aaa I should have known better than to think that one could work daily on the Peds ID service without actually getting sick. Sunday night I had this dream that I was 5 months pregnant. Wait, but there's more. I dreamed that I had known about the pregnancy for a while, but somehow kind of forgot about it, so I hadn't been getting any prenatal care or anything like that. And then, suddenly, I remembered when I started to feel the baby moving. "Oh crap," I thought to myself, remembering all the caffeinated beverages that I'd been imbibing, and all the multivitamins that I'd not been taking over the past few months. "I wasn't even taking folic acid supplements before I got pregnant!" Typical med student anxiety. Also, the baby was apparently some incredibly strong monster baby, because it was pushing my stomach all the way out with every move of its limbs, like my abdominal wall was made of some sort of stretchy polymer. And it kinda hurt. Oh, and for some reason, it was gestating up in my epigastrium, instead of in my pelvis like a normal baby. And somehow mixed up in all of this was a dream subplot wherein I had a final exam coming up for a computer-based statistics class I'd been cutting all semester, and which I hadn't studied for at all. I woke up yesterday morning with a bad stomachache. When I tried to stand up, I was dizzy and reeling with nausea. In retrospect, I realize that it was probably a viral illness passing on through, but at the time, honestly, I thought I was dying. Actually, what I really thought I had was a triple-A. An AAA, for those unfamiliar, is an abdominal aortic aneurysm. It's the condition Jonathan Larson, composer of the Broadway musical "Rent" died of, after showing up to his local ER not once, but twice in the weeks leading up to his untimely demise, complaining of stomach pain. They sent him home with the erroneous diagnosis (though probably more plausible, given that he was only 35 years old) of gastroenteritis. And then he died at home when his aneurysm ruptured. I WAS DYING. Seriously, my stomach really hurt. And my back. And I was nauseated and dizzy and the whole bit. When I lay back on my bed, I could feel my aorta pulsating through my abdomen. I know that I can usually feel my aorta through my abdomen--in fact, I can usually even see it pulsating--but the pulsating mass (if you will) seemed bigger this time, with a wider diameter. I had a triple-A and I needed my aorta cross-clamped NOW. Joe said, "You don't have a triple-A." I scowled that I might, and wouldn't he be sorry when I DIED later on today, just like Jonathan Larson, because no one believed that there was something seriously wrong with me. Then, I hobbled over to my white coat, pulled out my stethecope, and then collapsed back into bed with the bell pressed to my epigastrium, listening for bruits. Joe said again, "You don't have a triple-A. You can feel your aorta pulsing through your abdomen because you're thin. Here. I brought some Pepto-Bismol up for you." And he made me drink this foul generic CVS-brand Pepto-Bismol (I have nothing against the generics, by the way...unless I'm taking them myself), which tasted AWFUL and just made me want to puke more. So then I started self-medicating. Well, I figured, Benadryl is in the same family of drugs as Dramamine, so maybe it'll have the same anti-emetic effect. I took two Benadryl. Ditto pukiness. But after a while...so, so sleepy, which was actually not such a bad therapeutic endpoint. I slept for a few hours. When I woke up, the stomachache and nausea were mostly gone, replaced by a general malaise and those good old-fashioned myalgias that I had come to know from my numerous bouts of viral illness. This was no triple-A, this was a virus! A virus, I say! There would be no rupture of my aorta today! I would have jumped up and down for joy, if I were capable of moving. Joe brought up get-well flowers and tea, and we celebrated my near-escape from death's door. Then I slept for another eight hours and woke up this morning feeling almost 100% better. xo Michelle |
Tuesday . August 27 . 2002 . 6:05pm |
aaa I should have known better than to think that one could work daily on the Peds ID service without actually getting sick. Sunday night I had this dream that I was 5 months pregnant. Wait, but there's more. I dreamed that I had known about the pregnancy for a while, but somehow kind of forgot about it, so I hadn't been getting any prenatal care or anything like that. And then, suddenly, I remembered when I started to feel the baby moving. "Oh crap," I thought to myself, remembering all the caffeinated beverages that I'd been imbibing, and all the multivitamins that I'd not been taking over the past few months. "I wasn't even taking folic acid supplements before I got pregnant!" Typical med student anxiety. Also, the baby was apparently some incredibly strong monster baby, because it was pushing my stomach all the way out with every move of its limbs, like my abdominal wall was made of some sort of stretchy polymer. And it kinda hurt. Oh, and for some reason, it was gestating up in my epigastrium, instead of in my pelvis like a normal baby. And somehow mixed up in all of this was a dream subplot wherein I had a final exam coming up for a computer-based statistics class I'd been cutting all semester, and which I hadn't studied for at all. I woke up yesterday morning with a bad stomachache. When I tried to stand up, I was dizzy and reeling with nausea. In retrospect, I realize that it was probably a viral illness passing on through, but at the time, honestly, I thought I was dying. Actually, what I really thought I had was a triple-A. An AAA, for those unfamiliar, is an abdominal aortic aneurysm. It's the condition Jonathan Larson, composer of the Broadway musical "Rent" died of, after showing up to his local ER not once, but twice in the weeks leading up to his untimely demise, complaining of stomach pain. They sent him home with the erroneous diagnosis (though probably more plausible, given that he was only 35 years old) of gastroenteritis. And then he died at home when his aneurysm ruptured. I WAS DYING. Seriously, my stomach really hurt. And my back. And I was nauseated and dizzy and the whole bit. When I lay back on my bed, I could feel my aorta pulsating through my abdomen. I know that I can usually feel my aorta through my abdomen--in fact, I can usually even see it pulsating--but the pulsating mass (if you will) seemed bigger this time, with a wider diameter. I had a triple-A and I needed my aorta cross-clamped NOW. Joe said, "You don't have a triple-A." I scowled that I might, and wouldn't he be sorry when I DIED later on today, just like Jonathan Larson, because no one believed that there was something seriously wrong with me. Then, I hobbled over to my white coat, pulled out my stethecope, and then collapsed back into bed with the bell pressed to my epigastrium, listening for bruits. Joe said again, "You don't have a triple-A. You can feel your aorta pulsing through your abdomen because you're thin. Here. I brought some Pepto-Bismol up for you." And he made me drink this foul generic CVS-brand Pepto-Bismol (I have nothing against the generics, by the way...unless I'm taking them myself), which tasted AWFUL and just made me want to puke more. So then I started self-medicating. Well, I figured, Benadryl is in the same family of drugs as Dramamine, so maybe it'll have the same anti-emetic effect. I took two Benadryl. Ditto pukiness. But after a while...so, so sleepy, which was actually not such a bad therapeutic endpoint. I slept for a few hours. When I woke up, the stomachache and nausea were mostly gone, replaced by a general malaise and those good old-fashioned myalgias that I had come to know from my numerous bouts of viral illness. This was no triple-A, this was a virus! A virus, I say! There would be no rupture of my aorta today! I would have jumped up and down for joy, if I were capable of moving. Joe brought up get-well flowers and tea, and we celebrated my near-escape from death's door. Then I slept for another eight hours and woke up this morning feeling almost 100% better. xo Michelle |
