PeaceLove&Justice

Let this be a cautionary tale to all the ladies out there who don't see the need to have checkups regularly. I am by no means telling what you should or shouldn't do, but I hope if there is something to take away from this, is to value your body and give it the respect and care it needs to keep healthy. 

All this started back in 2016 when at work, I suddenly became violently ill and had extreme lower left abdomen pain. I drove myself home and continued to roll around the floor just outside the bathroom in case I needed to throw up again. I have a history of painful periods, so I thought this was just a very bad PMS episode. After withstanding the pain for a couple of hours, I decided to go to the ER, by the time I got there the pain had subsided some, but every time I got up or walked, it got worse.

The intake nurse took my vitals and asked what my pain level was on a scale from 1-10, I said 8 and I were moved back to the waiting room, without even a painkiller. Now, I have an immense pain threshold, so I didn't look like I was struggling. After about an hour, they called me back in so I could be seen by a doctor. I explained my symptoms to her and she looked visibly concerned, she went on to check my belly, ordered an ultrasound and back to the waiting room I went. Again, no pain killers. I never saw the same doc again.  

I had my ultrasound done and it was so painful, I was shaking as the nurse scanned the area where it hurt and told me she couldn't see anything, she then proceeded to ask “why are you overreacting like this?”. I was appalled!. After almost 9 hours in the ER and shift changes, they finally call me in, I get some Tylenol and they let me stay in a little room with other ladies awaiting their results. 3 more hours pass until finally get an answer, they dismiss it as being PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome) prescribe some Metformin, which ‘should’ help and some more Tylenol for the pain. I get discharged. I thought I was safe.

A week later, the same thing happens, I feel horribly sick, I'm throwing up and rolling around in pain again. I show up in the ER extremely concerned, I get dismissed as being an opioid addict and attention seeker, because “records show they already checked me an found nothing, plus, you have to give the pills time to take effect”. I spend another full day in the ER at a teaching hospital, where I have student after student check me and try to figure out which diagnosis best fits me. It was frustrating, to say the least! I get sent home with stronger painkillers and a diagnosis of depression. I couldn't believe it!

A month goes by, nothing happens, I finish my treatment thinking it had worked, I was beyond happy. When again, very suddenly the same pain, in the same area with the same symptoms come back with a vengeance!. This time I at least make it to the acute wing, where the nurse in charge orders an MRI test. I finally get told, that I have PCOS but nothing can be done surgically as there is no risk of complications. Then he asks me “Will you leave if I write your discharge papers?”, I say no, I need to leave with an answer, this pain is killing me and I'm missing work because of it. I should have kept my mouth shut because he thought I was there just as an excuse to not go to work!. I'm dying in pain here, this is NOT made up, open me up and check me!, I was extremely frustrated, as I get sent home with a note to excuse my absence from work.

Over the next few months, I have follow up after follow up with the OBGYN and the Gastrointestinologist and nothing is figured out, again I am a guinea pig for all the students. I get sent home with no answers, because ‘the pain I'm in is not indicative of the symptoms you are showing’. My emergency medical expires and I don't qualify for the regular medical because I earn too much. I fall into a medical limbo, where I cant neither qualify for Obamacare or Medical, so I let it go. I don't get the pain again and I am grateful to be healthy for the following couple of years.

Fast forward to June 19, 2019. I have moved back home to L.A and I'm happily dropping off my sister at school when BOOM, it hits me again, very suddenly. This time I can't even walk from the pain and I'm throwing up every liter of water I have in my body, the pain is well above a 10. I try to compose myself to drive home, but I am in such pain and so weak, I have to call my parents for help. As I wait in the car, I take some Tylenol. They arrive and are immediately worried at how sick and pale I look, as we drive home, every bump in the road makes me wail in pain. Dad suggests I go to the ER, I am apprehensive because of what happened last time. Because the pain had gone away the last time, I thought I could do away with some Advil, to reduce the fever also. Maybe the doctors were right, maybe this was bad PMS again. 

I get home, drag myself up the stairs and promptly sprint to the bathroom to throw up, parents leave for work and I try to take more painkillers because the pain won't stop. I throw those up to, I am getting more dehydrated, I start feeling clammy and look paler as the time passes. Over the course of 4 hours, the pain just keeps on getting worse, at this point, I can't even keep down water. I call my cousin for help and she drives me to the ER, this time to a different hospital of her suggestion, Valley Presbyterian. During the drive, I kept running different scenarios in my head, thinking about how I was going to convince the doctors that this time, the pain is serious. I needed them to listen, I needed answers. 

We arrive in the ER at noon, thank god is relatively empty. I get checked right away by the intake nurse, everything is elevated and I am told to come inside immediately. I tell the transport nurse that it is extremely painful to walk, can I please get a wheelchair and he scoffs and says “The room is right across that door”. Great, here we go again. I insist, my cousin insists and we get a wheelchair. A nurse comes in promptly to check me, I explain my symptoms, explain what happened in 2016, she proceeds to check my abdomen and I wince as soon as she touches me. She is visibly concerned as she notes that my stomach is very swollen as well. She says she will get a doctor.

The doctor comes in, asks me the same questions, checks me the same and I am given a bed as they run more tests. I am in the ER, inside and have a bed. I think, Victory! I am given IV fluids because I am extremely dehydrated and also IV painkillers, which they thought would help. They didn't, an hour passes by and my cousin is worried as I am visibly getting worse, I can't hold it anymore, I feel like someone is repeatedly stabbing and twisting my insides with a hot sword. I begin to cry. I tell my cousin to get the nurse, they ignore us for another 30 minutes, I ask for more painkillers, again ignored. An hour and a half pass, I am about to burst, my cousin tells me to just let it out, to wail and scream if I have to. 

I do, I can't hold it anymore, I am sobbing and screaming in pain. The doctor pokes her head out of her office at that same time, my parents return, she is told my family is here and promptly says “Oh I was waiting for her family to show up before we moved her.”. I am 31 years old, she needed to inform no one. I realize they were going to keep me in that bed until the pain went away, I worry that the next nurse or doctor will be dismissive as well. I ready for battle, despite being barely able to speak at this point. I am so weak, I can't even walk, they decide to move my bed to the acute unit. Once there, I finally meet my savior. 

I've been in the hospital for 4 hours now, they give me stronger painkillers, I am so thirsty but am unable to drink water as one of the nurses says “She might go for surgery, we need her to fast.”. At this point my mother is with me, holding my hand and I break down, the painkillers aren't working, I go into shock and repeatedly say ‘Please help me, it hurts’ for what seems like hours. I am deteriorating. The attending nurse comes in and is visibly concerned, he stays by my door as I continue downhills, he orders ultrasounds and Xrays. Here we go again.

I am taken to the ultrasound room, I am crying as the pain of the machine is unbearable, I begin to shake, the technician freaks out. Her superior comes in and does the test himself, pressing way too hard. I can't stand the pain and then he says the magic words “What is this? there a big mass on her left ovary”.I am relieved, finally an answer!, little did I know the seriousness and extent of the issue. I go back to my awesome nurse, he says they need a clearer image of what's going on, at this point, I'm so high, I hardly process what he is saying. He orders an MRI.

After 2-3 hours, I finally get wheeled out to the MRI, I have had so many different bags of painkillers IV, the pain dulls. Cue MRI, the pain soars to new heights again due to the heat the rays. I am back in my room, blood work comes back, I am in Diabetic Ketoacidosis, I'm immediately put in insulin and am so unstable at this point that the nurse request I am moved to the ICU to await the results of the MRI and keep my blood sugars under control. Everything is a whirlwind at this point, it's almost 2am, I haven't slept or eaten but the pain is somewhat controlled and for that I am grateful.