I am typically a pretty good patient. I'm mostly honest, cooperative and do most of what my doctor says. But I hate taking medicine. I only take it when absolutely necessary, like when my cramps make me want to tear one of my kids heads off, then I think, "maybe I should just take some Advil," and it helps.
I've wondered before if it's that I'm a naturalist, don't like putting foreign stuff in my body, but after this weekend I'm reminded that no, that's not it at all. Drugs and me just don't mix.
Like when I was attempting natural childbirth on my first over 9 pound baby and the nurse convinced me to take some nubane. "It'll take the edge off," she said. For the first five minutes it was mildly helpful, then it just caused me to fall into a deep sleep in between horrifically painful contractions that were only two minutes apart. A couple times my nervous hubby nudged me awake, asking me if I was okay. Apparently as I released a relaxing breath at the end of the contraction, I would forget to take another breath in. Joel was afraid my sleep was becoming a little too deep. Then the baby's heart rate went down so the doctor got Lukas out of there and everyone was okay. But Joel still gets a little shaky when he talks about watching my breathing drop as I dropped off to sleep between each contraction.
Then, for some reason, my doctor gave me nubane again after the birth of my little girl. I wouldn't let him give it to me during labor. Apparently he thought it would relax me again, as I was a little shaken up by that labor. But all it did was keep me from actually sleeping, I remember feeling like I was floating and thinking that my little girl was actually me when I was a baby. Like I said, me and drugs don't mix.
Which brings me to this past week. My doctor wanted to start me on a new medication that I grudgingly agreed to take for the sake of my future health. Then, due to the strep epidemic overtaking my home, I stopped taking the first medication so that I could take the penicillin prescribed by my doctor. I thought it was strange seeing the word penicillin on the label, I couldn't remember the last time I was prescribed that stuff, it was always Amoxicillan or Zythromax, but I started taking it Wednesday and then woke up Saturday morning feeling like my hand was asleep. I tried massaging it, holding it up in the air to get the blood flowing and moving it around, but soon it became painful, like my fingers were going to explode.
I got out of bed and realized my foot hurt too, then my other hand started to hurt and I got out the side effects pamphlets on any and all drugs I had taken in the last week. One said that if there was swelling of the hands or feet I was to seek IMMEDIATE MEDICAL ATTENTION. You couldn't see that they were swollen, but they were throbbing and were hot to the touch. Can I just mention here that one of the side effects of penicillin is a "black hairy tongue." Are they serious? Black? Hairy? Does it just feel hairy or does actual hair grow on the black tongue? And does the tongue turn pink again or is it black and in need of a good shave indefinitely?
Questions with no answers.
Anyway, I went to the ER and was checked into my very own room. I must say here that my only comparisons are to County General and Seattle Grace. Dr. Green never showed up and there was no Dr. McAnything anywhere to be seen. But they inserted an IV and pumped me full of all sorts of fun stuff like Benedryl and steroids and pain meds. Eventually the pain went away, but I left the hospital barely able to stand on my own two feet and with the doctor telling me not to take either medication because he didn't know which one was causing the side effects. See, me and drugs, no good.
And while I have great respect for the medical profession, I have to say that I don't like all the testing and guessing and uncertainty that goes along with it. I want Dr. House to walk in my room, berate me for my fear of modern medicine, try to kill me with some crazy idea of his, and then heal me with absolute certainty of what the problem is. Okay, I would actually curl up into the fetal position and hide under the bed if House used his usual methods on me, but I would at least like the solid answers that he provides at the end of every episode.
So, I went home and took a two hour nap at four in the afternoon, and when I woke up my fingers were not throbbing, I could walk without pain, and as far as I can tell, I will have no need to shave my tongue in the near future.
Hallelujah.
