Between Christmas and New Year I spent 3 nights in hospital. I had gone in to see an out of hours doctor, and ended up being admitted (against my will). I had nothing with me, no pyjamas, no book, no contact lens solution. I cried.
Mum and dad were with me, and arranged for my sister to go to my flat and pick up a few things. It was weird to think of her going there without me.
I was moved into a private room, which was nice in the way of a really sterile hotel room, but I was pretty scared. I had insurance through my work, and was grateful to have it, and be out of the chaos of the shared wards. But once everyone left, and I'd finished my drip, and the nurse had given me a painful stomach injection, it was eerie.
It was surprisingly quiet, and I had a lot of thoughts and no one to talk them through with. I cried every night, sometimes for hours. Partly because of the pain, part loneliness, part fear of the future. There was still no diagnosis forthcoming.
When I was discharged, it was with mixed feelings. I wasn't any better, there was just nothing more they could do for me. My pain had levelled off, and I had been scanned, x-rayed, MRI'd and generally prodded about.
Back to the specialists I must go.
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