Okay, I'm weird. I admit it. Those of you who know me well (and really, who the hell would be reading this is they didn't?) will know that sometimes odd things catch my eye (especially since I've been blogging consistently), or tickle my sense of humor. So it will not surprise you (probably) to see what stopped me cold upon my recent visit to the E.R.
Yes, once again, I developed a 100.9 degree fever, thus earning me a trip to the Urgent Care Center to get my blood counts tested. I was hoping to avoid it, especially since my temperature hovered around 100.2 - 100.4 for a few hours on Tuesday, but once it spiked at 100.9 I couldn't in good conscience avoid calling my new oncology team, since there is, after all, a very valid reason for them to order me off to the ER when I have a high temperature and fever and chills. (Oh, I also had tingling hands -- a not unknown side effect of CMF apparently -- and nausea. Yay. Not.)
Yep, I staggered out of the office on Tuesday afternoon, right before lunch (my coworker Julia wisely pointed out that I should leave while I felt ill but before I felt incapacitated) and came home and huddled under the comforter. It seems a consistent pattern that I fall prey to this fever thing each cycle somewhere on the 10th - 15th day. Joy. So if I periodically fall off the face of the planet -- no reply to cellphone, e-mail, no blogging, etc. -- you can be pretty sure I am laid up or too wiped out to deal with the electronic world.
My poor sweetie felt horribly guilty because he did not get my message that I was heading off to the hospital until he was already home across the river in NJ (ah, wireless communication -- it only works ABOVEground). Luckily, I was able to draft my friend Marci into waiting at the ER with me, and boy was it a long wait that night.
The actual blood tests and staging into the triage area (the place where you wait for the doctors, after you leave the reception area) went relatively quickly (in an hour!) but then the triage stage took almost 5 hours.
Why so long you ask? Well, I was unlucky enough to hit the shift change and then I needed to wait for X-rays (they wanted to make sure my occasional abdominal pains and fever did not have some visible cause). But while we were waiting -- Marci working away on her netbook (absolving me of some guilt) and me, dozing/passed out on the gurney with an IV drip -- we were both amazed by this ingenious contraption in my room.
During flu season, they are apparently overrun in the ER (not surprisingly) and I lucked out with this isolation room... with a super funky convertible loo! I made poor Marci take photos so that I could share my amusement (and our joint amazement) at this jump seat / toilet. (The little flap door held the TP, which you can just see peeking around the edge.) As a native Manhattanite, even I was impressed by the clever use of space here: dual functionality -- the WC and extra seating! -- with a curtain for a modicum of privacy even.
By 11pm, I was finally dressed and out of the ER, and our cab dropped Marci off at home and then me, after which I proceeded to sleep for 12 hours (did not go to work on Wednesday -- again [*sigh*]), get up, have some cereal, and then nap for another 2 hours.
My cabbies to and from the hospital were both very nice and/or amusing. (When I am feeling this knackered, I spring for cabs to and from the hospital instead of battling with the MTA.) My engineer pointed out that most NYC cabbies have quite the interesting stories and/or personality, which is pretty true. (He came over for dinner last night [ain't delivery grand?] and some quiet time catching up [yay!] proving once again, that he has been swell throughout this endless process.)
The cabbie to the hospital was very friendly and sweet. Upon hearing that I had boob cancer (he asked why in particular I was going to the cancer hospital) he said that was very upsetting, which surprised me -- after all, he didn't even know my name. But he explained that the idea was very distressing to anyone who has a mother, sister, wife, or daughter. I was touched.
He also asked the inevitable "where are you [is your family] from?" questions and I found out that he was Senegalese, whereupon I asked him which of the Senegalese restaurants he recommended in my neighborhood. (For the record, he promptly suggested Africa Kine which I intend to try out with my sweetie once my stomach is happier with life -- of course, this may be in August!)
My cabbie home from the hospital started discussing real estate with me when he discovered where I lived. (He owns a co-op in Jackson Heights, Queens and was displeased with the high maintenance/common charges. Heh.)
Come to think of it, the other night coming home late from my engineer's place [his apartment is still in the midst of gut renovation hell...yikes], I had a poor guy who had JUST started working as a NYC taxi driver. I was his third passenger! I knew he had to be a novice because he did not know where my building was...and I live on a numbered street! He was very grateful for my patient instructions.
Okay, my alarm has gone off (and the jackhammers outside my building have started), so that tells me it's time to go get ready for work. Ciao!
Yes, once again, I developed a 100.9 degree fever, thus earning me a trip to the Urgent Care Center to get my blood counts tested. I was hoping to avoid it, especially since my temperature hovered around 100.2 - 100.4 for a few hours on Tuesday, but once it spiked at 100.9 I couldn't in good conscience avoid calling my new oncology team, since there is, after all, a very valid reason for them to order me off to the ER when I have a high temperature and fever and chills. (Oh, I also had tingling hands -- a not unknown side effect of CMF apparently -- and nausea. Yay. Not.)
Yep, I staggered out of the office on Tuesday afternoon, right before lunch (my coworker Julia wisely pointed out that I should leave while I felt ill but before I felt incapacitated) and came home and huddled under the comforter. It seems a consistent pattern that I fall prey to this fever thing each cycle somewhere on the 10th - 15th day. Joy. So if I periodically fall off the face of the planet -- no reply to cellphone, e-mail, no blogging, etc. -- you can be pretty sure I am laid up or too wiped out to deal with the electronic world.
My poor sweetie felt horribly guilty because he did not get my message that I was heading off to the hospital until he was already home across the river in NJ (ah, wireless communication -- it only works ABOVEground). Luckily, I was able to draft my friend Marci into waiting at the ER with me, and boy was it a long wait that night.
The actual blood tests and staging into the triage area (the place where you wait for the doctors, after you leave the reception area) went relatively quickly (in an hour!) but then the triage stage took almost 5 hours.
Why so long you ask? Well, I was unlucky enough to hit the shift change and then I needed to wait for X-rays (they wanted to make sure my occasional abdominal pains and fever did not have some visible cause). But while we were waiting -- Marci working away on her netbook (absolving me of some guilt) and me, dozing/passed out on the gurney with an IV drip -- we were both amazed by this ingenious contraption in my room.
During flu season, they are apparently overrun in the ER (not surprisingly) and I lucked out with this isolation room... with a super funky convertible loo! I made poor Marci take photos so that I could share my amusement (and our joint amazement) at this jump seat / toilet. (The little flap door held the TP, which you can just see peeking around the edge.) As a native Manhattanite, even I was impressed by the clever use of space here: dual functionality -- the WC and extra seating! -- with a curtain for a modicum of privacy even.
By 11pm, I was finally dressed and out of the ER, and our cab dropped Marci off at home and then me, after which I proceeded to sleep for 12 hours (did not go to work on Wednesday -- again [*sigh*]), get up, have some cereal, and then nap for another 2 hours.
My cabbies to and from the hospital were both very nice and/or amusing. (When I am feeling this knackered, I spring for cabs to and from the hospital instead of battling with the MTA.) My engineer pointed out that most NYC cabbies have quite the interesting stories and/or personality, which is pretty true. (He came over for dinner last night [ain't delivery grand?] and some quiet time catching up [yay!] proving once again, that he has been swell throughout this endless process.)
The cabbie to the hospital was very friendly and sweet. Upon hearing that I had boob cancer (he asked why in particular I was going to the cancer hospital) he said that was very upsetting, which surprised me -- after all, he didn't even know my name. But he explained that the idea was very distressing to anyone who has a mother, sister, wife, or daughter. I was touched.
He also asked the inevitable "where are you [is your family] from?" questions and I found out that he was Senegalese, whereupon I asked him which of the Senegalese restaurants he recommended in my neighborhood. (For the record, he promptly suggested Africa Kine which I intend to try out with my sweetie once my stomach is happier with life -- of course, this may be in August!)
My cabbie home from the hospital started discussing real estate with me when he discovered where I lived. (He owns a co-op in Jackson Heights, Queens and was displeased with the high maintenance/common charges. Heh.)
Come to think of it, the other night coming home late from my engineer's place [his apartment is still in the midst of gut renovation hell...yikes], I had a poor guy who had JUST started working as a NYC taxi driver. I was his third passenger! I knew he had to be a novice because he did not know where my building was...and I live on a numbered street! He was very grateful for my patient instructions.
Okay, my alarm has gone off (and the jackhammers outside my building have started), so that tells me it's time to go get ready for work. Ciao!
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