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More body fun...
10/29/10 01:51 pmManaged to produce a nice mucusy rank stool sample for the nice people at the hospital about an hour after we got home. Put it in the cup provided, put that in the BIOHAZARD plastic bag provided, and stored the whole shooting match in the refrigerator as instructed by the surly Lakeesha type who muttered at me over the phone when I asked if I could do it at home.
Mike took it up to Higgins Hospital (which is right across the street from us, as opposed to Tanner in Villa Rica, which is about 20 miles away), only to be told that the sample was no good. I should have been given various tubes for small samples, and it should have been processed within an hour of squirtage.
Oh God. So they gave Mike the kit, and he brought it back home. I was worried because I can only squirt when I've eaten something, and I hadn't eaten since the day before. So back out he went to get me some more hot and sour soup.
Ate some for lunch, but couldn't finish because it was making me nauseous. And I waited. And waited. And waited. Drank many GatorAdes. Ate the other half for supper, ate a little spaghetti because it smelled pretty good. Waited. Drank more GatorAdes. Waited.
Finally at 2:30 in the fucking A.M. I had ominous rumblings in the tumblings, and blatted out a good serving of the noxious mucus and slime honey coated pig shit I'm passing off as diarrhea. Then I got to sit on the pot with the container of Satan's Condiment on the edge of the tub, daintily shoveling portions into 3 separate 50 mL tubes of preservative, and one tub just so they can have extra I guess. It wouldn't have been so bad, I suppose, if the little scoops hadn't been so little, and the foul stuff hadn't been so fuckin' slimy -- it was in strings and ropes. Yuck.
And that horrible stench pervaded all.
I got everything packaged, back in the BIOHAZARD bag, then cleaned up. Rinsed the collection pot out with straight bleach after I washed it with antibacterial soap and hot water, then bleached everything the soap and water came in contact with. Then scrubbed my hands, Purelled them, and rinsed again in straight alcohol.
THEN I woke up Mike to run my shit up to the hospital. He checked -- the lab is staffed 24 hrs a day, so all my work wasn't in vain.
So there we are. Haven't heard back from the gall bladder thing, so I'm guessing no news is good news. It will take at least 8 hours for them to do even a "quick" ELISA test for C. diff toxins. Longer for cultures and whatnot.
I'm getting really tired of being so sick and weak. My mood is taking a definite downturn. I'm touchy and overly sensitive. I'm beginning to hermit. Thoughts of suicide are creeping around the edges of my brain -- Effexor is keeping them at bay for now, and I can up the dose if I need to. Trick or treats will be done tomorrow night (Saturday) because Bremen is a fucking Christian-infested town that thinks it's Satanic or something stupid to recognize Hallowe'en when it falls on Sunday, and I'm really not well for ankle-biters bothering us all night.
Bah humbug. Yeah, 2 months early, but fuck it.
Mike took it up to Higgins Hospital (which is right across the street from us, as opposed to Tanner in Villa Rica, which is about 20 miles away), only to be told that the sample was no good. I should have been given various tubes for small samples, and it should have been processed within an hour of squirtage.
Oh God. So they gave Mike the kit, and he brought it back home. I was worried because I can only squirt when I've eaten something, and I hadn't eaten since the day before. So back out he went to get me some more hot and sour soup.
Ate some for lunch, but couldn't finish because it was making me nauseous. And I waited. And waited. And waited. Drank many GatorAdes. Ate the other half for supper, ate a little spaghetti because it smelled pretty good. Waited. Drank more GatorAdes. Waited.
Finally at 2:30 in the fucking A.M. I had ominous rumblings in the tumblings, and blatted out a good serving of the noxious mucus and slime honey coated pig shit I'm passing off as diarrhea. Then I got to sit on the pot with the container of Satan's Condiment on the edge of the tub, daintily shoveling portions into 3 separate 50 mL tubes of preservative, and one tub just so they can have extra I guess. It wouldn't have been so bad, I suppose, if the little scoops hadn't been so little, and the foul stuff hadn't been so fuckin' slimy -- it was in strings and ropes. Yuck.
And that horrible stench pervaded all.
I got everything packaged, back in the BIOHAZARD bag, then cleaned up. Rinsed the collection pot out with straight bleach after I washed it with antibacterial soap and hot water, then bleached everything the soap and water came in contact with. Then scrubbed my hands, Purelled them, and rinsed again in straight alcohol.
THEN I woke up Mike to run my shit up to the hospital. He checked -- the lab is staffed 24 hrs a day, so all my work wasn't in vain.
So there we are. Haven't heard back from the gall bladder thing, so I'm guessing no news is good news. It will take at least 8 hours for them to do even a "quick" ELISA test for C. diff toxins. Longer for cultures and whatnot.
I'm getting really tired of being so sick and weak. My mood is taking a definite downturn. I'm touchy and overly sensitive. I'm beginning to hermit. Thoughts of suicide are creeping around the edges of my brain -- Effexor is keeping them at bay for now, and I can up the dose if I need to. Trick or treats will be done tomorrow night (Saturday) because Bremen is a fucking Christian-infested town that thinks it's Satanic or something stupid to recognize Hallowe'en when it falls on Sunday, and I'm really not well for ankle-biters bothering us all night.
Bah humbug. Yeah, 2 months early, but fuck it.
