I like to think it all worked out in the end.

Part Duex:

IV plugs can make falling asleep, and staying asleep, very challenging. As do roommates with chronic farts.

My roommate is a dick. I havent spoken a single word to the guy, but he’s a terrible person. He’s so rude to the nurses and it kills me.

Patience level: 5

Needless to say, it took some effort to actually fall asleep last night. Then the regulars come in. Bright and early. Like a drill sergeant. Ready with more blood tests, thermometers, and blood pressure cuffs. This is about 5AM. Also around the time my roommate wakes up and turns on his TV.

From then until around 8ish, I’m on-again, off-again napping, in between more poking and prodding from nurses.

Throughout the day, the doctors and nurses are sending me status reports. With each blood test, my heart enzyme levels get lower. Which is good. Whatever upset my heart is disappearing.

I have high hopes that I’m getting out today. I’m beginning to boil in this place a bit. Crawling out of my skin and really wanting to get back home.

The MRI test results came back with nothing out of the ordinary. My heart is fine. But they want to be SURE everything is fine.

So they order me a CT scan around 7. To look closer at some specific valves, make sure there’s no plaque or clots, to ensure I’m not actually going to have a heart attack. This means no eating until that’s finished.

Patience level: 4

After waiting several hours to get taken down to the room to get the scan done, I finally get taken, only to get told that the scanner I was taken to is older and would not be able to get a clear photo of what the doctor wanted.

So I was ordered to be taken to the ‘New Wing’ that wouldn’t be ready for another three hours. Still can’t eat.

Patience level: 2

More blood tests. More rounds.

More doctor visits and updates. We’re moving past the heart now, we’re pretty sure my heart is fine. Now we are focusing on the virus.

But just to be safe, let’s order me up a sonogram for my heart to make sure it’s REALLY ACTUALLY GOING TO BE OKAY.

But to start poking at the virus, they’re sending me an Infectious Disease doctor to ask some questions and run some tests.

With each doctor visit, I feel the end of this adventure getting further from my grasp and the frustration is becoming overwhelming.

Patience level: 0

It’s around the time to be taken to the CT scan, I see a bed pull up to my room, but they’re taking me to my sonogram.

Sonogram is done. My torso is covered in lube, adhesive, bald spots and sores from having to rip off the sensors constantly.

I’m tired. I stink. I haven’t showered in days. And I’m starving.

The day begins to look up. Instead of being taken back to my room, i go straight to the CT scan.

I get that done and taken care of.

5pm rolls around, I eat my first meal of the day, and Infectious Disease comes in to talk to me. We come to the conclusion that it must have just been a virus that didn’t quite agree with my heart. But I for sure, for certain, did NOT have strep.

She said she saw the results of both the sonogram and the CT, she said they look fine.

But I’m not going home until tomorrow.

I get that this is probably the most efficient way to do things in hospitals like this. I know that all they want is to be sure I’m safe in the most thorough way possible.

But please stop poking and prodding at me and experimenting on me /I just want to go home and shower/. Can we not set up an appointment to do this sometime? Is it absolutely necessary that I stay plugged in here for all of this?

I digress. I’m looking forward to home, a long lush bath, a glass of wine, and my pup. WITH ANY LUCK I will be returning home tomorrow morning. Though that’s what they said yesterday about this morning.

I’m not counting my chickens.

HA UPDATE: They just ordered me a batch of more specific blood tests, and a nasal swab. TO TEST FOR STREP.

I am noping so hard out of this place, I’m all out of patience. I’m out.

Update update: The reason for the constant tests and procedures are all about these elevated heart enzymes, called Troponin. They find those to be very odd someone my age had such elevated levels. The nasal swab, it was clarified, was to eliminate 7-8 other viruses that could have caused this rise

An update! Because I’ve been receiving a lot of questions. Take a seat. Stay a while.

I’m fine. I think.

I got what I thought was strep this weekend. I went to urgent care to get some medications to treat it. They took a Strep test, negative.

They took a Mono test. Negative.

So basically my body didn’t have the decency to catch something that I could help it fight. Sassy bitch.

My doctor prescribed an antibiotic called Clindamicin. Why? I have no idea. It’s not an infection. Antibiotics won’t help it.

But I take it anyway.

My favorite line on the warning label went something like ‘You may develop severe (rarely fatal) diarrhea, vomiting, or stomach problems during your treatment or up to several months after your treatment has ended. Do not to take any medications such as Pepto Bismol in attempt to remedy the symptom’

So, MAYBE. SOMEDAY WITHIN THE NEXT COUPLE MONTHS. I’m going to be visited by the Poop Vomit Fairy out of the fucking blue. And I can’t take anything to help the symptoms. The show must go on. Maybe. Only if it wants to. Between now and however many months ‘several’ is.

I take my first dosage, and I’m immediately struck with the worst case of heartburn I’ve ever had in my life. On top of that, I have this dull, chest pressure. I don’t think much of it.

Fast forward to the next day, the pressure’s getting worse. Turning into pain. Lots of weight, lots of tightness in the middle of my chest. At around 11PM last night, the pain got really concerning.

Being the fabulous me that I am, my mind went right to heart attack. Even if it wasn’t, the pain was more than enough to be pretty concerned. I needed a new antibiotic, and I needed one soon. I drove myself to the ER.

They immediately saw me as soon as I signed in, and immediately started an IV and gave me a BOATLOAD of drugs. A lot of which I don’t remember to be honest. They took some blood tests as well.

They recommended I stick with this Clindamicin antibiotic.

The blood tests revealed that there was some kind of cardiac enzymes surrounding my heart, which they said means one of two things: it’s either remnants of whatever this ‘not-strep’ virus is, or I just had a heart attack.

In order to find out which of the two it is, I needed a catheter. Not the penis kind.

This kind of catheter is inserted into the groin and travels up the artery to the heart itself. But they don’t do that at the hospital that I’m currently in. But Washington Hospital Center does! I text my parents the situation, letting them know I won't be home for a bit, but all is well and I'd see them soon

The next thing I know, I’m waiting in an ambulance after calling my parents back and forth. Telling me to give them just 20 minutes, they’ll be over soon. This is around 530AM, about the time they usually get up for work.

We arrive, at what’s apparently the ‘greatest place for this kind of care.’ Which is actually the most relieving thing, that's not sarcasm

I am admitted.

Meanwhile, this Clindamicin shit is working WONDERS and my throat shit is clearing very rapidly. As I type this, it’s pretty much gone. No more fevers or shakes. Praise.

I get my room, my roommate is this very large man who burps quite a lot and never turns his tv off even when he’s on the phone. Which is always. But I ain’t mad.

Doctors, nurses come and go, poke and prod, draw more blood, run more tests.

But the way they’re talking to me makes it seem like they are pretty certain I’ll be here at least until midnight tonight.

I just finished up my MRI, that was an adventure. It was seriously really fucking relaxing.

We are currently waiting for those results to come back. Once they do, they can determine if we need to proceed with the catheter. I’m hoping and praying the MRI is enough to release me because I really just want to be home.

My heart has been through a lot this year.

It’s been broken.

Anxiety has wrung it’s poor neck.

A trip-went-wrong kept it on the brink of what felt like exploding.

Depression kept me from keeping it healthy.

And now this 'not-strep’ has it fumbling and confused.

I have not been kind to my heart as of late. It's about damn fucking time I start.