Peeved when not Perfect

I am not a control freak. I do have a few control freak tendencies, though. For instance, I prefer to drive myself, rather than be a passenger. You have to be an excellent driver for me to be comfortable in your passenger seat. That's just smart, right? I also dislike, no can't stand, no hate being sick (out of control) and having to see a doctor.

So when I go out twice in as many days to seek medical assistance, there is something wrong with me. The big question is what, and I'm not thrilled with being sent home with a "probably" diagnosis. But I'm so much happier than I was when I thought I was going to die that "not thrilled" feels pretty good.

I woke up on Monday with a very swollen nose. It was red and it hurt and I stared at it, in a small bit of horror, thinking that my nose was impersonating Ted Kennedy's (while alive) and wondering why. At the same time, my neck was swollen on the ride side and I had what looked like a spider bite there. I took a hot bath and thought positive thoughts. And I napped a lot, since I was tired.

Yesterday I could barely drag myself out of bed and when I did I discovered that the swelling was under my right eye, too. Possibly because I've needed glasses since the 4th grade, I'm a bit sensitive to anything that affects my eyes. I was too tired to deal with begging the VA for a same day appointment, and definitely too tired to drive to Santa Maria, so I went to an Urgent Care walk-in clinic here in town.

The average person is polite, so I guess that explains the receptionist asking what brought me in. I pointed at my nose, which is twice its normal size. She nodded and told me that I'd need to give her a $200. deposit and if my bill came to less she'd refund the difference.

The nurse who took my vitals asked me what brought me in. Why do they have you fill out those forms?! I'd written it all down, and anyone with normal sight could see my Elephant Man nose! This guy actually said I looked okay to him. I was just too tired to smack him.

Then I saw the clinic's PA. Not a doctor. That was annoying. He had an absurd professional manner. He looked extremely concerned, and asked me questions ("Does it itch? Does it hurt when you chew?) in a way that suggested a wrong answer on my part would land me in isolation. He looked up my nose with one of those black pieces of equipment that have a name I'm completely ignorant of and probably couldn't pronounce (like the blood pressure thingie). He said something like "Oh my" and informed me it was red and infected in there. He guessed I had a bacterial infection and told me the "spider bite" was a nodule that had come up due to the infection being over there, too. He gave me a prescription for antibiotics and told me to come back if I got worse. Total for that sage advice turned out to $130.00. For not even a doctor. My inner frugal beast called my nose several nasty names, but my nose just remained red, swollen and hurting, uncaring about finances.

I went home, I took my first pill, and I laid on the couch like any sick person (except that I brought my bed pillow out so as not to get germs on the nicer, couch pillow). My body started to ache. Then the chills hit me. I took my temperature and found I had a fever. I took it again, obsessively, every fifteen minutes for a while as it rose a couple of tenths of a degree each time. Since eating held absolutely no appeal (thereby ruling out ibuprofen), I took a couple of Tylenol and went to bed.

I didn't sleep much because the swelling kept waking me. I was so tired I just wanted to ignore it, but when I finally got up and looked in the mirror I went into a bit of shock. I took a picture of my nose and eyes in case the swelling went down as I got up and moved around and no one believed me. Problem was, the swelling didn't go down all that much as the day progressed. And I didn't want to go back to the clinic because I had the feeling that the PA didn't know enough and a real doctor was needed.

Still too tired to drive to Santa Maria, I went to the ER in town. When the nurse told me that the PA, David, would be in to see me, I said I'd rather have a doctor. I think David heard me, since he acted offended when he walked in a moment later. Perhaps that explains his lack of thoroughness and the way he purposely tried to scare me. Or maybe he's just incompetent.

I told him how the situation had worsened (and I was getting really tired of people acting as if my nose might actually look like this normally, or that I have huge pouches of skin around my eyes, and having to point out the obvious), and that while my neck was no longer swollen, I'd felt some discomfort in my right armpit -- and isn't there a lymph node there? David reached under the gown they'd had me put on, apologized for his hand coming into contact with my breast (I told him I'd barely felt it, and I meant it) and poked me. At that moment nothing hurt and he didn't feel swelling. He looked down my throat and in my ears but, oddly, not in my nose. The big, honkin', sign me up to fill in for Rudolph on Christmas sleigh duty nose. Didn't look in it.

He did, however, tell me that they'd run some tests. I'd give a urine sample and they'd take blood and they'd see if they could rule out -- are you ready for this? -- kidney failure or lymphoma. For that bit of ridiculous overkill he was punished by having to watch me cry. As if my nose wasn't red enough already. He made me feel like I was being hysterical (I don't cry that way), and kind of said I should've gone to my primary physician. I told him my primary was the VA and asked if he had time to drive me to Santa Maria.

I was left alone. Then a blood-letter came in and took several vials. The nurse provided me with a cup and pointed to the bathroom. Then I waited (not in the bathroom, but back on the gurney). A woman came in whose job it was to make me sign papers and warn me that this was going to be expensive. She smiled too much. She called me "dear." Once. After my eyes went into full slit mode (not far to go), she didn't do that again.

Then the curtain was pulled back and a doctor came in. Dr. West (not his real name) must've heard that I wanted to see someone with a level of education and training above PA. But I guess he never considered that I wanted it because I was scared and alone. Because he made matters much worse. He felt my neck, and my armpits (hmmm, he managed to do it without touching my breasts), and he looked in my nose. He reacted strongly to what he saw in there. I think he said something like, "Whoa!" He told me it was red and angry and obviously infected in there, and went on to explain how you can get a nose hair that becomes ingrown and causes it. But he kept staring at my eyes. Or, rather, the swelling around my eyes.

He told me that swelling of the eyes is one of the first symptoms of nephrotic syndrome. I laid/sat there (more like lounged, except that implies comfort) on the gurney and coughed to ward off more crying. It works. He talked about kidney failure, and sodium, and how protein comes out in your urine so they'd know from the tests, and mentioned the names of two nephrologists in Santa Maria with rhyming names who were related to each other in some way though he wasn't sure how. Obviously my brain had gone into panic and I was remembering the important details.

I did manage to ask if there might be some other, more innocuous reason for the swelling. He said I might have conjunctivitis in both eyes. But I've had that, and I knew this wasn't that. He said that they could also be swollen simply because of the infection inside my nose. WHY HADN'T HE STARTED WITH THAT OPTION??? I felt like I was being punished for asking for a doctor, or not having normal insurance. As if I should be a good little patient and take what I'm offered without speaking up. But then I tend to personalize things.

He left and I sent a text to my friend, Lola (not her real name), who'd texted me to ask how I was doing. I passed along the worst case scenario, but then had to stop because David came back in. The test results were back and all looked good. Seriously. Maybe five minutes had passed. The doctor had struck terror in my heart when, if he'd waited five more minutes, I wouldn't have been put through it.

David, who had either realized he'd missed it or had been told he'd missed it, wanted to look in my nose. He had an "Oh, jeez" type of reaction, too. He said that the infection was likely causing all my other symptoms, including the eye swelling. Likely because they just don't know for sure. But the only thing that was off in my results was my creatine level. It was a little high, indicating inflammation somewhere in my body. And the vagueness just keeps comin'.

He prescribed a topical ointment for my nose, and said that and the antibiotics should cure me. Come back if I'm worse.

I texted Lola, whom I'd left hanging.

"Labs came back okay. No kidney failure, just a creative level that shows inflammation somewhere in my body."

Lola: "I always knew you were creative."

"CreatiNe"

"Damn autocorrect."

Lola: "Does it hurt to laugh?"

"Shut up."

"I'm getting topical for my nose and a huge bill and will be lea bing."

"Leaving!"

Lola: "Call me when you can."

"Okay, clearly I can't type."

It did make me laugh. But the interaction with her, and the subsequent phone call where she reassured me that I wasn't being hysterical or overreacting, made me so sad about being alone.

The woman who had made me sign papers had asked who my next of kin is. I didn't know what to say. I don't have parents anymore. I don't have kids. I don't have a husband. I picked an aunt. I have friends. I know a lot of people who care whether I live or die and who are a treasured part of my life. But they don't live here. My family and friends are far flung. I don't have someone to go to the ER with me and make me feel better just by being there. Or, for that matter, to drive me to the VA so that I don't end up paying God knows what. They didn't give me the bill today. That they mail it must mean they don't want to deal with the screaming and crying.

I like where I live. But I don't have a normal life. I'm here for a couple of weeks then up north for a couple, usually, with changes to that schedule as circumstances dictate. I can't get involved with any regular activity here, or take a class, because I'm not always here. Same thing when I work. I know it takes effort to make new friends when you're an adult, but I feel handicapped to begin with. And no, Panther, if you're reading this, I'm not moving to L.A.. I'll never be an L.A. sort of gal.

Being alone just sucks. Being alone in a hospital ER sucks even more. All fears are amplified when there's no one there to say, "P'shaw! He's just talking about nephrotic syndrome because he's a doctor and bored and wishes he had something interesting to diagnose." I know I would've felt better because of what happened as David the PA and the nurse questioned me. I am sure I turned my phone to vibrate only when I went to the ER. It acknowledges my doing so by displaying a little "vibrate only" icon. But when a friend called me, not knowing where I was but knowing I was feeling sick and wanting to check on me, my phone rang. It rang softly, but I heard the ring tone and knew who it was. And I swear I could feel my blood pressure go down just a little. I apologized for the call, assuring them I'd intended to silence the phone, and when they left me alone I took the phone from my purse to see what I'd actually set it on.

It was set to vibrate only. And I had a voicemail that I hadn't heard a tone to announce since it was on vibrate. Why did it ring when it very clearly shouldn't have rung? Because it's that important not to be all alone, especially when you're scared, and sometimes the universe gives me gifts like that.

But I am really going to have to start dating, if I can find a guy who'll put up with my schedule, because being alone sucks.

I'm going to have to wait till I have my normal nose back, of course.