Battle Hymns of a Hot Mess Mom

Dr. V called me at 7:30pm. This can’t be good. She spoke with Dr. G she wants me admitted to the hospital tonight. Sigh. I just got out. She wants me there for rounds in the morning. My ALT levels are too high. Per Google “AST levels above 1,000 U/L may indicate liver injury or hepatitis. Doctors may consider ALT results high if they are above 33 U/L in males and above 25 U/L in females.”

3:00am. I finally get admitted upstairs. I’m stuck in 3W Neurology. The transport tells me how new the building is and how big the rooms are. Friend, IDGAF if the nurses don’t know oncology and their way around a picc line I’m scared. I don’t care about your fancy room or view. I care about not getting sicker here!

Blood draw at 7:00am. Whole body hurts. Again, we have nurses telling me how blood is drawn from my picc and how it’s hospital policy. No friend. It’s not. I’m tired and grumpy – I want to talk to a charge nurse. Please don’t BS me and use the words “hospital policy” …this is literally my fifth time here and second time this year being here. How about Neuro doesn’t do picc lines often so we don’t stock the same vacutainers as oncology. Give me honesty instead of “hospital policy.” I’m chained to my bed not literally but have a bed alarm because…they said neuro patients need it? I’m being trolled. From the moment I’m admitted I want to go the f*ck home immediately. What do I need here that I can’t do at home?! Being monitored and watched like a monkey?! Ugh. J was the one who asked me to go get admitted this time. I am yellow and purple. I guess he knew someone who was jaundiced and didn’t get checked out and died shortly afterwards. So here I am…back in the hospital. Exhausted. Uncomfortable. But monitored…