I’m writing this from my regular dialysis facility. My friend C whom I’m staying with was nice enough to drive me from Apex all the way here this morning. The 10:30 time works much better today than my usual 3:30, and I’m glad DaV could accommodate. I requested my most-trusted tech, to minimize the potential for any issues. I was in control of the conversation of how much fluid we should take off. There’s no definitive answer, since we just don’t know what my body’s baseline will be for another few days or weeks. For now, I’m having 2.0 liters taken off, given I feel very bloated, my BP is a bit higher than the low readings I’ve been getting used to post-surgery, and the nurse hears a small bit of fluid on my exhales.
Saturday, 1/22, 6pm – I leave Duke Hospital.
6:20pm – My father, stepmother Janice, and I arrive at the Rite Aid on Broad and Guess. It’s pharmacy closes at 6pm on Saturdays. I am flabbergasted. Apparently, many other local pharmacies shut down at this time, too. I had hoped to hit Costco by 5:30, but the check-out delays prevented that.
6:35pm – We head to the Rite Aid off Hillsborough Rd in Durham. I had stopped going here years ago due to lousy service. I don’t remember exactly why they were so bad, but I recall how it was amazing how bad their service was considering how many people they’d have milling around back there.
I was in too much pain to go in with Dad, who brought in my prescriptions, including one for a controlled-substance painkiller, and my prescription card. He came back shortly after explaining there was no problem. Everything was in stock, and we should return in 20-25 minutes.
We went to Kroger to pick up a few things, and this took 20-25 minutes. We went to the drive-through. At this time, the train-wreck of poor Rite Aid service begins. First, we’re told it will be another 15-20 minutes. Dad explains that his son just had surgery, and we were told my stuff would be ready. Rite Aid says they’ll get it right away.
Then Rite Aid says that they are out of oxycodone, my principal painkiller. They have a few, to get me through 3 days, perhaps. We are livid, considering Dad was told that everything was in stock. Since this is a controlled substance, I cannot simply pick up the remaining pills in a few days. Nor can I simply have the doctor call in or fax in a new prescription. I’d have to physically obtain a written prescription from the doctor, which would be a little difficult given the next day being Sunday and with me staying in Apex after that. We ask where the closest pharmacy is that has the medication and will be open. There’s a 24/7 Walgreen’s by Southpoint. It’s not too far, except Dad is tired, doesn’t know the area, and doesn’t like driving at night. I curse Rite Aid out a few times, but we decide on the Southpoint option.
7:00 – 7:30pm – Dad and Janice drop me off at home. I get to see my critters. I pop some pain pills. They program their GPS for Walgreen’s at Fayetteville Street. After they leave, I look at my Rite Aid receipts. They processed my prescriptions against my old Duke prescription benefits instead of my new ones. I did not get my prescription plan discounts. What should have been about $40 in meds cost $180. Now I need to return to Rite Aid at some point to try to straighten this out.
(I meant to just write a summary of events, but this incident deserves it’s own write-up, and I’ve got more time and less discomfort typing than I had a couple of days ago.)
9:30pm – Dad and Janice return from their South Durham mission with the meds. I hobble into my bed, where Aremid joins me. I take my nighttime cocktail of pills, which are guaranteed to get me asleep shortly, and they do.
Sunday, 1/23, 8am – I awake after a good 9-10 hours of sleep. My petsitter has come to do all the critter tasks. Dad and Janice arrive soon after. I have peanut-butter-and-jelly for breakfast.
8am – 2:15pm – I relax in the living room, watching some Modern Family, 30 Rock, and Real Time With Bill Maher, and getting in some overdue snuggle time with Herman. I have a Jimmy John’s sub for lunch, which is tasty and goes down fine, but may have been a bad choice, in retrospect.
2:20pm – sleep – Dad and Janice drive me to Apex, where I’ll spend the next few days with the S’s. Pain remains controlled, but I am feeling increasingly bloated and queasy. I am not able to eat much at dinner. Bowels are on strike.
Monday, 1/24, 10am-2pm – I awake from another restful night of sleep. I don’t remember if I eat anything. But the bloat and queasiness are joined by nausea, and eventually, I reach a tipping point.
I vomit up roughly 72 hours of food and drink. Fortunately, C gets me a bowl just in the nick of time. I produce quite a colorful jambalaya. This is no a pleasant 5-10 minutes.
I feel a bit of relief. But I am also feverish.
I call the number that my release instructions tell me to call–the main Duke number–and ask for the transplant coordinators, who are listed as my contacts to reach out to. The transplant department is confused as to why I am calling them, since I did not receive or nor offer up a transplanted organ. I am annoyed that I received poor instructions. Nonetheless, I leave a message on my transplant coordinator’s voicemail.
Then I call my surgeon’s office, where I reach the surgeon’s kind and helpful assistant. She takes down my symptoms.
My surgeon calls me a little while later. Without hesitation, he instructs me to go to the emergency room. I ask if they’ll know he’s sending me. He assures me that they will. I’ve been to the Duke ER about five times, and four or five of those times have been downright miserable, due to the extremely long wait times and lack of coordination and communication between departments.
C is able to arrange childcare and generously drives me all the way from Apex to the Duke Hospital.
And that’s all the recapping I feel like doing right now. Far more detailed than Part 1, I’ll need to do a Part 3 at some point soon. But I don’t want to think about what’s in the past right now.
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