The Swine Flu Diaries: The Constitutional Phase

Tuesday

It was very early Tuesday morning. After the realization that I was really sick on Monday night, Mrs. Lone Coyote had made me a nice meal and tucked me into bed. But I could not sleep. My lower back was killing me. It was this odd pain, right in the middle of my back, that did not get better with position changes. It felt like a pig was standing on my back, digging its hooves into my vertebrae, and taking revenge for all of the bacon and carnitas I have enjoyed in the past decade. And the fever was out of control. I was burning up, sweating through my pajamas, and shaking with chills. It was awful.

As I dozed in and out of consciousness, I suddenly realized that Mrs. Lone Coyote was up and taking her temperature. Oh no, she now had the flu too, and seemed just as miserable as I was. While I was really sad that I had given her this badness, I was secretly happy that I might have some company staying home.

Misery loved company indeed when we finally got out of bed. Tuesday was spent with both of us flopped on the couch, sweating and groaning, mindlessly staring at DVDs of The L Word all day long. Boy, that show has just gotten terribly melodramatic and tedious in its later seasons. But I digress.

Remember that headache I'd had the previous day? It morphed into a monster that took over my entire head and neck and that Tylenol would not touch at all. Even my eyes hurt. And then there was the nausea that seemed to accompany it at all times. I have never had migraines, thank goodness, but if they are anything like that headache, I can maybe begin imagine the suffering that they cause.

We were in hell on the couch and nothing could was making it any better. Every fiber of my body ached and burned. I tried to stay hydrated and finally emailed my primary care physician inquiring about getting some Tamiflu. Could a day pass any more slowly than this one, I wondered?

The Swine Flu Diaries: So It Begins

Monday

I woke up exhausted but thought nothing of it since I was on call and had worked much of the weekend. It had been hot as hell and hard to sleep in the heat. Grumbling, I threw on my scrubs, grabbed my chai, and raced out the door. It was a signout day for me, so I got in and busied myself getting my cases in order and tracking down missing slides. Even after the chai I had a headache brewing, so grabbed some Tylenol from the communal painkiller bins on my way to signout. "Gonna be one of those weeks, huh," one of my colleagues smirked at me. "Yeah, looks that way," I said. I had no idea what was coming.

It was my last day on surgicals and I was hoping to have a quick signout with not a lot of cases hanging over into my elective month. However, it quickly became clear that many of my cases were not as straightforward as I had hoped. Most of the morning flew by as we were engrossed by cases. I barely noticed that my head still hurt a bit and I was surprised to learn it was lunchtime as I was not that hungry. But I had some very nice tofu and brown rice and it was back to work.

About mid-afternoon things really started to drag. Or at least they seemed to. My headache had gotten worse. It seemed almost like I had not eaten enough for lunch and was hypoglycemic. I felt scattered and exhausted, but chalked it up to the end of a hard month and a rough day. Signout is pathology's equivalent of rounding: presenting patient history, getting pimped a bit, learning about findings. If your head is not in the game, it gets very, very painful.

By the time signout ended in the early evening I was starting to think something was wrong. I was chilled, the headache was even worse, and I was starting to have body aches. Still, I told myself, I would feel better if I could go home, go to bed early,and catch up on sleep. I forced myself to dictate all of my cases, clean out my work space, and move my stuff to prepare for the new rotation starting the next day. Driving home from the hospital I began to sweat, to feel nauseous, and to have rigors. Now I knew there was something really wrong.

The thermometer sealed the deal when I got home. 102.2 degrees F. "Crap," I said to Mrs. Lone Coyote, "I think I have the flu." Time to call my chief resident and collapse into bed. And so the influenza odyssey began.

The Swine Flu Diaries: Prologue

I have spent the last six days completely knocked out by influenza. Based on my symptoms and the infection patterns locally, I was told that I most likely had H1N1. But given that the treatment is the same, no one was going to bother to test me. As the fog slowly dissipates from my brain, I thought I would try to piece together the events of the past week. Hopefully, it will be entertaining and can shed some light on the virus that has recently captivated the public with its with dire pandemic predictions. So fry up some bacon, sit back, relax, and enjoy my swine flu tales of woe.

At the Cafeteria

It was going to be a late night for me, so I decided to head down to the cafeteria to spend some of my food allowance at the salad bar. I got my salad and a drink and headed for the registers. Being almost 8 pm there was only one register open and a long line. I got in line behind a very tall guy who was wearing special monogrammed scrubs that only certain people in the OR wear.

On a side note, there are so many different colors of scrubs in the hospital, that I cannot keep them all straight. Most residents tend to wear the standard issue scrubs from the scrub machines.

Anyway, I was standing there, sort of spacing out and watching a mom with some cute kids by the napkin dispensers. All of a sudden I hear "whoa, you snuck up on me!" It took me a minute it realize it was the tall guy in front of me, sort of peering down with this strange look on his face. I guess I was short enough that he did not notice me get in line behind him? He eyed my scrubs and my badge and said, "ah, you're sneaky, you must be an anesthesiologist!"

Puzzled, I responded, "uhh... no, I'm not an anesthesiologist." He looked surprised. "You aren't," he asked. "Uhhh... no, I'm a pathologist," I said.

His eyes lit up and he broke into a big grin. "Ahh, pathology, that explains it," he said. "Then you're sneaky and creepy!"

Must-Read Article

Strained by Katrina, a Hospital Faced Deadly Choices

The New York Times Magazine has a riveting account of what happened inside New Orleans' Memorial Medical Center during Hurricane Katrina. It raises a ton of ethical questions that I hope to never have to think about on the spot. But the reality is we all may have to someday. This is definitely one of the more thought-provoking medical articles I have read in awhile.

Formalin

In anatomy lab in medical school I remember being told that breathing in the vapors for hours while dissecting our cadavers could make one feel hungry. It did seem to work for awhile. Not anymore. There is quite a lot of unused money on my food card these days. Now I spend so much time around formalin that I can smell it long after I leave the gross room behind for the day. I'll be at home and get a quick whiff, even after showering. It is very bizarre, and probably not a good thing.

States Update

I was just trying to tally up all of my travels around the U.S. and found a new map for tracking. 40 down, 10 to go. I have vacation in a few weeks, but I am going to re-visit some of my favorite destinations in the Southwest, so I doubt I will knock anymore off. Louisiana would be a long drive away.


visited 40 states (80%)
Create your own visited map of The United States or vertaling nederlands duits?