Case in point

Sometimes, after receiving disappointing news, it's nice to have life show you why something happened. It can be reassuring to know that despite the fact that you are crushed, the correct choice was made. Ya know, a friendly pat on the shoulder from life that says, "Sorry you were bummed, but this is why that happened."

Well. It appears that I may have wished just a smidgeon too hard for that friendly pat. Instead of a friendly pat, I received more of a giant smack that said, "um, hello? THIS is why you are not working."

Yes friends, mere hours after being denied a return to work, I landed myself in the hospital.

Now I know what you are thinking- overdose of frozen yogurt, no question.

But my friends, you are wrong. I landed myself in the hospital because my feeding tube (ya know, the one that was a whopping 14 days old) fell out.

I mean, I can't say as I blame it, I probably wouldn't want to be responsible for continually giving my stomach something it hates. That being said, I would have appreciated just a little more perseverance.

Little moment of feeding tube education- when a tube falls out, you should PANIC. Ok, maybe not panic persay, but you need to hightail yourself to the nearest hospital ASAP. That hole closes within an hour and the surgery to get a new stoma is one that I would love to avoid for the rest of my existence. It is with this knowledge of painful surgery and only with this knowledge of painful surgery that I grit my teeth and jammed the thing back in. I'm going to go ahead and assume that you understand that I would not rate that feeling as fantastic...

Luckily, I had just seen my GI on Tuesday and we had decided on our emergency plan if the tube fell out a few days before the 3 month change. (Ya know, few days, few months...what's the difference?!) My doctor called the hospital, booked me a procedure time, I used half a roll of tape ensuring that the tube wouldn't fall out, called a friend for a ride and set off for the hospital.

I should have picked up on the fact that it was going to be an exceptionally special day, when I was "offered" an IV for a procedure that needs no sedation. Or if I missed that moment, I really should have picked up on the specialness when I (yes, me, ya know, the patient) taught the doctor how to insert the new tube and why you use saline, and not air, to inflate the new balloon (it needs saline to weigh it down). But no, instead of running away at top speed like I should have done, I followed directions like a good little patient.

Bad move, reaaaaally bad move.

My doctor decided that he wanted to send me to radiology to ensure the tube was in place. Sounds reasonable enough, right? Well then he added that he also wanted to make sure there wasn't anything in my stomach that had caused the balloon on the first tube to explode and to look for balloon fragments in my stomach.

Oh. Right. I mean, I knew swallowing that pile of thumbtacks must have been a bad idea...?

Mind you, at this point, it has been a good 18 hours since I've eaten or drank anything and my blood pressure is heading south a little bit too early for the winter. I have learned never to leave home for the hospital without some quality reading material. I reach into my bag for my magazine to distract myself from the cotton mouth and fact that I can't necessarily see straight and what do I pull out? Genius that I am, I packed Cooking Light. Fabulous.

After about 4 hours of waiting for radiology, the nurses notice that they can't actually see a single vein anywhere on my body and they decide to take matters into their own hands (nurses = awesome). They corral 2 doctors with a break between procedures, sequester an open room, bribe a tech and wheel me in with 3 syringes full of dye. Allow me to share the highlights reel...

Me: "Oh excuse me sir, but you can't just put a syringe in my port, you need to attach the tube. Oh, you don't know how? Ok, I'll do it."

Doctor #1:"Ma'am, can you lie on your side? We can't find your stomach."

Doctor #2: "Oh that's it! Isn't it?"
Me: "No, that's my colon."
Doctor #3 (called in to track down my "lost" stomach): "Oh, she's right."

Needless to say, I had about 3 syringes worth of dye hanging out in my system, but my stomach was still considered MIA and I had to wait for radiology.

5 and a half hours after I arrived (and 1 issue of Cooking Light and 3 Law and Orders later) I was called to radiology. My nurse dropped me off, told the tech "you have to attach a little tube to the port, she'll show you how to do it" and wished me luck. The radiologist looked at the screen for approximately 5 seconds, told me the balloon was in place, there was nothing extraneous in my stomach and that I was free to go. Stupendous.

At this point, it has been about 23 hours since I've had food or water. After being driven home by a wonderful friend, I finally ingested some real, honest to goodness calories. Only after I had some calories and came back to reality did I notice that apparently I had deemed it more important to run the dishwasher and organize the top shelf of the pantry before I ate.

Hey, at least my kitchen is clean.