Anyway, I got heart burn. Or so I thought it was heart burn. Only the heart burn didn't go away, it got worse. Then I was nauseous for a few days with the heart burn. That too got increasingly worse. Then I had a pain in my stomach that grew into the most excruciating pain EVER and wound up in the ER.
I was admitted in the ER, stripped, had one of those open-back robes put on, followed by being tucked into a gurney bed, IV drip jammed into my arm, and then interviewed by an administrator/nurse person who later informed me they were going to give me an IV morphine injection to "quiet" the immediate excruciating pain in my gut.
I wasn't pregnant. This pain was caused by something else.
The nurse injected morphine into my IV drip, and within minutes I felt absolutely nothing. I never experienced morphine before (why would I?) but suffice to say if this is/was the pre-op surgical drug for big strong highly trained military soldiers, this little Asian girl was feeling no pain. Every muscle in my body was comatose, which was precisely when the good ER doctor decided it was a good time to take x-Rays.
My IV drip was removed, and I was wheeled in my gurney down the ER hall into the x-Ray room, which I'm pretty sure also doubled as a surgical room, dead room, etc. Everything was made of cold hard sanitized steel, the sink, the tables, the chairs, the light fixtures, everything.
Being high on morphine made it impossible to stand up by myself. The tech needed me to stand against the x-Ray machine. First in front of it, and then turn around, so the machine could take pictures both front and back. I was so messed up on morphine, the x-Ray technician and a (I presume an) Orderly, basically teetered me back and forth on my feet until I was upright long enough to snap x-Ray photos. Then I was laid flat on a steel slab while the tech pulled down a giant x-Ray machine from above the table, and snapped more photos of my stomach. Then I was turned over onto my stomach for the tech to take even more photos of my back. When the tech was finished, he and the orderly got me back onto my gurney, and I was once more wheeled down the ER hall into my waiting section, IV drip back in my arm.
Some time later, a lady shows up with a white semi-clear bucket-seat looking thing and says, "We're going to give you a laxative and you need to poop in this bucket."
I'm sorry.
Did you say...
You need me to poop in the whatnow?
"We need you to have a bowel movement in this bucket. We'll give you a laxative and when you're ready to go, place this bucket over the toilet, and go in the bucket. Then leave everything in the bucket, and leave the bucket on the toilet when you're done. We'll collect it."
Geez. Who gets that job?
One GIRL. One bucket.
I had never been high on morphine before. I suddenly reasoned that if I was ever going to be high on morphine, someone was going to ask me to poop in a bucket. And here we are.
A lengthy time had past since being told I would be given a laxative. And then more time past before another person showed up at my gurney bed side with a large envelope in his hands. "We got your x-Ray results back. You have a tear in your stomach lining. A small hole."
An ulcer.
No poop. No bucket.
When I was released from the ER with some medication and painkiller, I was informed/scolded that otherwise healthy people my age should not get ulcers, and that my dietary, consumption and lifestyle habits need to drastically change.
First and foremost...
They wanted me to quit drinking alcohol and caffeine. Well that wasn't going to happen. At that time I had not long ago quit smoking, which was a challenge in itself. Soon instead I gave up hard liquor and cut my caffeine intake in half (in half!) to start.
For those who know me, you know I've changed. Dramatically. I don't like being forced to do anything, but I did this.
I don't smoke anymore. Ok. One cigarette in 2012 on Aramis's deck. I drink a glass of wine or a beer, maybe two, up to five nights a week.
BACK THEN...
I drank caffeine ALL DAY long like a chain smoker, until about 6pm when I then switched to Vodka on the rocks, or tequila shots/margaritas, until after 2am. By 9am I was back on caffeine. Repeat. Repeat. Every day. Every night. Week after month. Year after year.
So yes, having a glass of wine or two, a beer or two, and no more than three cups of caffeine a day, is a HUGE improvement than what it was.
"I drink tea" I tell the doctors back in 2005/2006. "Great." They reply. "What kind of tea?"
Well...
Tea with the blackest highest concentrated caffeine, or what's the point?!
No?
No good?
The doctors want me to drink mint tea, chamomile tea, and green tea. Or what I like to call "ceremonial tea you only drink with peoples' parents because they don't drink booze."
The doctors also told me they didn't want me to eat fried food, no bacon, no sausage, no fried chicken, no fries, no this, no that, etc. which was fine for back then because I only lived on caffeine and alcohol. A few years prior, caffeine, alcohol, and cigarettes. Had I owned a gun, I would have been an ATF wet dream.
So now...
10+ years later...
My lifestyle habits aren't what the doctors would like them to be...
But they have changed dramatically.
And that's why (you know who you are) I didn't go. Last Thursday, I started feeling horribly nauseous.
Though this was more fun to say...
Their only instructions were
"Don't be an asshole." I respect them as people and so devised a fool-proof plan for not being an asshole. I didn't show up. So what's the problem?
Mint tea.
No caffeine.
Oh yes. SO much (not) better.
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