My wreathing back receives shock waves of heat and torment as I struggle to breathe. Sharp as knifes the pain punches up my esophagus from somewhere deep within my tummy. Beads of sweat excrete from every pore on my body. I can't take this pain anymore!
"HELP", I cry out in pure anguish!
I rip my shirt, exposing my bright red bra and unbutton my pants between the violent tremors. Kyle unrolls all of the windows in our 1997 Nissan Pathfinder LE. I don't care that my husband is screeching down the overpopulated University district, going seventy miles an hour with me half naked...just as long as we get to the emergency room ASAP!
Unrecognizable screams jolt from my craned neck. Am I going to die!? Is this what a heart attack feels like!?
I go through the symptoms, but only a few seem to fit:
Tingly limbs
Profuse perspiration
Chest pain
Stomach discomfort/Nassau
Temperature spikes
Back Pain
Vomiting
I can't think anymore, I have reached my threshold.
The car slams to a halt at the doors of urgent care at Altru.
Without thinking I scramble for the door, I crash land into the registration window, and muster out my allergies.
I collapse in terror...the waiting room is full of wide eyes.
Kyle enters the room and pulls my t-shirt on as a set of nurses pulls me up into a wheelchair. I scream out in agony, DON'T TOUCH ME! HELP! Everything hurts.
The embarrassed desk clerk wheels me behind the counter and begins her usual daily questioning...
Social Security Number? DOB? Any medications you are currently taking? Address? Telephone Number?
For God's sake why do you need my telephone number? I'm right here! She informs me that this is for billing purposes and I want to smash my fist into her crooked nose. WTF!
Too late for inhibitions, I defiantly thrash in my wheelchair and beg for sedation. I scream until my throat numbs and Kyle grabs my face in attention. He has had enough too. With a few choice words...involving chest pain and my sloppy medical history she finally rushes me to my own room.
Before I can blink I am naked under a thin blue gown covered in pokes and jelly.
A bald ultrasound technician massaging my stomach searching for an answer in my gallbladder, ovaries or appendix.
Another fellow got a urine sample and a rather attractive paramedic gave me an IV full of saline and morphine.
Morphine, like a cooling flame flooded my veins. I felt nothing more as in surged through my back, legs, and finally my head.
7pm Same Day.
Dr.Jeffrey Geddes explains that my stomach produced a build up of excess acid, it was burning my intestines, stomach, and esophagus. I force down water and spit the vomit out into the sink of the bathroom. My mouth tastes like copper. Like blood.
Pills rattling in my purse I make it home.
My mother seems hardly enthused as she listens over the receiver. No sympathy here. Not for my pain or my three thousand dollar bill.
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