My Rockstar Piercing Part 1

I’ve got a piercing more badass than any you’ve ever had. Or seen. Or probably have ever heard about. It's going to take me a while to tell you this story, and this story AND piercing is not for the faint-of-heart. I’ve warned you, remember that. .

Let’s begin at the beginning. I had been at Jen’s just a few weeks when I started experiencing some rectal pain. Rectal pain and crohn’s tend to go hand in hand. She drops me off at Ketchup Klinik’s local ER, I check in, get undressed, get into my gown, blah blah blah - same routine as always. THIS time - however - sticks out, because the PA (physician’s assistant) doesn’t do an exam or any tests. He just loads me up with a bunch of sweet, sweet narcotics, gives me a prescription, and sends me on my way. I call Jen to come and get me.

Jen: Well, that was quick!

Me: Yeah, dude, they did *no examinations*.

Jen: What?? None? No CT scan? No ultrasounds? Not even a digital rectal??

Me: (shaking my head) nope, none of it.

Jen: What did they give you?

Me: Dilaudid and roxy, as per usual.

Jen: Holy shit, man!

As you can tell, we’re pretty experienced with the whole ER visit thing. A visit for me usually lasts a minimum of 5 hours, and that’s whether it’s crohn’s related or mental health related. That visit was approximately 2 hours, and that’s being generous.

As nice as it was to load me up with narcotics, it did nothing for the lasting rectal pain. That just intensified as the days went on. This is mid to late April. The date is important.

I had my first appointment with my nurse-practitioner gastroenterologist in early May. I complained to her about my rectal pain. She naturally did an exam - she would have done one regardless - and noticed nothing. It hurt like hell when she did it, but she couldn’t see anything.

I made an appointment with my PCP (primary care physician) towards the end of May. He couldn’t see anything wrong, and thankfully didn’t do a digital rectal (ps - that’s when they stick their finger up there if you didn’t know). He told me there was nothing there, and that I could soak in warm water to help ease my discomfort. The pain was at a solid 8 on a scale of 10 with 10 being the worst pain.(Note - I *loathe* the pain scale, it's so insufficient because I essentially live with my pain at an 8.) He told me to go to the emergency room if I was in significant pain, because 8 is apparently not significant. He prescribed me one roxycodone per day (this is what I call an oxycodone with no tylenol in it) so I could be in pain all day long, or I could get to sleep, but I'd wake up in about four hours when it wore off.  

In early June, Shannon (my nurse-practitioner, gastroenterology) called me to check on the rectal pain thing. I told her that the pain had increased dramatically. She asked if it got worse when I had a bowel movement, and I said I didn’t really know, as it hurt all the fucking time. She made an appointment with me, and told me to go to the emergency room if I was having pain.

I made another appointment with my PCP.

In the meantime, I went to the ER. Again. This time they did an exam. I’ve been CT scanned. A LOT. Like - if I were to have children, they may have tails and third eyes, a lot. I *thought* I had been CT scanned in every way that I could possibly be CT scanned...but no. I was so, so very very wrong. I don’t remember in which way it went, but they put liquid up my butt, and then an expandable balloon up there to keep all the liquid in.

They. Put. A. Balloon. And. Liquid. Up. My. Butt.      

Beware.

For all that humiliation, though, the ER doctor comes back and tells me “we see some swelling, but nothing that we can stick a scalpel in.” OH RIGHT! Because you can’t stick a scalpel in it, I’m not in pain! I was loaded up with prescriptions - again - and told that for pain, I should see my gastroenterologist or my PCP. (Remember that both my gastro and PCP both told me to go to the ER for pain.)  I just rolled my eyes and went to fill my prescriptions at the Instymeds machine. I tell Jen what happened and she gets pissed and says that she should have come with me, but I’m just tired and want to go home.

Then I have my first round in a Wisconsin looney bin, but not Ketchup Klinik, Holy Hospital.

I have my appointment with my primary care, he tells me there’s nothing there, and he won’t give me much for pain, because he wants me to be able to feel if something is wrong so I can go to the ER. I tell him what THEY said about getting my pain help through him, and the circle jerk that I’m sick of. He just kinda nods and shoves me out the door.

*Kicks the door on the way out*

I have my appointment with Shannon, and she does a full rectal exam, and I’m in tears. I ask her for some kind of pain help, non-narcotic, and she shuts me down and says that I should get pain help from the ER. By this time I’m seething, and tell her that I’m sick and tired of this game that they’re all playing. Why can I not get any help from any of them?? She just shrugs me off and leaves me crying.

So I steal coffee. (Not really, it’s free coffee - I just take a LOT.)

I have another episode where I absolutely cannot take the pain, and have Jen take me to the Ketchup Klinik ER. The physician’s assistant gives me a shot of dilaudid, and runs some blood tests. When the blood tests come back and show that my white blood cell count is normal, he does a digital rectal at the same time his nurse is ripping out my IV, says that he sees nothing, and he doesn’t want to give me a CT scan because I’ve just had one and that’s some intense radiation. “Like 400 times the radiation of a normal x-ray!” Well, super. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME THEN? “Don’t know, Miss H, you’ll just have to see your gastroenterologist.”

                                      *Internal screaming, much yanking of hair*

I think to myself - don’t worry, you have a colonoscopy close to home in just a few days, you’ll be just fine. By now it’s mid-June. I had the colonoscopy, and after that the pain was so intense I could barely walk.The Ketchup Klinik gastroenterologist who completed the procedure insisted that I was in remission, and that everything looked great!! down there, and that I shouldn’t be worried about anything at all! As for all that rectal pain you’re having, well - I just don’t know anything about that because I didn’t see a thing. Not. A. Thing. You are totally healthy, Jill, run through fields of flowers, friend - you are so much good there’s not enough good words to good about it! (Ps - That tiny little internal hemorrhoid that you see in the pictures may be causing some discomfort, but you’ve *had* them before! You’ve had them removed! You’re so much good!)

I don’t know if the pain had anything to do with it, but I had myself another mental health stay in Holy Hospital. It wasn’t even a full week after my colonoscopy, maybe three days max ( ← Important.) I couldn’t sit directly on my butt, but needed to participate in groups to try to get myself on some kind of even keel mentally. Even laying on the left side of my body caused exquisite pain, I didn’t know what to do. I complained to the nurses, and they would give me acetaminophen, and one night nurse did an exam - nothing. I sat on a hot pad, which was not good at all and I quickly switched to ice. When I felt the area - even after extensive icing - it was on-fire hot to the touch, and super hard, like there was something just below the skin - but the nurse said there was no redness. The night nurse didn’t touch where I was indicating, so she had no idea as to the heat radiating off of it.

Quick note - I cannot take any NSAIDS (non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs) - no Advil, no ibuprofen of any name (e.g. Advil, Motrin), no Aleve (naproxen sodium), no asprin, absolutely nothing over-the-counter except Tylenol (acetaminophen). That’s it. And I might as well take Tic-Tacs for all the good they do.

The next day, the nurse's aide had to force me out of bed for breakfast at 8, when for the past few days I had been up at 6. I could barely lift my tray to go sit down, and the only thing I could eat off of my tray were the diced pears. I immediately got sick to my stomach and thought they were going to come back up and so I told my nurse I felt awful and was going back to bed...she saw something on my face and told me she’d be in to check on me in the next few minutes.

She indeed was in to check on me posthaste, and brought the vitals machine with her. My blood pressure was 90/55 and dropping. For me, that’s extremely scary low, because at the time I was on blood pressure medication. Needless to say, they immediately stopped it. She was extremely concerned, and called for an actual doctor to come up ASAP. (There was a physician’s assistant that was up there daily, but this was way above his head.) She wanted me to try to eat, and went to get apple juice and graham crackers, since I thought I could stomach that (I get sick to my stomach a lot, and that snack generally sits well). By the time she came back with apple juice, the doctor was there, and determined that I needed to see the surgeon, and absolutely do not eat anything because “I’m pretty sure that you’ll be going into surgery”.

I thought to myself: Oh, YOU can see something, something that you can stick a scalpel in, with just your eyeballs, no humiliating CT scan, eh?? *rolls eyes as hard as I can, being sick*

The surgeon follows the doctor fairly quickly, and yes indeed I will be going into surgery. By 3:30 that afternoon. Well, HOLY HOSPITAL!!  It took  the right nurse to pay attention to me - yes - but I got the attention I needed, finally. (I would like to note, also, that that particular nurse was covering tattoos and had piercing marks on her face. Just for the record.)

Also for the record - this was less than a week after the colonoscopy. Y’know, the one that said that she saw nothing, and there was nothing wrong with me, and I was so much good I could skip through fields of flowers!

They indeed whisked me down to surgery, and I saw 375 people who were all going to be in the room with me, and they all wanted to shake my hand and explain their role, as if I’m going to remember their name and function after the propofol dump they’re about to give me. I very carefully explained to the anesthesiologist that I have a tendency to be a difficult patient, very high tolerance, like my grandmother apparently. I also have a tendency to sit up and start fighting, but I don’t remember any of that. I’ve just been told.

I’m going to stop here, because it’s getting lengthy for a blog post. I split this into two posts, which I hope will be easier to read. Fair warning, though, next week’s post may be a little too much for some people. I can obviously talk about what’s going on with me without much embarrassment to Jen and Mom, because they are who I talk to. If it’s too much, I pre-apologize, cause next week is a lot (at least I think so, for the uninitiated.) Anyway, much love!

xoxoxoxo