My last post left off with us arriving at home around 8pm after a very LONG day in Singapore, where I almost passed out from the pain of a second kidney stone while giving a urine sample at my doctor’s office before heading to the ER at Raffles Hospital for a bent IV and CT scan.
We got home and I was exhausted, so I went straight to sleep while Carol got the kids ready for bed — baths, teeth brushed, etc. I slept for around 4 hours and woke up at midnight and had to pee really badly. I went to the restroom and tried to go but nothing came out, just a trickle. It felt like I’d drank 8 beers within the previous hour because my bladder felt like it was about to burst, so I tried a second time and the same thing – trickle. I shrugged it off and got back in bed, but within 10 minutes it was so uncomfortable that I tried to go a third time. Same thing, trickle and no relief. Again I got back in bed and again I was only there for about 10 minutes before I went back to the bathroom. When nothing came out I started to get nervous that the kidney stone hadn’t actually passed but was now in my bladder and stopping me from being able to urinate.
I was frantic. I told Carolyn what was going on and I tried over and over and over to go but nothing would come out even though my bladder felt so full that I was afraid I’d pee on myself in the car ride to a hospital. By 1am I had decided that there was no way I could sleep like this so we loaded everyone back up in the car and drove back to Raffles Hospital. I should have learned my lesson from the IV because their ER was just about to give me even more pain…
We got to the ER around 2:45am. The kids were all asleep in car and Carol was exhausted, so I went in by myself and I left the car running in the parking lot so they could have some air and get some sleep. I was taken into the back and left there in a bed alone for quite a while. They said the urologist wouldn’t arrive until the morning, around 9am. I made probably 50 trips from my ER bedroom to the restroom, trying to pee, and still nothing would come out. Eventually they decided to put in another IV, which was the second in my life but also the second one in a 24 hour period.
After they had the IV in I asked whether I was going to have another CT scan or what and was told the IV was so they could give me fluids. WHAT?! I told them “hell no! my bladder feels like it’s about to explode, I can’t pee at all, so I don’t want more fluids to feel even more uncomfortable!” They left me alone again, sitting in the bed looking at my IV and walking back and forth to the toilet every 5 minutes.
Around 6am they admitted me and I was taken upstairs to a regular room. I sent Carolyn a text message and told her I had a regular room with a couch and chair, so she could bring the kids up there to lay down instead of sleeping in the car any longer. She said she was on her way up. In the 15 minutes it took for Carol and the kids to arrive at my room I made the biggest mistake of the whole 24hr period. I was hurting and sore and exhausted and just couldn’t bare any more discomfort after having tried to pee without any relief for more than 6 hours. I called the nurse, she called the ER doctor to come up and within a few minutes he was there.
I told him I was so uncomfortable and was there anything they could do. He said they could put in a catheter and it would drain my bladder.
Now up until that point in my life I had literally done everything I could to avoid scenarios like this. I ran from doctors to avoid shots, I avoided doctor visits whenever I was sick until the point where my lungs got so infected or my ears got so infected that I ended up in ER’s for pain medications and heavy duty antibiotics. I always thought I would get better and not need to see a doctor, and this usually worked until I moved to Malaysia. I hated seeing doctors. I hated getting shots. I hated getting poked and prodded. It’s just one of those things for me — I absolutely hate doctors, hospitals and everything to do with it.
So here I was, battling my second kidney stone within a month, my second time in the ER in 24hrs, my second IV (the first one was bent underneath the skin and had bruised my hand), and my bladder felt like it was about to explode so I couldn’t wait for 3-4 hours more until the urologist showed up. I was so delirious that I said “fine, whatever will give me some relief; put in a catheter”. Stupid move.
I won’t go into the details too much, but I will say a few things about it. The doctor said it only hurts going in, then you can’t really feel it. That’s not true. The amount of catheter tube the cram into you is almost unbelievable; I thought he was threading it up into my throat because he just kept pushing more tube in, each time was painful as hell. There was a nurse there to do the wrangling, so to speak, while the doctor did the tube cramming – not fun at all. After about 60 seconds of immense pain they let go of me and he said “it’s in”. I was in pain all over. My lower left back was throbbing in pain, my you-know-what felt like it had been cut in half, my bladder felt like it was still just about to explode, and now I hadn’t slept except for 3-4 hours in the past 24 and was just miserable.
I asked if the bag connected to the catheter was full of urine, hoping this ridiculously painful experience would at least give me some relief, but nope, the doctor said “huh. it’s empty”. What?!? Noooooo!!!
I laid there in the bed and started crying. If I’d had a gun I would have shot myself in the head. It was one of the top 5 low points of my entire life, but it would actually get worse within the next 10 minutes…