A visit to the ER

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There's no faster way to get admitted into an emergency room than to double over in the entryway, throwing up within site of the triage nurse.

We ended the weekend in the ER, Michelle being treated for a migraine. 

I made the decision that we'd go, mid-afternoon and less than two hours after its onset, as soon as the kids were squared away - God help us if Michelle's parents weren't so close.  Early on, we'd just admit that This One wasn't going to get better before she became dangerously dehydrated from throwing up and moving beyond my meager nursing skills.

The pain killer they gave her made her as sick as the headache did, and only smoothed the edges of the pain.  "Oh, we'll try this NEW drug."  Uh-huh.  And knew the side-effects going into it - give a medication with nausea as a known side-effect to a person already throwing up so hard that she's bruised both eyes, her forehead, both cheeks, and the muscles of her shoulders and upper back. 

D-E-M-E-R-O-L, you assholes.  Tried, true.  Demerol and zofran (or phenergan): kill the pain, kill the nausea, break the cycle.  It's not that tough.

The ER doc, a round, jolly old elf, sent her for a CT scan, which, d-u-h, showed nothing.  A person with a history of migraines shows up with a headache, and even though she has full control of her extremities and reactive pupils, you assume she's got a friggin' brain tumor? 

It was a stressful night, and I'm tired today with my dining room half torn apart (that's another post), and I don't feel charitable. 

And the headache may not be gone.  Thankfully, we have prescriptions for both heavy-duty pain killers and nausea meds.  My wife is hurting with something I cannot fix despite my best efforts.  Praying, as much as I'm able.

Comments

[neemauri.livejournal.com]

adding my prayers to yours....