Should Have Listened To My husband

After my training session with Arete on Thursday, I started to feel not so great, but I have a high tolerance for pain and like most people I am not all that fond of going to the doctor, so even though my husband(and others) continued to press, I didn't go.

Saturday morning I felt sore, but not awful, so I figured I was on the mend and all was well.  By noon on Saturday I knew that was not the case.  I was in a lot of pain and while the Mortrin was helping, it was not helping enough.  Sunday was brutal, but I am not a complainer and plus I had work to do. Sunday night I was a mess and my husband said, you really need to go to the doctor.  I agreed. 

Yesterday he had a regular appointment at our doctor, so while there he tried to make me an appointment, but they were booked solid and couldn't see me for a few days.  No problem.  I thought, well if they are not concerned I shouldn't be and maybe I don't need to go. My husband disagreed with my assessment.

Around 1ish, I started to get sick to my stomach from the pain, so I tried to eat a few crackers, but they did not sit well causing me to throw up.  By the time I stopped throwing up the pain was unbearable and I decided a trip to the doctor was needed.  My husband called the doctor again to see if someone cancelled and if they could squeeze me in, but they couldn't and suggested I to go to the ER.

For the first time ever the ER actually sounded good.  I drove myself which sucked.  I walked in and the woman at the counter said are you in pain?  I said yes.  She had me fill out a piece of paper that only asked for my name and why I was there.  That was it.  She had me sit down and tell her what happened and to rate the pain from 1-10.  10 being the worst.  I told her if I sat perfectly still an 8, but if I moved or coughed, 11. She took me straight back to a room. 

A physicians assistant came in and asked me what happened.  I said I was training and got hurt.  What kind of training he asked.  I told him self defense training.  He wanted to know the name of the type of training I do.  There is no name for what I do, so I just said I am training with an MMA guy.  His eyes got huge and he said "You fight MMA?".  I started to laugh, but it hurt too much. I said no.  I am just training to learn how to defend myself.  The hospital has NO WEAPON signs everyone, so I was trying to be careful about what I said.  Anyway, he said tell me exactly what happened. I did. He winced and said, "Good grief, lets get you looked at."

Every single person who came in was so crazy nice and each one of them asked me why I was there.  The nurse that came in to help me get into a gown asked why I was there.  I told her and she said, I do self defense training too.  Apparently our rec center offers several 6 week courses.  She is on her 2nd 6 week session.  We compared bruises.  She saw my wrists and said, are you learning what to do if someone grabs your gun?  It was pretty cool. I wanted to tell her about my blog, but because of the name of my blog, I opted not to.

The doctor came in and explained that the biggest concern was to check out my vital organs and look for blood clots. He was very worried about a partially collapsed lung because I was having a very hard time breathing.  He ordered blood work, an x-ray and a CT scan.  I had never had a CT scan before, so that was odd.  When the tech put the meds in my IV he said you will feel like you have to pee, but I promise you won't, so don't freak out.  I was thinking who freaks out if their bladder feels full.  Then he put the iodine(I think ) in and I was like, "Oh, that is not my bladder that feels like it has to pee."  Strange feeling.

I was in a lot of pain and the doctor didn't really explain everything super well.  He came in and said your insides are a mess.  You have a lot of swelling, torn cartilage, bruising probably everywhere and some fractured ribs  My 7th rib has 2 hairline fractures.  Most everything in on the left side.  He never did show me the xray itself or whatever comes from a CT scan, but he didn't seem concerned about the injuries themselves.  He was more concerned about getting me pain medication and impressing upon me the importance of not waiting to be seen for this kind of trauma. He told me he was not happy about me waiting 4 days to come in.  Not because of the ribs or even the sternum, but because I could have damaged my spleen or my lungs.  I could have had a blood clot. He told me I was tough, I had proved that and he wouldn't mess with me, but that next time I get injured, he would like to see me right a way.  I promised him I would come in immediately next time. 

I think I look super cute.



For the record I wasn't trying to prove anything. First, I honestly did not believe I was hurt.  I did hear cracking for sure, but I thought it was my back cracking like when I crack my knuckles, not something really cracking.  After it happened, I did feel fine.  Until later Thursday evening, I didn't even feel tenderness. Must have been the adrenaline or something.

I also was afraid that if I had something more serious Arete would be all coddling and not train me as hard and that is NOT what I want. 

Lastly, I had to work and I take pride in doing a good job.  I don't like to be late, ever. I don't like to take sick days, I don't like to make excuses.  It is a personal pride issue.  I had the same standard for myself when I did volunteer work for the Navy- Marine Corps Relief Society.   But with this job there is more than personal pride involved. I want to help John. I want to contribute in a way that aids him.  I want to do the work that frees him up to focus on teaching and the students. He can't do that if I am sitting on my butt watching him put up the awnings.   If he asks me to do something,  I do it.  I almost never know how to do what he is asking me, but I figure it out and I do it.  I will admit that on Saturday when I was trying to put up the awnings, I wished Ryan was there to show me how, but I was able figured it out.  The problem was that they are large and heavy and I had to put my hands over my head a lot and that caused me to be in a great deal of pain, so I did ask John to pick up the generators for me. I knew I couldn't handle the pain of that.  Up until the doctor told me I was pretty significantly hurt, I felt awful about not putting the generators away myself, which is ridiculous because John didn't care, I am sure.

Back to the ER visit. The doctor asked me if I was ready for  some meds to manage the pain now.  I said yes please.  I never say yes, but it hurt, bad.  I assumed Tylenol or Motrin, but the nurse had 2 syringes with her.  She said how are you getting home, but before I could answer she said I am giving you Toradol and Morphine. Her point was that I was not to drive.  I have never had Morphine before.  When she put it in the IV, I got the strangest feeling.  I can't explain it, but as it went into my veins, I felt an odd sensation.  I also got a prescription for Vicodin to manage the pain for the next several weeks.  Don't think I have ever had that either.  Finally, they were done with me and said I could go home as soon as my son arrived.

The nurse came in to give me my restriction and my discharge papers...

How many discharge papers do you think say NO fighting on them??