After a frantic 5:30 AM taxi ride to the emergency room, Tabitha was fully admitted into a nearby hospital on Thursday. She's still there, and they appear to still have no idea what's wrong with her. So far we've been told uterine cyst, kidney stone, Irritable Bowel Syndrome, plain old gas, and urinary tract infection, as well as being told that she was going to be transferred to another hospital where her insurance is more effective (which means she's getting charged ungodly amounts of money as we speak) followed by an announcement about fifteen minutes later that they were going to issue medication for IBS and send her home. (Hint: this didn't happen. We debated later whether or not that doctor actually mentioned his decision to anyone other than us.)
It's just frustrating that so little seems to have actually happened. I haven't spent a lot of time in hospitals proper (more in emergency rooms, and even that is limited), and I'm sure that they do a wonderful job but god, it can be hard to tell. Every order or change takes approximately 2 hours to go through; if Tabby is nauseous and miserable, it takes half an hour for a nurse to respond to the call button, another half an hour before a doctor is called, another hour before somebody comes in and gives her yet another anti-nausea shot. Then there's the mixed diagnoses, which, god, at this point I just wish they'd find something the hell wrong already. I'm afraid they're going to keep her there indefinitely, I'm afraid that all the medication is why she's still nauseous and unable to eat, I'm afraid that she's going to be bankrupt for the next twenty years because it costs so damn much to lay in a bed all day being served gross food that you can't even eat while the occasional doctor who wanders in just looks confused. I think I've been spoiled by those television hospital shows where half the time somebody walks in and spouts some symptoms and immediately a doctor says "Oh, it's this crazy rare syndrome you've never heard of!" Of course, half the time on those shows they're wrong and something goes horribly awry, so I guess I should be happy with slow-and-unsure.
We're hoping she'll get out today, prognosis or no. But I'm not holding my breath.