Nothing new, being hospitalized sucks.

I went in last Friday for a minor(ha ha so I was led to believe) outpatient surgery. Instead of going home Friday afternoon, I was discharged on Monday in much worse shape than I went in.

When they flip the little valve on the line to knock you out everything was way cool. I was expecting the best rest ever. I sort of woke up late Friday and heard them mumble something about keeping me overnight. They hit me with something else and I was out again. That's when the fun began.

Everyone has had horror stories of not being able to use buttonholes in the hospital and the wrong or no medicines prescribed at all. I think everything that could go wrong did, yet again.

I luckily had a printed copy of my med list with Dr's numbers and times and all that. It didn't matter, the on staff Dr changed all of that without even seeing me....because he could. I wasn't able to speak so my arguments were feeble. My GF (who has been awesome through this) stayed as long as she could to be my advocate, but she had the kid's to take care of too. If was a constant battle to get them to give me MY med's. Right from the get go they stopped my basal insulin because "I wasn't eating". I unsuccessfully argued that I still need coverage, but it fell on deaf ears. Every time then they would check by blood sugar it was through the roof. Then they had the nerve to tell me I wasn't managing myself well. Then the schedule they kept was baffling. The times they checked were whenever they got around to it. Every reading was 3-400 and they didn't blink any eye. They also don't know how to use pen needles. If you've ever seen the movie "Pulp Fiction" where they jam the adrenaline needle in Uma Thurman's chest, that's how they did it. I think they felt if they can cram it in hard enough it works better.

Also my BP was at one point 200/103. They kept scolding me as to why it was that high. Never mind that I hadn't had ANY BP med's in over 36 hrs.

It was a constant revolving door of Dr's I had never seen or heard of before. Each one had their own opinions and would each tell me something different. Sometimes the one Dr wouldn't even be out the door when another would walk in. Each also asked the same damn questions. And each one asked whether I was on dialysis MWF or TRS. I would try as best I could to say 5 days a week with Home Hemo. At least 90% had never even heard of it or had no clue as to what it was. I also kept telling them I hadn't dialyzed since Thur and needed it again BUT I also had buttonholes and needed to make sure they could handle it. I might as well have been deer spotting with all the blank stares I got.

They finally decided that I did need to get dialyzed and they were off to rush me there. The whole while I kept asking if they could do buttonholes. No one had any idea what I was talking about. They just all nodded their heads and said of course they have needles. Sigh. I did manage to call my GF and she rushed there with all the supplies needed to cannulate me (she's an angel). Fortunately my nephrologist hadn't left for the night (don't know why she wasn't notified). She managed to scrounge up some blunt needles from somewhere and I guided the nurse on how to cannulate me. But then since my BP was so high the attending Dr had written orders to take of 4L. Their theory was take off as much fluid as necessary till my BP came down. Yikes. I and my GF put our collective feet down and told them no more than 2L otherwise I cramp severely. The look we got! Let's put the Dr's on the machine for a change and see how they feel when taking off too much fluid.

So after dialysis my BP did come down some, but they still decided from a desk somewhere in the hospital that the answer was more dialysis. Like DUH, if I am on BP med's maybe there is a reason why? That never did get fixed till after I got home. Both my BP and blood sugar were way massively high until I got home. and they just kept plodding along.

Then they also decided to stop my immunosuppression. They never did give a reason other than the mythical Dr who I had never met said it would be so. To make even less sense though they did randomly give me my Renvela, like in the middle of the night in order "to protect my kidney". What idiots!

It was all I could do try and convince them that I NEEDED to go home to get batter care. On Sunday the resident surgeon did come in and said that if I could swallow my BP pills then I could go home. He was actually a nice guy. It took till Monday to be able to swallow but I forced them down just so I could get out of there.

Meanwhile on Saturday night they decided that they would try and get some BP pills in me. Why they couldn't do it via IV I know not. So fully awake in massive pain from my "minor" surgery some new Dr who looked like she fit better at a tea party than a hospital tries very unsuccessfully to cram a feeding tube down my nose and recently operated on throat. Maybe it was because of all the screaming and spitting up blood that she decided to stop. But the nurse felt obligated to try too. FAIL. As it turns out I went to have a follow up visit with the surgeon this past Thursday and upon inspection informed me that my voice box was horribly bruised. He suggested it was the anesthesiologist until I informed him about the tube adventure. I have never seen a person so mad. He said no one had contacted him and there was no record that it even happened. I am absolutely sure he was on the phone reaming someone out on Friday. He said that no one touches someone he operates on. Ouch!

So I am home now and it has taken 3 days to get my BS and BP close to normal. I still can't speak well and am still on a ton of pain med. Every day gets better, but I still have a long way to go for my "minor" surgery. It wasn't quite as advertised. The surgeon said it could take up to 2 months for the surgical site to heal and at least for now talking is not much of an option. The titanium screws are just a bonus. I wonder how much I could sell them for?

No matter how prepared you are, by going to the hospital, you take your life in your hands.