned I hate hospitals.

I get flashbacks to all the horrible health crises he's had. I hate it.

Finally, someone drags me off to the hospital. I figured "Northeast" would be good. They are part of a non-profit chain of hospitals that claim to provide excellent care. Nonprofit means no monster bill for Heather and Ron.

I got one vital signs check, one palpation abdominal exam, multiple offers of pain pills, couldn't pick my nurse out of a lineup, never saw a real doctor, and was refused tests that I have now determined are vital for someone in my condition. Ghastly.

About 8 years ago, my husband had agonizing groin pain. He went to Ben Taub, aka "County". He had a very long wait in the waiting room, but when he got a bed he had not one, but 3 doctors come in and examine him. It's a teaching hospital. I love the idea of helping to educate people.

Ron had multiple "male" exams, got his blood drawn, had a urology consult. The urologist came in late on a weekend night and spent a lot of time with us, discussing the possibilities. Ron was given an ultrasound and the urologist came back. We didn't leave until they were certain they had done everything they could for him. Ron had an infection. It cleared up with the antibiotics they prescribed. Looking back, it was excellent care.

I'm sure that's why God allowed Monday, as I'm thinking of it, to happen. The best care for Heather B may not be at the fancy hospital, but the down-in-the-trenches county hospital.

Being a foolish and stubborn woman, though, I'm going to wait until I'm half dead before I go.