It has been an eventful week for me.

Monday was plain enough: work, dinner, D&D. We are on a Halloween-themed adventure right now, it's pretty interesting.

Tuesday started slowly, I had the day off so I slept in until about 8. I was in the middle of having an online conversation with Bob when Patrick walks in the door around 10:45.
"Don't tell me you got robbed again."
"No, I just don't feel too good."
"Your stomach hurts?"
"Yeah, I'm feeling kinda nauseous."
Patrick took a nap until around 12, when I woke him up and made him eat some soup. He was feeling okay, but not good, until somewhere around 5, when he left the couch suddenly and set up camp in the bathroom. Half an hour later, I heard him start throwing up. Violently. Patrick throwing up sounds more like he's forcing everything out and choking on it at the same time. It's almost a wet coughing sound.
I do what I can, and call Caryn to tote me off to the store so I can get him things to make him feel better like Pepto Bismol, crackers, and gatorade. Around 8:30, his mom comes over to check on him and make sure we don't need anything.
9:00 rolls around, and Patrick is still throwing up regularly.
"Your mom thinks you should call a doctor."
"I feel like I'm going to pass out."
"The E.R. it is, then."
I called my dad and he came to watch Kobold while Patrick's mom took us over to the hospital. When he got set up in a bed, he squeezed all the blood out of my hands while the very nice young nurse drained a lot of blood out of his arm. And not too long after that, once he'd been hooked up with some IV fluids along with Pepsid and Zophran, he started to feel a little better. At least, he didn't feel like he was going to start puking up bile (there wasn't much left to empty out of his stomach by now). His whole body hurt, and he still had a hell of a headache. The doctor who was overseeing him decided to get a CAT scan done, so I sat there and forced him to drink the contrast, which apparently tasted like total crap. That was around 11.
"Two hours for the contrast to be effective, and then another hour for cat scan results."
"It's going to be 1 before you even go for the scan."
Monica (Mrs. Lickfield prefers I use her first name) went home for a bit, leaving me instructions to to call her when we got results back. At this point, we were still waiting to hear what was up with all the blood they took. After a bag and a half of fluid, Patrick finally had to pee, so I helped him up and walked him over to the bathroom (only five blessed feet away) and waited while he filled up his little cup, and then escorted him back to the bed.
By the time 1:15 hit, a nice, large man came to escort Patrick to his cat scan, and I was left to sit by myself in the middle of the hallway, falling asleep over my frantically knitting hands. He was back after about ten minutes, and I called Monica to let her know that Patrick had just had his cat scan. Hopefully we'd get results in an hour.
She showed up about half an hour later and sat with us, which was a blessing because Patrick was drifting in and out of a doze, and I was very near that point so it was nice to have someone to help keep me up. It was about 2:30 before anyone came over to say that his blood tests were normal with a slightly high white blood cell count, which wasn't much to worry about. The thing they were afraid of was his appendix, which turned up totally normal on the cat scan.
We were released not too soon after, and got home around 3:45. A.M. I had been up for almost 24 hours straight at this point.
I got Patrick into bed and we both passed out.
Wednesday, Kobold got me up at around 8 to be fed and walked. I was exhausted still, and he wouldn't let me go back to sleep. So, I got up and played around online for a bit, until around 11 when I woke Patrick up. I made him some more soup and he slurped it slowly in bed with the TV on, watching his favorite anime. I sat out on the couch and played video games. After a while he came out to join me. His stomach wasn't too bad any more, but he was still very stiff and sore, and extremely tired. The day was spent being lazy and recouperating. Unfortunately, I did not get to take a nap.
Thursday found us both in almost the same situation, except that I wasn't quite as tired since I'd gotten most of a full night's sleep. Patrick wasn't feeling quite as bad. In fact, he felt well enough to take me grocery shopping so I wasn't starving since I wouldn't eat his soup.
Friday we both had work and Patrick swore up and down he'd take care of himself. I got my butt kicked at work, and made next to nothing out of it.
Today, I had work again and made more and Patrick feels almost back to normal. He got me a pumpkin to carve and I made it into a pikachu.
And now, for pictures to end the post.


Donna Lee said...

Cute Pikachu (I can see it better in this photo).

We are all glad Patrick is feeling better.

Roxie said...

What a total bummer! Any idea what hit him? Legionaires' Disease or the Galloping Never-get-overs or the Shit-storm Flu or what? SO glad he's feeling better! Now don't you get it.