My Neck is Stuck Out
Feb. 24th, 2002 11:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
This neck thing has been getting nastier and nastier. Swallowing makes it worse.
Last night I went to Urgent Care at Palo Alto Medical Clinic. The doctor there decided to x-ray my chin and send me, via ambulance, to Stanford's Emergency Room. I was terrified.
I called Warren at work, who in turn called Jane McMillan, my boss at the station. Jane rushed to find a very last-minute fill-in for me as I lie in a bed with lots of monitors all over me. Because I was swelling from the outside-in they were afraid I might also be swelling from the inside-out, a much more serious condition.
After several hours of monitoring they determined I am only swollen on the outside-in, diagnosed me as having "viral pharyngitis" and sent me home with a prescription for (bletch) prednisone.
Meanwhile, a sub-drama was playing out regarding how I was supposed to get to my car to get home. Those idiots at Stanford wanted me to take a taxi to my car when I didn't ask to waste my time in their hospital. I knew they had some kind of on-campus transportation that could take me back for free, and I persisted until I got it. I'm without a day job, and this episode cost me a week's worth of my only source of income.
In the middle of all this Warren got another call at the radio station. The mother of the overnight news anchor, Derrick Villa, had suddenly died that night. Warren has been asked to cover some of Derrick's shifts, which means money for him, but we both agree the way Warren's getting hours sucks. Derrick is a nice guy. He and I went to San Jose State together. We were board operators together in the early 90s. Derrick's wife is pregnant with their first kid, and I know his parents were giddy about becoming grandparents.
Anyhow, after I got back to my car, I drove to the 24-hour Walgreens in Mountain View, where I had the stupid prescription filled. While waiting, I picked up a sympathy card for Derrick which I'll have Warren take to the station tonight. The pharmacist at Walgreens tried to give me a consultation about the prednisone, but it was largely useless. "It'll affect your blood sugar," she said."
I asked, "Which way? Will it go up or down?"
She replied, "It can go up or down. It's a hormone."
How utterly useless. I was trying to find out whether I need to be extra-cautious or could go willy-nilly and sugar-binge (a very rare treat for hypoglycemic me), and she had no idea what I was asking (English wasn't her first language).
So now here I am in bed. My throat is sore. I have a sinus headache, too. My neck is swollen. Nothing is helping. I'm stumped.
Last night I went to Urgent Care at Palo Alto Medical Clinic. The doctor there decided to x-ray my chin and send me, via ambulance, to Stanford's Emergency Room. I was terrified.
I called Warren at work, who in turn called Jane McMillan, my boss at the station. Jane rushed to find a very last-minute fill-in for me as I lie in a bed with lots of monitors all over me. Because I was swelling from the outside-in they were afraid I might also be swelling from the inside-out, a much more serious condition.
After several hours of monitoring they determined I am only swollen on the outside-in, diagnosed me as having "viral pharyngitis" and sent me home with a prescription for (bletch) prednisone.
Meanwhile, a sub-drama was playing out regarding how I was supposed to get to my car to get home. Those idiots at Stanford wanted me to take a taxi to my car when I didn't ask to waste my time in their hospital. I knew they had some kind of on-campus transportation that could take me back for free, and I persisted until I got it. I'm without a day job, and this episode cost me a week's worth of my only source of income.
In the middle of all this Warren got another call at the radio station. The mother of the overnight news anchor, Derrick Villa, had suddenly died that night. Warren has been asked to cover some of Derrick's shifts, which means money for him, but we both agree the way Warren's getting hours sucks. Derrick is a nice guy. He and I went to San Jose State together. We were board operators together in the early 90s. Derrick's wife is pregnant with their first kid, and I know his parents were giddy about becoming grandparents.
Anyhow, after I got back to my car, I drove to the 24-hour Walgreens in Mountain View, where I had the stupid prescription filled. While waiting, I picked up a sympathy card for Derrick which I'll have Warren take to the station tonight. The pharmacist at Walgreens tried to give me a consultation about the prednisone, but it was largely useless. "It'll affect your blood sugar," she said."
I asked, "Which way? Will it go up or down?"
She replied, "It can go up or down. It's a hormone."
How utterly useless. I was trying to find out whether I need to be extra-cautious or could go willy-nilly and sugar-binge (a very rare treat for hypoglycemic me), and she had no idea what I was asking (English wasn't her first language).
So now here I am in bed. My throat is sore. I have a sinus headache, too. My neck is swollen. Nothing is helping. I'm stumped.
no subject
Date: 2002-02-24 12:51 pm (UTC)*sends big hugs*
If I weren't on the other side of the continent I'd come over with some soup. :)
no subject
Also prepare to be touchy as hell. :-/ The first time Doug was on it, he stared at me in utter bewilderment after two days of mood swings.... "Congratulations," I noted wryly. "You're premenstrual."
(Doing a quick Google search on "prednisone blood sugar" gives me several hits that all mention a probably elevation in levels, sorry.)
no subject
Date: 2002-02-24 11:35 pm (UTC)It makes her hyper and hungry. I've not noticed any mood swings, but she is moody anyway when she is sick.
no subject
Date: 2002-02-25 09:16 am (UTC)