Say 8 or rather Say Chest Pain

"Say 8" is one of the many jokes from Brian Regan's bit about going to the emergency room that kept me company in my own journey to the emergency room yesterday. Yes, you read that right. I spent 5.5 hours in the emergency room yesterday because I started having chest pain. Don't freak out! Apparently these are the magic words that strike fear into the hearts of loved ones, and these are the words that rush you right through the waiting room at the ER. I wish I had known this all along; I've spent countless hours in the waiting room of the ER wishing for a Fast Pass, but those are other stories.

I woke up yesterday with the lingering chest pain from the night before. I worked out because yes, I am that crazy, and then decided to look on WebMD for ideas as to what might be causing the problem. Every single thing associated with chest pain urged me to see a health care professional immediately. This thoroughly annoyed me. I didn't want my day to be inconvenienced because of some stupid chest pain (indeed this is the statement of my mother's daughter!) Initially I thought I'd try to get in to my GP or go to urgent care so I could make it to 2nd or 3rd hour to teach. I called my principal and he encouraged me not to come. Good thing because my GP said "we send all chest pain to the ER" and 6 hours later I was leaving the ER. So no school for Katie yesterday.

Driving to the ER was a "pleasant drive" and when I got to the hospital I saw that they had valet parking. Brian would be so proud! If there's ever a place that needs valet parking, this is it! But there was no attendant standing outside! So I tried to find the ER to park and enter. I circled the hospital for 10 minutes trying to find the ER! I really think they need better sign-age for a place like that. A big blinking red sign would be amazing, with a bunch of little signs pointing from every direction to the ER seems quite logical. Luckily I found it without "imploding."

So I walked into the ER and I was a bit relieved they didn't ask me "what seems to be the problem?" or I may have started laughing right then and there. After taking my vitals and hearing the words chest pain, they sent me right to triage. While in triage a 70 year-old man came in with chest pain, and the nurse who was training a new nurse explained that you don't triage a 70 year-old man with chest pain, you just send him right in, but if it were a 20 year-old they'd check him out first. Then she picked up my chart and said "Classic example!" She asked me some questions, one of which was "How would you rate your pain?" With a straight face, which was really hard thanks to Brian, I said 5. I couldn't say 8 because I was willing to work out with the pain, so I figured that wasn't an 8. They sent me right to a bed, put me in one of those awful gowns, and I waited for Herb to arrive. While I wasn't dying, I apparently scarred Herb our first year of marriage with my Kidney infection when he wasn't able to be at the hospital, so he felt compelled to be there now. And I was glad...who else could make me laugh about such events?

So I waited, a good hour at least, for the doctor to come in and check me out. They had hooked me up to all of these monitors, and of course I had to pee (because I'm me) when there was no nurse to be found. So I unhooked myself, found the restroom, and hooked me back up. This happened twice in my day, which I thought was pretty good for my bladder. When the doctor finally came in, he listened to my lungs and heart, asked me what I ate for dinner last night, and then said he thought it might be acid reflux or my gallbladder. They'd have to do an ultra sound to be sure. This seemingly quelled any concerns I might have had.

Before the ultra sound, my nurse came in a gave me a "shooter", as she called it, of Lidocaine and Mylanta. I was burping pain killer the rest of the day, not a good time! Not to mention that it didn't really work, in fact it kind of increased my pain (although still not an 8!) I was then wheeled off for my ultra sound where the tech was super nice and comforting. She gave me a blanket because of course I was cold, and chatted with me about life. I was quickly wheeled back to the room where I stayed with no action whatsoever for the next 2.5 hours.

Finally I sucked it up and hit the nurse call button (I hate inconveniencing people for minor reasons) and asked if Herb could go get us some food. She went to ask the doctor if I could eat and in he came with my results. (I should've asked for food sooner!) He said I have gallstones and that they treat it the same right now as acid reflux because my gallstones are making it difficult for me to process the acid caused by fatty foods. He said he'd give me a list of foods that cause acid reflux to avoid. This was another point where I had to work hard not to laugh--good ol' Brian would have said "I know this already! It's like if I have a cannonball wound and the doctor says: here's a list of ways to avoid getting a cannonball wound--don't stand directly in front of a cannon. How true that is!" Now I really did need that list because I don't eat a lot of fatty foods in the first place. They didn't manage to give me a list, but they said in general to avoid foods high in fat and added "like peanut butter." It's as if he said to me "and no more happiness!" My little lactose intolerant self eats peanut butter as a go to food every day for lunch. I'm still pondering what will be my replacement food while mourning the loss of my peanut butter.

Before I was discharged my nurse came in and told me that there were three women in their twenties who had come in today with chest pain, all three of them had gallstones, but the other two were whisked to surgery while I was given a discharge slip. What a blessing to not have to have surgery! They said I can live with gallstones for a very long time with no real effect, as long as I eat healthy, and I was thinking that it's a great thing that I have changed my diet so much. If this had happened 5 years ago I may have been the one sent to surgery, but I changed my diet to be more healthy and while it didn't completely spare me, it made a difference.

So now I'm trying to deal with the realities of this. I'm taking acid blockers, but I draw the line at the Percocet prescribed to me. If I'm a five I don't need big pain killers! But really I have to consider the foods that might trigger a worsening of my gallstones. I'll see an internist in a few weeks and he'll help me out I hope. I feel like my diet is so limited already that this just makes me more sad. I will say that lists I found online of foods that tend to bother gallstones are foods that have bothered me for a while now. Foods like eggs, pork and red onion are on the list, so I'm not completely crazy that those bother me AND I've already cut them out of my diet. I guess it's just being mindful, or even more mindful, when I make food decisions outside of my house. I try to be, but I'll be even more diligent in that area.

I am thankful that the least of my worries is diet change rather than surgery I suppose, but ala Brian Regan the doctor is the only time I feel like a little kid again. "You didn't listen to me last time, did you? 'No, no I didn't.' What are you going to do next time? 'Listen when you tell me stuff.' And when are you going to start? 'Right now, right now I'm going to start.'" So I'll try to listen to the stuff my doctor told me, and hopefully next time I won't land myself in the ER. Or if I have to eventually find myself there, may it be bad enough that I have to "say 8!"

Check out Brian Regan's bits on the ER right here:
ER Part I
ER Part II
Doctor's Office