I'm getting really sick of this

Damnit, I missed blipping yesterday. D:

Oh well. I was so exhausted after getting home from the hospital yesterday that I didn't spend much time awake. Whenever I woke up I was awake for maybe an hour or two, then I'd pass back out.

So around 2:45am my medium gallbladder attack suddenly became absolute agony with no warning before the jump to agony. It spread like wildfire to my left side and my left side even swelled and bloated.

I've been needing to get my gallbladder out for a long time now, and I'm a high risk for blockage of the bile ducts in the pancreas, which could be fatal. So I wake up B and tell him I think I need to go to the hospital. I try to wait a little longer to see if it gets better, but it doesn't, and I start to get feverish.

Oh shit.

So we hurry off to the hospital, in our truck with it's bad front breaks and a flat back left tire. Just before the hospital, we nearly run over a dead dog at an intersection. B and I both start to loose our cool. Neither of us can handle seeing that. And the dog was wearing a collar. My family has lost animals to being run over in the past (which is why I'm so careful with my own) and many years ago a neighbor's cat jumped in front of B's car and despite trying to avoid it, it was hit and most likely died. (He did the right thing and told the owners that the cat had been hit. It really wasn't his fault, and this cat was known for running in front of cars and its idiotic owners still would put it outside.)

So I get triaged and put in a room much faster than I've ever been before. My nurse comes in, he recognizes me and remembers me as being a hard stick. So he asks if we'd like the guy that does IVs using an ultrasound machine. Many employees have told me that I needed that done, but no one has ever actually done it or sent anyone else in to do it. For years now.

So B and I decide to do it. I need an IV and to try to save some stress and trouble, we think it's a good idea.

Then one of the biggest jackholes I've met in the medical profression (there are bigger jackholes for sure, but this guy still makes the list of the biggest) walks into the room. He basically tells me that he'll be sticking me with a giant needle, deep into my arm. Okay. My veins can't handle large needles. They just can't.

But whatever. This is the first time we've done this with the ultrasound machine, so I let him do his job.

It felt like he stabbed my arm with a pencil. I screamed. I couldn't help it. I screamed and cried and damn did it hurt! I've gone through a lot of super painful things in my life. This is now on the list of the most painful. I've had surgeries that were much less painful in my life.

I told him to pull the needle out because it hurt so bad. He refused. He continued pushing it into my arm. I told him to take it out. He refused. He struck blood. Great. But it's in an extremely painful location. It doesn't matter how much morphine they give me, and extremely painful IV will remain painful, and I'll be in pain for weeks afterward (and with no painkillers given to me to help with the horrible pain while my arm heals).

I told him to pull it out again. He says "we got it" meaning that the stick is now viable to use as an IV. B has also been telling him to take it out at this point, and has gone ignored. At this point he nearly yells and begins taking steps towards this jackhole, demanding it takes the needle out. So jackhole pulls the needle out, guilt trips the hell out of me saying "we got it but you couldn't take it" blaming me for the IV not being successful.

We had warned him that I have fibromyalgia and other nerve conditions. That my nerves and veins are all extremely sensitive. He didn't care and was an insensitive asshole.

He leaves the room, not bothering to clean up the goop from the ultrasound that he left all over me and the bed. Not bothering to swab my bleeding arm with an alcohol wipe, or to even bandage it. B had to do that. B cleaned up the goop from my arm and the bed. B wiped my bleeding arm. B bandaged it and put pressure on it because I bruise very very badly from sticks to my veins and require a great deal of pressure to minimize the bruising.

Luckily when I'd seen the doctor for evaluation, he said I could be stuck in the leg if I couldn't be stuck in the arm. (This doctor, unlike most of the other doctors there, knows that I'm a horrible stick and would rather they get me in the leg than collapse the major veins in my arms.)

So the nurse comes back in. B makes no bones about telling him that jackhole with the ultrasound machine needs to be sent back to sensitivity training and also needs to be educated on what fibromyalgia is and how that effects a person in relation to needle sticks and IVs. The nurse was very apologetic. (He's a nice guy, he never would've sent the guy in if he knew he would've been so insensitive.)

So he ties a tournequet around my leg and sticks me. Blood! Woohoo! As he's taking the vials, my blood stops flowing, so he begins to carefully move the catheter back and forth. The good news is that for the most part, I can't feel it. The reason I prefer being stuck in the leg is because the veins on my legs are mostly intact. They're large, and they're strong. After six years of IV therapy once a month, averaging 4-6 sticks to get a viable IV, scars the hell out of your veins. Not to mention many sticks from many ER visits or bloodwork that I had to have redone because my blood likes to burst in vials while being taken from me.

The veins in my arms are scarred to hell and back. In addition to already being super sensitive to pain and needles.

The veins in my legs, at least the veins on the front of my legs, preferrably my shins, aren't very sensitive to needles at all. Yes, sticking me with a needle in one of them hurts. But I consider it painless compared to what happens when my arms are stuck.

So the doctor on call is the same one that had referred me to that awful surgeon that I still don't want to talk about the details of what happened. Which was a shame, because that surgeon had seemed like a really nice and caring doctor. But God forbid he speak to his own damn patients about concerns instead of giving them the runaround and believing whatever vile lies his staff tells him. (His staff is one of the most worthless, incompetent, vindictive groups of people I've ever run into in the medical community. Some people like screwing up other people's lives. Those people are absolutely that kind of person.) That's as much as I'm currently willing to say about what happened with that surgeon.

Anyways, after explaining that, the doctor apologized, and warned me that I may end up with another referral for him because they can only refer whatever surgeon is currently on call. So I did end up with another referral to him. I had told him if I did I wouldn't be going back because there's no way I could trust him. In fact, I told him that if I needed emergency surgery (we were all worried about bile duct blockage, especially since I was running a fever) that I didn't want that surgeon touching me. I'd rather be transported to a different hospital network (that I don't want to go to anyways) and be operated on there, because I cannot trust that spineless and idiotic man to operate on me.

While getting an ultrasound done on my gallbladder and pancreas (different technition, thank God. If it had been that jackhole again I would've demanded someone else) the technition told me about this one surgeon I should consider using. I told him that I doubted I'd be referred to him. So the technition, once the ultrasound was done, looked up the address and phone number of the surgeon and gave me the information so I could seek him out on my own if I was given another bad referral. I really appreciated that.

So, good news. There was no bile duct blockage. Yet.

I was given a small prescription of painkillers to help me through the worst of it. I appreciate it, but honestly it makes me uncomfortable with the idea of having to explain to other doctors why I'm even on them. I'm so sick and tired of being treated like a drug addict simply because I can't take NSAIDs (allergic to most, and I have internal bleeding that they've still yet to diagnose the cause of and haven't even tried to treat) and because I can't take drugs like lyrica or cymbalta because I'll literally kill myself. (I'm not being dramatic, those drugs make me actively try to end my life. It's beyond my control. They just screw with my head so bad.)

I even had a psychological evaluation done to see if it was safe to go on those drugs. The psychologist told me that it absolutely is not safe until I have gone through extensive abuse trama counseling with an abuse trama specialist.

I'm tired of being made to feel like a damn criminal just because opioids are really my only option for successful pain relief.

Anyways. Apparently there's a huge Tylenol 3 shortage here in El Paso. Lovely. That's the drug I was prescribed. Both by the pain clinic and by the hospital. There was enough at one of the pharmacies to fill the prescription I got from the hospital, but not enough for the prescription from the pain clinic.

So I'm gonna have to tell the pain clinic about the Tylenol 3 shortage and pray they give me something else. (Preferrably vicodin, as I'm sensitive to tramadol and it often gives me heart palpatations.) Knowing my luck, I'll be shit out of luck.

B stayed home from work to take care of me because I felt so bad.

So that's how I spent the first half of my Saturday. The second half was spent sleeping for the most part, then waking up for short periods of time, playing video games for a little while, then going back to sleep.

My first half of today has so far been spent trying to fall asleep but being kept awake and driven insane by B's inhuman snoring.

I love B very much, but his snoring makes me want to put my head through a wall. I don't know how it's even possible for one human to make so much disgusting and unnerving noise while they sleep. It's uncontrollable and it makes it impossible for us to sleep peacefully together unless I'm so drugged and/or exhausted (usually a combination of both) that I can manage to sleep through it. Which is very rare.

So I'm usually forced to lay awake, trying not to be driven to violence by the awful sound, until he wakes up.

If it's not my pain that keeps me awake, it's his snoring. It's even worse when it's a combination of both, which it often is.

Oh, and my arm is still hurting where I was stuck by the jackhole with the ultrasound machine. A lot. It feels like someone stabbed me deep into my arm with a pencil, then broke it off and left it in my arm.

Oh, and the hospital that I went to and that all happened at? Is the best hospital in the city. Yep. That's right. That's what the best medical care in this godforsaken city is like.

I hate it here.

This weekend has been hell already.

I hope everyone is doing well and having a much better weekend than I am.