As I was charting on my busy workload tonight, the clock on the computer flipped from 12/22 to 12/23. OMG! I am so not ready for this week. I haven't shopped for food yet and still have some wrapping to do and what with work, felted slippers, pesky kidney stones and CT scans, I haven't had a minute to even think. It's all good though. The stone is gone--completely missing from my CT scan.
There are some things that are important to know before you have medical studies done. For instance, with my CT scan done today, it was important to know what my baseline kidney labs were looking like since they were going to give me IV contrast which can shut sick kidneys down. I've not had a BUN or creatinine level done in a couple of years, so I had no idea what was going on with my kidneys.
On Friday, I had this blood work drawn at the hospital. When I arrived today for my CT scan, I told the check in clerk she needed to pull up those lab results for the CT tech. Well, she didn't. As the tech was sticking me to start my IV, I asked what my creatinine level was. She told me she had no idea and that it didn't matter in an outpatient setting. What? I told her I thought it did matter and until she looked the result up in the computer, we weren't going any further. She said, and I quote, "I've been doing this for 25 years and there has never been a problem with this."
Oh really?
I told her my doc thought it was important to know what that blood work was, which was why she wrote the prescription in the first place.
I know I was snippy about it, but I only have two kidneys and would like to keep them healthy. What this outpatient tech does not know, is what happens to patients after she's done with them. I've seen kidneys shut down from CT contrast. Perhaps she hasn't.
I guess my point, and I do think I have one, is it's important to educate yourself before you consent and submit to procedures. If the doctor wants blood work before any kind of testing, ask why--be your own advocate.
Well, what's done is done. My kidneys, at least lab wise, were healthy before the CT and I've been drowning them in water ever since. I kind of wish I could see the reconstruction CT they did. It's supposed to provide a 3-D view of my innards. The 1,000 images taken today will be reconstructed to look like the photo at the top. How cool is that?
I find it's kind of beautiful, but then I'm a nerd. I would.
The thing about ELO is that once you get a tune in your head, it won't go away until you listen to the song. Over and over. I felt that way about Turn to Stone when I posted it up here with my kidney stone post. Now I feel that way about, "Strange Magic."
Bear with me...
I've been looking on Ravelry at the pattern for French Press Felted Slippers for about 2 months now. Though I'm excessively foolish about the yarn I buy, I'm tight when it comes to buying patterns. I prefer to buy patterns in books since I get more bang for my buck. $20 may buy me 20 patterns. Hello? The slipper pattern was $7 and I was reluctant to buy it until I read the Harlot's post about the slippers she made. Friday, I took the plunge, bought the pattern and the yarn and dove right in. It took about 300 yards or so of Rowan's Cocoon, a merino and mohair blend in a lovely charcoal color called, Mountain. Though the Harlot says it took her only 90 minutes to knit these up, it took me significantly longer. Let's blame it on the Vicodin, shall we? I knit and unknit these slippers more times than I can count.
I make an pathetic stoner.
The hazelnut scarf aside, with my most recent forays into felting (I ruined 300 yards of handspun in an attempt to felt slippers from a cheaper different pattern), I wasn't hopeful for the slippers, but I took the enormous sized knitted product, said a prayer and threw them in the top loader. Having learned that hot water is a huge part of felting success, I'd cranked the hot water heater to the setting, VERY HOT, and let the machine do the work.
After the 4th full agitation cycle, I have the felting magic I was looking for, but the color? Completely threw me! I wasn't expecting the mohair to be the prominent fiber that would take the deep charcoal yarn to a completely different level. Very strange, indeed.
Once again, I'm smitten with felting and have the second pair on my needles. This time, I'm trying Cascade 220, because while I love what the Cocoon did in the wash, my wallet isn't that impressed.
Since this seems the week for finishing up knit goods, here's my last felting success:
Kidsilk Haze bubble scarf sans nuts.
And since I've probably put the tune in your head, here's a little ELO...
This is the view from Mareseatoat's home on the mountain. I'm a little envious and she's thrilled. They bought sleds yesterday to take advantage of Mother Nature's bounty.
They may have to figure out how to get out one of the doors to use them, but they're prepared to try.
Fingers crossed, I had a horrible backache last night, and after 3 hours of that, I caved and took a Vicodin. I feel so much better this morning. Do you think it's too much to ask that I passed that stone?
Since Wednesday, I've known my urine culture was negative. There was no bacteria causing my misery and microscopic blood in my urine, so it had to be something else. Let's see, what disease can I give myself that would be the most complicated and life threatening, or cause me the most disfiguring surgical outcomes?
Because you know that's what I've been doing since it became clear that although I wasn't going to die of sepsis, severe sepsis, shock and multi-organ failure, I was going to suffer and likely from something far worse.
Some of you know I used to work for a huge urology practice. My best friend is still an office manager for this gimongous practice. For the past two days, we've been talking that I definitely need to see someone, but who? I mean I don't want just anybody to see my 52 year old coochie and stick a cystoscope into my nether regions. It had to be someone who could, a. keep their mouth shut and b. not judge how age and menopause have not been kind. Additionally, I told my friend that I was sure that what's going on isn't good and I want no bad news for the holidays. It could keep until January.
The past two nights have been completely miserable. I awaken in the middle of the night feeling, what I'm sure by now is a giant ulcer or tumor deep within my pelvis causing pressure. I wouldn't call it pain, because, well, once you've labored on three separate occasions with children who all had a posterior presentation, you have a pretty high benchmark for what you call pain. It's pressure.
This morning, I couldn't stay away from the bathroom for more than 10 minutes. Bad news and the holidays? I couldn't wait any more. I called my friend who squeezed me in today with one of the female urologists. I called my boss and got the day off to see to this bit of business. I loaded up on water because I was told they'd do an ultrasound, hopped in the car (praying I wouldn't sneeze and there'd be no traffic to delay my ride across town) and headed off to learn the bad news.
Resigned to the fate that I'd be having an office cystoscopy (no pain meds, no anethesia), I tried to prepare myself emotionally. Let me just say, there's no such thing. Now I don't know who dreamed up this particular exam, I can only say that it's, um, uncomfortable at the least and not the way I'd originally planned to spend my day. The exam starts when the doctor injects numbing medicine, and before my urethra has even had an opportunity to get acquainted with the lidocaine, a rather large, flexible tube is inserted hot on the heels of the numbing medicine--yes, that's right--before I'm numb. That's just the beginning, because while my mind is wrapping itself around the fact that tube is way too big for that particular space, the assistant opens up a connected bag of sterile saline solution and upon command of the doctor, Lord help me, squeezes the saline in. I can honestly say, my bladder has never felt so violated or full.
Since I know this doctor well, I felt inexplicably at ease. She chattered the whole time about her kids and mine. I was with her at an investigator's meeting in Montreal when she learned she'd passed her boards and was now a board certified urologist. Out of all 30 docs in that practice, she was my first choice. Still, I wasn't prepared for the oohing and ahhing about how good my bladder looked. I think I heard her say, "gee, things look as good on the inside as they do on the outside." She saw no tumors and no ulcers, but she did see something else: a dilated ureter. My poor kidneys have been trying to pass a stone since last weekend, and there my friends, is the source of my misery.
My prescriptions include a script for a CT scan and blood work, and advice to drink boatloads of water with lemon juice, gatorade and beer. I have a script for Vicodin, which while I told her it's not pain, it's pressure, she just smiled and said, "oh, don't worry, it's going to be pain."
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