content warning: hospitals, emergency services, surgery, needles and blood m
Hello Darlings, it’s been a while and I suppose that’s mostly due to life and the nature of existence. I did not in fact die, though it may have been closer than I like to admit here recently.
Today I come to you mere days after my escape from the tender clutches of the US healthcare system! That’s right, lovelies, your Lady Kat was subjected to the not so tender mercies of a not so very local hospital. And of course I wish nothing so much as to share the highlights of the ordeal with you all!
Firstly, what was wrong in the first place! A nasty little infection in my lower left jaw became rather ambitious and chose the holiday weekend to run an absolute muck. Turning my lovely profile into something more worthy of the more heinously curated grotesqueries, I attempted treatments first at an urgent care facility, then at the local emergency room. When introduced to the prescribed antibiotics, one may say the infection laughed heartily at my expense.
The final emergency room visit had a crack team, who immediately began the process of getting me to an appropriate surgeon. While I was less than enthusiastic about this move, the idea of dying and having my face double its usual size was even less appealing, so away I was sent.
Thus began my five days in a hospital, going mental. Because I was transported in the evening, surgery couldn’t be managed until the next day, when I’d had some exposure to iv antibiotics. And exposure I received! Along with pain meds that hit with a remarked similarity to being knocked behind the ear with a sock full of sand.
I was given only clear liquids the first night and nothing at all the following day, as one may react unpleasantly to anesthesia on a full stomach, and so I made it to the OR hangry, tired, pained, and rather less chirpy than my charming usual. I did make the nurses laugh a time or two when expressing my concern for their personal safety walking me to the bathroom.
The entirety of my stay, I can confidently say exactly one nurse, the only male nurse of my stay, could have done Fuck all had I begun to fall. Not because I doubt the women who cared for me, but because not one of them cleared my shoulder. They assigned me the smallest women possible, and one moderate sized man. Though all took exceeding good care of me, and saw to it my meds were administered on time and fully, the idea of them preventing my possible falling is laughable at best.
The only snag came when one of them thought she knew better about my piercing. When one goes under the knife, jewelry must be removed. Permanent jewelry, like my bangle which cannot be removed will be medically taped to try to prevent possible burns should cauterization tools be utilized. My lip ring on the other hand can be removed. I asked the doctors, nurses and the surgeon about when I could replace it. They all advised rinsing it in mouthwash before hand but as soon as I was coordinated enough after surgery was fine.
Well the nurse I woke up to after the surgery had other thoughts, huffing about “reintroducing infection” and “unsightly on such a pretty face” as if she was my mother. Horrid cow of a woman really, I wasn’t my usual eloquent self, so told her I’d just get up soon as she left the room and do it myself if she was going to be obstinate about it. I was less than popular with her after that but the CNA loved me, I take it she wasn’t well liked by them either.
I would love to say the rest of my stay was uneventful, but honestly could that ever happen to me?
I was post op a day before the causes were really explored, samples taken during surgery were sent for testing and the culprit of my misery was moments from discovery, what had caused all this pain?
a tooth
a back molar to be exact. Now blessedly removed, but a tooth nonetheless! And worst of all? A tooth I’d never had a pain from! Not so much as a twinge biting down on something cold. The damn thing had deteriorated without pain and left me a pocket of infection waiting for the right circumstances to reign hell on my life.
But let’s not leave out it’s accomplice, the never ending battle with streptococcus I had this summer? Triggered a revolt in my cheek and jawline, sparking the minor infection beneath the betraying tooth to its full murderous rage.
The cultures took two days to return, and for those days I languished in a hospital bed becoming more and more reminiscent of a well used pincushion. You see, the Iv in my arm wasn’t viable through the surgery, so another was required in my hand, and then that could take the constant meds, so another in the other arm, which promptly gave up to require a fourth. Not to mention the daily bloodwork required to be sure the antibiotics were effectively fighting my current situation. My arms are bruised and punctured my hands worse than my arms.
Finally I was cleared to leave on Sunday, but only after the saddest lunch I could be afforded, the less said about one’s dietary offerings in a hospital, the better.
It was after four o’clock when I tasted free air, and well after dark before I made it home. I won’t wax poetic about my homecoming, only that I was exhausted from both my ordeal and the journey it took to get home. I’d love to tell you I’m improving mightily and shall be returned to my natural vigor and activities any day.
But as I’m not given to heinous lies, I cannot. The medicine I was sent home with is positively vile, my stomach seems to have shrunk during my stay, and I have the energy of a sedated sloth. I’m on soft foods until I’m cleared in the follow up, a fact that brings great levity to my partner and offspring. The antibiotics alone cause dizziness, together pack a punched up vertigo bad enough to make the most steady motion sick. Taking a shower unassisted is a second hospital trip waiting to happen, and washing my hair is tiring enough to require a 45 minute rest period before any further activity may be attempted.
But I’m home, I didn’t miss the holidays with my kids, and day by day my jawline is returning to a more normal shape. When I’m back to myself completely, perhaps we can see what mischief your Lady can scrape up.
Until then do behave darlings!
