My visit to the emergency room
When I said this weekend that I had an infection, I was just kidding. Or I thought I was. I was bitter about feeling sick; I wanted whatever symptoms I had to subside. They did! Great! Good symptoms – have a cookie.
I didn’t realize that, over the next few days, the symptoms hadn’t as much subsided as much as recoiled so as to strike a blow with the greatest possible force. pow! Right in the kidney, all of a sudden, while I was at work. I had no idea what to do. My doctor couldn’t see me, another doctor I tried wasn’t even allowed to talk to me. And I’d never gone to the hopsital before. Hopsitals are scary places, places for people with their noses hanging by a shred of skin or gunshot victims.
It took Human Resources to convince me to go — in fact, I guess because I looked pretty wretched, someone from HR ended up accompanying me to a nearby emergency room and staying with me through the whole ordeal. Luckily, as ER-visits go, mine was short and sweet. I was diagnosed within minutes by the coolest doctor I’ve ever worked with: “So, what brings you to the ER today? … Okay. You probably have a kidney infection.”
Fifteen minutes later: “Yup, you have a kidney infection. It’s a good thing you came in. Left untreated, they can kill your kidney. But don’t worry, you’ll be fine. I have to go sew someone’s finger up but I’ll be right back, okay?”
Shortly thereafter I was out the door again with a prescription for Cipro, some other pills that caution they may discolor my soft contact lenses, and an official “doctor’s note” in case I needed verification for my job or school (little did the nurse realize I had one-third of my company’s HR department waiting for me in the lobby).
I never even had to put on a gown. I did get one of those white plastic bracelets like they slap on your wrists at amusement parks. It says my name and birthday in soft purple letters. I feel somewhat better already, though still week. At least I have the weekend to recooperate.