It Hurts, Oh God, It Hurts

Last weekend was absolutely fantastic. The Second Annual Sausage Fest did not disappoint at any time, in any way. So much fun was had. We ate delicious food, drank fabulous beer, took an incredible hike to Blue Pool and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Once I get some pictures, I'll be sure to post them.

We left at noon yesterday. I was riding in the back seat of Tim's truck and as we were merrily recounting our weekend, my stomach seized. I wasn't sick and it wasn't acid reflux. It felt as though a balloon was inside my upper abdomen and inflating; pushing all my muscles and bones outward. It hurt really, really bad. While in the car, it happened several other times, but I chalked it up to heavy food, drink and forgetting my Prilosec. I had forgotten my Prilosec for a weekend some time ago, but nothing like this happened. When we got home, I took a couple of Pepsid to calm what I thought was just a bad case of indigestion.

The TV was on and I was writing in pain. The "inflating" feeling never went away, rather, it undulated between a 3 on the pain scale and a 9 (out of 10). Keep in mind that I've had some bad pain before, but only considered it a 7. In my view, a 10 on the medical pain scale is basically passing out and being non-responsive because you're in so much pain. It felt like I wasn't too far away from that.

I needed a distraction, so I decided to give WebMD a whirl. Fully expecting it to diagnose me with something like Skin Failure or Alien About to Burst From Chest Disease, I was surprised when it told me I was having an esophageal spasm. It sure felt like that. Once I had a name to give to my pain, it made a lot of sense. The base of my esophagus was seizing over and over; sometimes horribly, sometimes dully, but never stopping.

Not only did the Pepsid have no effect, but nothing was having any effect. I tried drinking water, stretching, standing and moving around. It just kept getting worse to the point where I was crying when it reached a peak. For about thirty seconds, tears would stream down my cheeks because it hurt so bad. Robin was at my side immediately. "What is it?," he would ask, "Do you need to see someone?" I tried to a couple of hours to let it be, but at around 5 o'clock, I couldn't take it anymore.

We drove to Urgent Care only to find that Urgent Care isn't open on Sundays. This meant my only option was the emergency room. Joy.

I always imagine the ER to be stuffed with craziness, overflowing and spilling into the nearby streets. It was relatively calm, but it still took two hours to be seen. The woman in line before me was an absolute hypochondriac, seeking the heaviest of pain medications (she requested Methadone by name) for what she called a "back ache." I realize that it's not appropriate to listen on other people's medical problems, but I knew this person was in for drugs and it was making me raging mad. I had a real problem, one that was causing my right eye to twitch from pain, and here this woman was, saying things like, "(SIGH) I just... can't seem to get it any better...(SIGH)." When the nurse asked her if she was on any other medication, the list was out of control. I had no idea people could take so many heavy medications. She was on anti-anxiety, pain medication, anti-inflammatory and on and on. I focused my anger solely on her and her trumped up excuses for further medication which helped distract me for ten minutes or so.

The doctor walked in and when I explained the weekend, the forgetting of the Prilosec and the food involved, she didn't seem too surprised. She said, "I'll have the nurse bring in a nice coctail and we'll do some blood work." The nurse returned a few minutes later with a concoction I can only describe as, "Minty; robust textures of chalk and asbestos with an instant numbing sensation and a narcotic finish." It certainly did the trick. They took my blood and said it would take another 30 to 45 minutes to get the results, so out came our iPhones and games we did play.

All my levels were fine. The doctor wanted to make sure the spasms weren't coming from something irregular (read: far worse) and it was just a weekend of heavy food. She gave me a few Vicodin in case anything else happened and off I went.

Today my muscles are really, really sore from a 9-hour bout of seizing and all I want to do is go home and sleep. I'm cranky, my fuse is short, but at least I don't have a baby alien trying to smash through my sternum.