I Don’t Like Mondays

First, forgive the length of this post, brevity is not my forté.

I try not to make this a place for me to bitch about whatever maladies or ailments I might have at the moment, but this was a fairly life-changing (and damned near life-ending) experience.

Hopefully this can serve as a cautionary tale for someone out there. As some of you (my imaginary fan club) may or may not know I work in group home with four adults with “intellectual disabilities” (that’s the latest PC term, anyway). I work 3rd shift 14/14/12 hours.

Now just a bit more setup. I have an undiagnosed (so far) bleeding disorder, generally not an issue, unless I’m subjected to some sort of trauma. Sometime back I saw a “Dr.” for a stiff, very sore, and inflamed big toe. When I got home with my prescription of Naproxen (an NSAID) I immediately realized that I’m not supposed to take those, and so, I didn’t.

Flash forward to a few weeks ago. The toe is flaring up again, and tylenol proves to be ineffective. Naturally I remember the Naproxen and decide to give it a try. It works and I’m thinking that 500mg once or twice a day, a few days a week should be fine.

So, flash forward to this past Sunday night/Monday morning: I’ve just had a slice of apple pie and my toe is starting to really hurt again, so I take another (my second of the day) Naproxen. I’ll try to keep what came next as in-offensive as possible.

My bowels began grumbling that they needed to be moved, so I did. When I looked into the bowl and saw that one end of the stool (sorry) was composed of the stereotypical ‘old coffee grounds’ I said to my self, “Oh, that’s not good.”

I’m thinking at that point that I’d be ok to finish my shift and can worry about it later.

Within minutes I began to realize that I had miscalculated.

After evacuating (shitting, if you prefer) several gushers (I lost count) of increasingly bright-red blood I knew I was in serious trouble and needed to call someone to take over for me, and ‘maybe’ an ambulance. The problem was; at this point I couldn’t stand without blacking out and didn’t have a phone within reach.

Finally during a break in the action, I crawl to a phone, get my boss’s number and make the call, (from the toilet) downplaying the situation not wishing to alarm her. A few minutes later as my hold on consciousness grew extremely tenuous I called back telling her “This is really bad, I’m going to have to call an ambulance.” (Which I should have already done, literally, hours earlier.) I did, then crawled to open the front door, so the EMT’s could get in.

The ambulance arrived, followed immediately by my boss, and it was off to the ER. I won’t bore you with my tales of the rampant, and apparently institutionalized incompetence I witnessed in the ER.

The bleeding stopped on its own by the time I’d been in the ER for a bit. They did all sorts of tests, revealing nothing that I hadn’t already deduced. They eventually moved me into a room, gave me two units of blood, all sorts of fluids and anti-biotics and such and they were even quite generous with the Morphine.

Tuesday afternoon (I arrived at the hospital around 5:30AM Monday) they finally let me eat, then Tuesday I was parolled, just in time to miss out on getting to vote.

Caldonia (my cat) was overjoyed to see me. She’s a little fat and I’ve noticed that she eats a lot more while I’m at work; so naturally I’d picked this weekend to start leaving her just enough food for the night.

They want to give me a chance to heal before they do any scope-work. So I have that to look forward to; colonoscopes, endoscopes, kinoscopes, otoscopes, kaleidoscopes, oscilloscopes, fluoroscopes, gyroscopes, telescopes, periscopes, all sorts of ‘scopes.

I just wish they could tell me something concrete, right now I’m a complete wreck. Every twinge or grumble from my gut absolutely terrifies me.

I’ve already taken next weekend off from work, I’m a nervous wreck and I’m exhausted.

Oh, and the moral to this story?
Don’t take stupid chances with your health.

8 thoughts on “I Don’t Like Mondays

  1. Hey Greg:

    Man, I hope you doing OK. I too, never like to call the EMTs if I feel like that can handle something myself. Got in trouble a few times that way.

    You may want to see a specialist about this (nothing like stating the obvious). I can honestly say that medical technology can go a long way. I could tell you all about my expereiences, but it might be a HIPPA violation.

    Take care,


  2. Thanks JW. I am feeling better, though like I said, a tired, nervous wreck. I’ve got a couple of appointments next week with more to come.

    I’m 99% sure that it was an isolated incident brought on by my own stupidity vis-√†-vis the Naproxen, but that other 1% terrifies me.

  3. Hello handsome:

    Scopes are literally “a pain in the whatsis” but it’s necessary. I have been where you are, having crohn’s disease, and it’s unpleasant to say the least. I am wondering if you don’t have gout as a symptom of a rheumatic condition…. Please, let me know how you are doing, I worry.

  4. Handsome? You must have me confused with some other guy, Fishy. Handy, perhaps; handsome, not so much. :o)

    I never thought I’d say it, but I’m actually rather anxious to be ‘scoped so I can find out what is (or perhaps more importantly, isn’t) wrong.

    Thanks for your concern, I’ll keep you posted.

  5. sorry to hear about all that! Im glad to hear ur feeling somewhat better. I miss talking to u and have been wondering whats going on in “gregs World”. I hope u have a great bday!

  6. Hey Jenny! I am feeling much better. I miss talking to you too. Give me a call, you know my number (and if you don’t, it’s in the book).

  7. Sorry to hear about your troubles. However, I am going to keep mental track of this post and refer to it, verbally at least, anytime anybody gives me a look when I mention I always check the toilet after I move my bowels.

  8. You know Delmer, as much as I appreciate that, there is another alternative;
    you don’t really have to run around telling people that you check. I’ve no room to talk, I know… I’m just sayin’.

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