And then it all went very wrong

By yesterday late afternoon, I was feeling better. The bleeding had also subsided. I tried getting some work done on the astrology business. I didn’t eat very well yesterday because I didn’t have much of an appetite.

When my man got home around 7:30pm, I hemmed and hawed for half an hour on what to have for dinner.

Finally I settled on waffles and eggs, as it would be something simple. I’d read that eggs are bad for the liver, so I’d vastly reduced my intake of eggs since January upon finding out that my liver enzymes are high. But last night I had two eggs for dinner with two gluten-free waffles, a slice of deli cut ham, and a slice of yogurt cheese. This was around 8:15pm.

I was in good spirits and working on my web business. My man decided around 10:00pm to go to the gym, and left for a bit.

As I was sitting at my computer working, I felt a sudden gush. George had returned. It was around 10:45pm.
I stood up and filled a pad and ran to the bathroom. Sitting on the toilet, I felt suddenly nauseous, and then I could feel the uterine pain ramping up.

I downed 1mg of Dilaudid and went back to the computer room, but it was too late – the pain ramped up that suddenly, and now I was doubtful the Dilaudid would kick in in time, no matter how much I took.

I got down on the floor and tried to do my breathing and acupressure exercises, but the pain was too intense too quickly, and I began to shake. I decided I should put myself in bed, but I was disoriented from the pain, and couldn’t find my heating pad. I opened the door to the bedroom and it was very cold in there. All my energy was expended at that point, so I laid down on the bedroom floor, on my back, and tried to continue the breathing. But it was no use. The pain was SO bad.

I began to cry. And then the crying turned to convulsive sobbing.

I crawled back into the computer room and got my cell phone and fumbled, trying to press the right combination of buttons to reach my man. The phone rang, and then…

I heard a buzzing noise on my man’s desk.

It was his phone.

He’d left it behind.

There was no way I could reach him at that moment. I don’t have the number to the gym and didn’t have the energy to look it up and call him.

So I crawled back to the bedroom and laid on my back on the floor and sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed.

My man came home within 15 minutes of that and rushed to my side when he heard my sobs. I was near hyperventilation at that point. He gave me the time I needed, which took about ten minutes, to get up off the floor and get shoes on. We went out the door and he drove me to the hospital.

The hospital in our town is usually empty.

Last night, there were at least seven people in the waiting room, and I don’t know how many more in back. I wanted to turn around already. I had a bad feeling about going in. I stood up out of the car and filled my pad.

But the last time this level of sudden pain happened, I was told I MUST go to E.R. IMMEDIATELY.
So we went in. I was sobbing at the check-in window and nobody was there for several minutes. When a lady did arrive, she took her time gathering data. Then they told me to go back into the waiting room. As soon as I stood up, I filled my pad again, and this time passed the clot that had caused me so much pain.

I sat down at the nearest chair – back in front of the check-in window. The pain subsided a bit, and I was EXTREMELY tired. I told my man we should probably go back home, that since the episode had passed, there was nothing E.R. could do for me now.

Then the lady behind the glass told us to move so she could talk to other patients. I slowly stood up, annoyed, and gushed into my pad a third time. This time, it overflowed. I decided that since I was still bleeding so badly, I should probably stay. My man led me over to an empty chair in the waiting room, and I slowly sat down. The pain was returning, I told him.

We waited for another 7 or so minutes, and then the check-in nurse told me to come back into the E.R.
I took one look at how far it was to cross the room, and told her I’d no strength to do it.
She fetched a wheelchair and wheeled me back into E.R., where I was given a room with a bathroom and a box of hospital-issue maxi pads that looked like they’d never been updated style-wise or comfort-wise since the 1940’s.

I was given a gown and told to take off my pants and told to report any clots to the doctor. The nurse said she’d get me a cup to do a urine sample.
I went into the bathroom and mustered all the strength I could to take off my shoes and pants. The clot still hadn’t officially come out until I went to the bathroom. What to do with the clot? The doctor needed to know and maybe see it, right? So I didn’t flush.
I put my used fabric pad away into my pocket, put the new unweildy not-wide-enough pad into my underwear, and shuffled back into the room and slowly climbed up onto the gurney.

There, we waited. And waited. And waited.

And waited. And waited.

I kept telling my man I wanted to go home, that the pain was over and the clot had passed, and that I was REALLY tired and wanted to go home. I was also very thirsty but couldn’t find further strength to voice it.

Finally, my man went to the nurse station and told them they’d forgotten to give me a cup for urine sample. They gave him a cup, which he gave to me. I went back into the bathroom and had to navigate the pad that kept wanting to fall out of my pants – no way to secure it in and it didn’t have adhesive bottom or even a button fastener like modern-day pads SHOULD.

I got the urine sample, tried to set the cup down…

and spilled the contents.

I picked up the cup before it all spilled out, and slowly tried to mop the floor as best I could. Ugh. I should have called for help. WTF.

I put the sample cup back into its bag and set it on the countertop.

And we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Just as I was about to leave, a doctor and her assistant came in hurriedly and apologetically and told me they needed to do a pelvic exam and get me started on medication. I told them the pain and bleeding had already passed, they were too late, I wanted to go home.

The doctor insisted on a pelvic exam. I didn’t have enough strength to protest further. My man was ushered out of the room and she told me to take down my underwear and spread eagle. I ordered her to shut the door to the room – I wouldn’t have her do this exam with just a curtain drawn and the open door facing all the rest of the patients in ER, WTF.
She mostly closed the door and proceeded with the exam. I was very tender and whined and moaned. Then she said she’d need to use the speculum. I did my breathing exercises but started to panic – I told her I was already in enough pain and didn’t want that. She tried to insert the speculum but it wouldn’t go without stinging pain. I cried out. She stopped and tried again. I cried out again “IT HURTS!”
She and the nurse assistant told me to hold the nurse assistant’s hand and to breathe. She tried a third time to get the speculum in and again I had stinging searing pain with the forced object.



THE DOCTOR TRIED STIMULATING MY CLITORIS to loosen me up to get the speculum in. I cried out louder and put my legs together and began sobbing, and she stopped.

She told me the bleeding had mostly stopped anyway, so she’d not continue with the exam. I told her the bleeding would come back NOW that she’d forced shit into me.

I sat up and


and the pain started to come back. And I was crying and shaking and pale again.

My man came back into the room and I hugged him around his waist and said, “They hurt me.”
He came down to eye level with me and the look on his face of utter rage and helplessness – that’s when I realised just how wrong it all was, and that were I in better strength and mindset, I’d have kicked those bitches’ asses for what just happened.

So I tried to chin up, gather strength out of nowhere, and get the hell out of there. I told my man I’d had enough and we were going home. It was after 1am at this point.

As I was getting dressed, the doctor’s assistant came back in with several vials for drawing blood, and an IV for administering fluids. I told her NO. She said she’d check with the doctor.
The doctor came back after a few minutes and told me passive-aggressively that she just needed to check my hemoglobin and see if I was anemic and dehydrated so she could see if a transfusion and fluids were necessary.


I lectured her at this point. I wasn’t yelling. I sounded more whiney than anything, but I tried to be stern, and I told her how badly she and the hospital had failed me. I told her exactly what happens when I’m passing a clot, and that the purpose of coming to the hospital is to get injected medication ASAP to HALT THE PAIN, but all they did was dick me around and throw me into a room and let me sit and pass the clot alone in all that pain, when I could have done that on my own at home without the cost of the hospital bill and doctor’s bill.
I told her the pelvic exam HURT and that she should NEVER DO THAT AGAIN.

She started saying “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I swear, I’m sorry…”

But to me, sorry isn’t good enough. WTF did she go to medical school for? Did she LEARN anything? She’s incompetent.

They’re all incompetent.

Nobody can help me.

I signed off on the “release against doctor’s orders” forms and I slowly staggered out of the E.R. with my man at my side. He took me to the drugstore so we could get me some Pedialite for the dehydration – the hospital NEVER ONCE gave me ANY WATER during the THREE HOURS we were there.

I came home and started gushing again – another clot passed. This time, the pain was moderate instead of severe. I took 1mg Dilaudid and went to bed.

I woke up this morning with the most searing headache and jaw ache ever. I think I grinded my teeth all night from the stress, even though I’d gone to bed listening to the relaxation tapes my friend loaned me. The headache was so bad that I began crying first thing in the morning as my man was getting ready for work. He called work and told them he may not come in today. I made an appointment with the local GYN I’ve been seeing (I’ve long since stopped seeing the GYN who did my surgery because after hormonal suppression failed to work, and I had my first episode of collapsing from the pain since surgery, she pretty much gave up on me).

The GYN I wanted to see today wasn’t available, so they assigned me to another and was told to come in at 10am.
Then they called back a few minutes later and told me that GYN had just got called into surgery. So they rebooked me for tomorrow at 3pm.

I took 1mg Dilaudid and my man warmed up my rice heating pad and got me a glass of Pedialite. I put the heating pad over my head and listened to the relaxation tape, and tried to make the pain go away.

When I woke up at 11am, I still had a headache, but it wasn’t as bad.

I’ve spent the last hour and a half typing up this entry, with frequent breaks because of the headache. I’ve had a bowl of cereal and have been sipping more pedialite. My eyes have officially had it from the light and well they’re still all puffy from all the crying last night.

I’m going back to bed. George just started bleeding again, but it seems mild at the moment. I’ve had no further cramps since about 2am.

When I’m strong again, I’m writing a letter to the hospital and refusing to pay any bills they send to me.

3 Responses to “And then it all went very wrong”

  1. Gwen

    I am so SO sorry you went through this. I wish I could give constructive advice or do something helpful. This is just so damn fucked up. My vote, for what its worth, is that you keep an advocate with you at all times. Its damn near impossible to advocate for yourself when you’re in extreme pain. I hate the idea of you alone in that situation and I really would like to explain to the people that “treated” you at great length how wrong they were.

    I dunno – also maybe a kit bag by the door? Probably not helping with scattered advice – just want you to know that I care. Sigh……I hope the pain is less for you now that and that you’re able to relax a bit and recoup your energy.

  2. steph

    And advocate would be awesome – how do I go about this? Badger tried his hardest but he was more ready to get violent on them than actually advocate…poor guy.

    A kit bag is excellent advice. It will contain my medical history. Although we did bring my medical history with us to the E.R. – the doctor read the surgery report but said it wasn’t useful to the current situation. Hmmm.

    Thank you for letting me know you care. I know you that you do but it’s good to see reaffirmed from time to time from my loved ones. :)

  3. Patricia

    Oh my god that is just fucked up! I’ve had shitty experiences in ERs before but this just blows them away. WTF