Blockage and other such incidentals

I was hospitalized on Saturday of this last week. Thankfully, not in the psych ward.  I felt bloated and had a lot of discomfort in the abdomen.  Antacids and anti-gas medication did nothing, so, on the advice of my daughter-in-law, the nurse, I went to the doctor.  The initial diagnosis was that it could be diverticulitis, appendicitis, or a blockage.  A CT scan confirmed the latter.

And so on Saturday I went into the hospital, armed with my list of medications, my lifeline as a bipolar person.  The plan was to put me on IVs for a day and see if the blockage resolved itself.  Meanwhile I was on NBM status: Nothing By Mouth, period.

What about my meds?  Big concern for me.  The nurse said that I could have enough water to take the pills.  The doctor said no, but offered a reasonable explanation.  Nothing was moving.  The medications would not be absorbed into my system anyway.  Tomorrow we will give you the meds.  OK, so tomorrow it is.

Sunday came with no movement in the GI tract, and so the decision was made to do surgery.  Prior to surgery, I spoke to the hospital pharmacist and explained my meds and why I was taking them.  Oh, and no substitutes.  She went about her business.  I had my surgery.  Thankfully, everything went fine.  The doctor was able to correct a strangulated hernia of the small intestine.

As evening approached, I asked for my meds.  The nurse replied that the doctor had not ordered them.  A call to the doctor, and orders.  Then the call to the pharmacy, whom I had spoken with that morning.  Meds were not available.  In the end, they decided to have Karla bring my meds from home.  This is not normal procedure.  The hospital personnel gave me my meds for the evening and then went to the pharmacy to confirm that they were what I said they were.  That checked out OK.

Then they decided to send the rest of the meds home with Karla.  Finally, on Monday, I saw a second pharmacist and by evening they had managed to get my correct medications.  2 days, 2 pharmacists, all for four pills.

One of the things I learned from this is how important it is as a bipolar person to be proactive in making sure that one's medication therapy is followed.  Secondly, that even hospitals are not always equipped and supplied to care for the mentally ill.  Thankfully, they were willing to bend the rules and allow for me to take my own meds.  But I couldn't help but feel like had I not advocated for myself as I had, they would only have concerned themselves with the medications directly related to the surgery.  As it was, they simply ignored the other medications I was on, for cholesterol and arthritis pain.  No big deal, I'm not going to die of a heart attack because I missed a couple of doses of cholesterol medications, and I was on another pain meds.  (A non-narcotic:  Toradol)

But I could easily been hospitalized for up to a week, and to miss my psychiatric medications that long would have consequences.  Advocate.

One other thing about hospitalization.  I've shared the last couple of posts that I'm quitting smoking.  Turns out that hospitalization is one significant aid in that process.  They were very good about accommodating the patch and supporting that therapy.  And need I say that it is not 'convenient' to smoke on a non-smoking campus.  I was not tempted, with my butt hanging out of the hospital gown, to venture off campus to have a smoke.  It was encouraging to me that I had no strong cravings.  Maybe I'm making progress here.  Although hospitalization is an expensive aid to quit smoking, I must say.

Finally, just a word or two about life.  We often don't realize what a blessing the most basic matters of life are, such as eating and pooping, until you can do neither.  To experience that is also another sign of aging.  After all these years the old intestines are just prone to getting into a tangled mess.  Not fun.  An lastly, I never knew what a culinary delight simple beef broth could be.  I imagined I was eating prime rib.  But so it was after the NBM day.  Fluid and flavor.  For that moment, that alone was enough.  But I am looking forward to the real thing, again.