In one of my last posts, I left you, dear reader(s) with this cliffhanger:

About 20 minutes after writing that final paragraph, I called the ambulance and went back to the ER. I was admitted to the hospital that evening, and just returned home last night. Stay tuned.

Tonight, as I lie in bed for the umpteenth day in a row, I’m going to make good on my “stay tuned” promise.

On Sunday morning, after tweaking my back in such a way that rendered me utterly useless, I decided to call the ambulance and head to the hospital. Erin, a new friend of ours, was babysitting Jude (and me), and was kind enough to offer to stay with him until Josh could get home.

I was greeted at the hospital by Super Bitch Nurse #1, who over the course of my stay in the ER told me more than once that she and every other ER nurse was suffering from herniated discs and that they managed to “suck it up and get on with it” everyday.

I met Semi-Asshole Neurosurgen the following afternoon. He was unable to locate the MRI films I brought with me to the ER but assured me that we could just “look at them tomorrow and figure things out from there.” Uhm. No. Sorry I can’t get up and help you look for the films, doc, but I know they’re here, and I’m not waiting another day to get treated. Find them. Now. Kthxbai. Within the hour, he *did* find the films and ordered IV steroids for me…

Enter Super Bitch Nurse #2. While she was prepping me for the steroid injection, she inquired about my films. I told her that the doctor had found them, that they had been put out by nurses’ station. She replied that that was good because the doctor had left her a note to find them, and she “didn’t have time to do that.” Great. The nurse who’s in charge of my care doesn’t have the time to look for the films that are going to enable the doctor to diagnose and treat me. Wonderful. That same nurse laughed at me after I asked her why in the hell my body felt like it was on fire after the steroids were administered because “that’s a common side effect.” And when I asked her why she didn’t warm me, she told me that “every drug has that potential…”

Tuesday morning the physical therapist I had met the night before stopped by to try to help me get up from bed and walk. The first time I got to my feet, I felt light-headed immediately and had to lie back down. When I tried again about thirty minutes later, I was able to stand for about a minute before I got light-headed. Steven, the PT, was really supportive and felt that I would be up and walking by the end of the day if I kept trying. My blood pressure was really, really low (88/50 on Tuesday afternoon), so the light-headedness wasn’t a surprise.

Re-enter Super Bitch Nurse #2 to administer my meds. The PT had just left, so I asked her if she could please come back in about an hour to help me try to stand/walk. At that point I was told that she was very busy, had two other people to attend to, and that she didn’t think she would have time to assist me.

*facepalm*

Luckily, the fucking bitch *did* come back within the hour, and with her, uhm, help, I was able to stand up for about two minutes before needing to lie down again.

Later that night, after Steven came back and helped me get up and walk the halls, I was discharged… but not before I had to threaten a new doctor with signing out AMA if he didn’t simply discharge me. For Christ’s sake, the doctor hadn’t seen me before, didn’t know how much my pain had improved, and didn’t know what kind of progress I had made. After dealing with the nursing staff from hell, there was no way I was spending another night in that shitty hospital. No way in hell.

So, now I’m home. Able to stand, walk, and sit, but only for a few minutes at a time. I’m not able to take care of Jude by myself or take care of my husband, or take care of my house. I’ve been feeling really down, and I’m really looking forward to starting physical therapy on Monday and getting back to normal.