So friday I woke up feeling like I had been punched in the stomach by a heavyweight fighter. Logically, I decided to wait it out.
By later afternoon this pain had evolved into what I can only imagine a knife wound to the gut would feel like. It still somehow took Kayna over 2 hours to convince me to go to the hospital. Remember TIm Roth in the backseat of the car in Reservoir Dogs, after being shot in the stomach? That's pretty much what the whole ride to the hospital looked like, minus the blood.
Luckily they saw me right away, as I stumbled into the emergency room and vomited everywhere and promptly collapsed on the floor. I guess they figured that was impressive enough theatrics to deserve a cut in line. UNfortunately, and unbeknownst to me at the time, the ER can't administer ANY painkillers to you untill they know exactly what the cause of your pain is.. which with something like this, requires a long a dreadfull series of blood tests, CAT scans, UltraSounds, and several other unfortunate probings spanning no shorter than a 12 hour period. The CAT-scan itself was the most horrifying 3 or 4 hours of this, as you're required to drink (and retain inside you!) about a liter of the most discustingly-foul semen-colored radioactive pineapple-flavored isotope-liquid, which would have been hard enough for me to keep in on a good day. I don't know how many gallons of this shit I had to consume before I could keep enough of it in long enough for the procedure.
Natually I prayed for death for most of the night.
a little while after the CAT-scan, a team alarmed looking doctors ran up to me and questioned me frantically for about 20 minutes about how much I drank that night and how many drugs I did. Not that I could form the words to answer them very efficiently, but they got the idea that I was denying any excess binging of any sort, which they obviously didn't believe because of the fact they kept asking me over and over and over hoping for a different answer, but finally, FUCKING GODDAMN FINALLY, they let me go and gave a a shot of demerol. aaaaaahhhhhh, sweet relief. It brought my agony factor down to a heavenly 8.5/10.
"SEVERE Acute Pancreatitis." Apperantly the only other person my age they've seen with such a severe case had come in after snorting an OUNCE of coke that night between 3 half gallons of vodka. No wonder they were fucking suspicious!
But what the fuck?!? I don't even do drugs any more, and I only drink beer! and never to the point of blackout or anything! ANd now these motherfuckers are telling me that if I ever drink again, I could possibly die! PAINfully!
So this has been the last 5 days of my life. I just got out a couple hours ago. WTF, I say. That is all.
By later afternoon this pain had evolved into what I can only imagine a knife wound to the gut would feel like. It still somehow took Kayna over 2 hours to convince me to go to the hospital. Remember TIm Roth in the backseat of the car in Reservoir Dogs, after being shot in the stomach? That's pretty much what the whole ride to the hospital looked like, minus the blood.
Luckily they saw me right away, as I stumbled into the emergency room and vomited everywhere and promptly collapsed on the floor. I guess they figured that was impressive enough theatrics to deserve a cut in line. UNfortunately, and unbeknownst to me at the time, the ER can't administer ANY painkillers to you untill they know exactly what the cause of your pain is.. which with something like this, requires a long a dreadfull series of blood tests, CAT scans, UltraSounds, and several other unfortunate probings spanning no shorter than a 12 hour period. The CAT-scan itself was the most horrifying 3 or 4 hours of this, as you're required to drink (and retain inside you!) about a liter of the most discustingly-foul semen-colored radioactive pineapple-flavored isotope-liquid, which would have been hard enough for me to keep in on a good day. I don't know how many gallons of this shit I had to consume before I could keep enough of it in long enough for the procedure.
Natually I prayed for death for most of the night.
a little while after the CAT-scan, a team alarmed looking doctors ran up to me and questioned me frantically for about 20 minutes about how much I drank that night and how many drugs I did. Not that I could form the words to answer them very efficiently, but they got the idea that I was denying any excess binging of any sort, which they obviously didn't believe because of the fact they kept asking me over and over and over hoping for a different answer, but finally, FUCKING GODDAMN FINALLY, they let me go and gave a a shot of demerol. aaaaaahhhhhh, sweet relief. It brought my agony factor down to a heavenly 8.5/10.
"SEVERE Acute Pancreatitis." Apperantly the only other person my age they've seen with such a severe case had come in after snorting an OUNCE of coke that night between 3 half gallons of vodka. No wonder they were fucking suspicious!
But what the fuck?!? I don't even do drugs any more, and I only drink beer! and never to the point of blackout or anything! ANd now these motherfuckers are telling me that if I ever drink again, I could possibly die! PAINfully!
So this has been the last 5 days of my life. I just got out a couple hours ago. WTF, I say. That is all.
Feel better, hon. Much love.
dude thats a bum rip
my best wishes yo.
and for the record i hope theyre fucking wrong
:\
but seriously best well wishes and ihope you recover soon. geebus sounds painful -shudder cringe-