Well, for the first time on this blog, I have something to be in a "fowl mood" about. I was diagnosed with Gastroparesis - or a paralyzed stomach on the 22nd. It started with an undiagnosed stomach pain a couple weeks ago. I continued to have the pain off an on until it landed me once again in the emergency room. I work in the ER, so luckily I was already where I needed to be and surrounded by not only the best nurses and doctors, but also once who were great friends. My hubby came up from his department to offer his love and support as well, of course. Upon admittance, they still weren't sure what was causing my pain. The original thought might have been pancreatitis, but they needed a CAT scan to confirm. I was given the contrast fluid and a couple hours later sent down for the scan. After coming back, my physician came in and told me that they had an idea of what it was. It wasn't that they found something directly wrong on the scan, instead they realized that even after 2 hours, the contrast was still sitting in my stomach and had not left. My stomach was not contracting to pump out fluids. They drained my stomach and the pain immediately decreased. I was put through a gastric emptying study where I had to eat radioactive eggs and was scanned every hour for 4 hours to determine how far they eggs got in my digestive system. They didn't get far. In fact, 95% of them were still left in my stomach after 4 hours. It was confirmed. I had gastroparesis. My stomach would not empty on it's own. I was given medication and put on a liquid diet. After that, pretty much left to my own devises. I see a GI specialist to follow up in a few weeks, we'll see how I am at that time.
Today's "Grandma Journal" question:
Did you ever need stitches?
The first time I ever had stitches was from a dog bite. I had to have three stitches in my right arm after a dog bit me on my uncle's property. He was a hunting dog that was tied up under a porch. We were warned to never go near the dog, but I loved animals so much that I didn't see the harm in going to look at him. How wrong I was. He immediately attacked me and tore up my arm (as well as biting my stomach and buttocks, but those were just puncture wounds). I thought three stitches were a lot of stitches when I was young!
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