Tattoos and Tylenol

Lately, I have toyed with the idea of having "Penicillin Allergy" tattooed on my backside in Diploma Script. Such an undertaking would be expensive and painful to be certain, but also immensely amusing and potentially life-saving at the same time.

Case in Point:  Shortly after my 23rd birthday, I was faced with the daunting task of actually birthing my one and only daughter. I remember waiting anxiously for days in the Maternity Ward, listening to the sounds of this happy phenomenon all the while. For something so miraculous and awe-inspiring, it certainly didn't SOUND like something I wanted to do.

Having been ensconced in the Halls of Medicine a bit longer than most in my predicament, I found myself privy to some information many would have overlooked. One example was that, if one is in fact allergic to penicillin, it is stamped in RED at the top of every page in your hospital chart.

Other allergies, such as morphine for example, are then stamped in black, in a smaller size, directly below this incredibly useful piece of information.  It should be noted that, after a major surgery, both penicillin and morphine are routine (see tattoo idea, paragraph one)!

Seeing as my blood pressure was sky-high, my kidneys exhausted, and my stress level at listening to the sounds of others' childbirth experiences for a number of days was off the chart, it was decided that the imminent and best solution to the problem of the life-sucking bundle of demon joy residing in my distended abdomen would be to surgically remove the interloper.... Uh, beautiful child.

The first impediment to this otherwise brilliant plan was the total absence of platelets in my bloodstream. Platelets of course are clotting agents. As ready as I was to be unburdened of my distended abdomen, I hardly saw the point of these little guys. My Obstetrician, however, soon convinced me that major surgery without them might not be my best option.

I was placed on steroids for a few days, and given transfusions of other people's platelets, to ready me for my big day. Curious that in order to get one foreign person from inhabiting my body, I needed to be infused with the cast-offs of other people. Hmmm...

Eventually, my surgery was scheduled and completed. But not before a rather interesting and decidedly botched attempt at anesthesia which precipitated an emergency caesarian! Lucky for me, the two benefits of this were that I need not be awake for the procedure, and that said procedure was completed without any of my family getting a peek into my insides.

When I awoke, I was at first surprised to see that there was no two-headed spike-tailed small creature inhabiting my new room with me. Of course, I was looking for the fruit of my loins, but also was happy not to have a roommate.

I next noticed an IV drip connected to my arm.

Curious to find out whether my offspring possessed a forked tail or not, and to see what sort of fluids were leeching into me, I pressed the CALL button on a cable attached to my bed. then i pressed it again. and again. and again and again and again....

Eventually, a nurse who appeared to be about 12 years my junior wandered into my room. "I had a baby" I auspiciously announced to her. "I would think so," she adeptly answered. "Where might this baby BE?" I inquired. "Oh, she's in the NICU..." I was told (and later learned that this stood for NeoNatal Intensive Care Unit).

"So, it's a girl?" I asked. "Are you sure?" "We're pretty good at figuring that stuff out around here," my new partner in sarcasm returned. "How many fingers and toes?" I inquired. "The normal ration." I was assured. "When can I see her?" I now needed to know. "When your doctor says you are well enough, probably later this afternoon," I was disappointed to hear.

Satisfied that I had not in fact hastened the End of Days by bearing Satan's child, I then moved to the issue of the IV drip.

What's in here? 

Oh, it's a combination of saline solution and a pain medication. 

No antibiotics? 

No, we didn't want to do that until we were certain of what you could have. 

A pain medication, you said. What type? 

Oh, it's a morphine drip. You get 10cc every 10 minutes, PLUS you can push this little button here every 20 minutes for an extra 10cc if that isn't enough. (Imagine big smile here)

Ummm, I'm allergic to morphine. You have to get this out of me. NOW! (I in fact suffer migraines when given any opiate!)

We need a doctor's orders to change your medication.

But I don't want you to change it, I want you to STOP it!

We need a doctor's orders to change your medication.

I'm not sure if you noticed this, but we're in a freakin' hospital. It's literally CRAWLING with doctors! I would bet if you stuck your head out that door RIGHT NOW and shouted DOCTOR, someone would answer...

Well, your doctor is on break right now, but he will be back to see you in another hour or so.

I can't wait that long. You HAVE TO GET THIS OUT OF ME!

I can't do that. We need a doctor's orders to change your medication.

LISTEN, B&*#%, if you don't get this S#^$ out of my arm RIGHT NOW (I believe this is where I went a tad Linda Blair???), I am going to pull it out myself and then IF I HAVE TO I am going to CRAWL in this D#$& hospital gown WITH MY A#$ HANGING OUT for THE ENTIRE WORLD TO SEE, to the elevator. I'm going to get on that M^&)^# F(@$%#ing elevator and go down to the GIFT SHOP and get me SOME F&%$##ing TYLENOL. THEN I'm going to come back here and see my D!%# BABY, and after THAT I am going to HUNT YOU DOWN and make sure you have a HEADACHE AS BIG AS THIS F*^&##ing one I HAVE RIGHT NOW, for the REST OF YOUR MISERABLE LIFE! NOW STICK YOUR G^$#%-D^$%$ head out that door and GET A F^$#^ing DOCTOR IN HERE STAT!!!!

My new buddy stood there for a few seconds, with a decidedly deer-in-the-headlights look. Only when I made a move to swing my legs over the edge of the bed (not the easiest thing to do when hooked to an IV with a migraine after major surgery and the side of the damn bed is still up, I must admit!) did she regain some composure and make a run for the door.

"DOCTOR!!!" I heard her scream loud enough for someone in Taiwan to hear.

Soon, I was morphine-free and given some over-the-counter, 500mg regular Tylenol. A wheelchair was scavenged to transport me up 3 floors (NOT down to the gift shop bare-assed!) to the NICU. I was able to confirm for myself that my baby had no protrusions, either in front or in back. I counted fingers and toes and was satisfied.

I was eventually released from the hospital a mere two days later. In a few weeks, I learned that a case like mine would typically be kept for 5 or more days. It would seem, however, that someone feared that doing so would jeopardize the mental health of the Maternity Ward staff, so I was let go early (for good behavior???).

A few weeks later, I was even allowed to bring my baby home (although famously, she turned out in fact to be the demon spawn we had expected -- but in a nice way!).

It was several weeks later that I surprisingly got a bill in the mail from the Hospital. They wanted us to understandably settle the debt of my daughter's extended stay. But most curious was that they wanted some form of compensation for MY 2-day stay in the Maternity Ward (my emergency c-section being 100% covered by insurance), I was truly stunned.

I wrote them back and told them my education of their nurse should cover most of my expense, but that I'd send some Tylenol back.  I don't remember receiving a second bill.