tl;dr: Signs of a returning infection led met to take action, which mostly involved sitting.

The Chronology before the ER:

Thursday: Wake up and feel a dull ache in my abdomen, the same area where I had my Big Infection a year ago (this fun guy started in my urinary tract and made its way to my kidney). I make an appointment with my doctor for Monday.

Monday: The symptoms have vanished, so we agree to monitor.

Tuesday: I go for a run, things seem normal.

Wednesday: The ache is back, but worse. It continues for several days and is worse when I lay down. No other symptoms.

Saturday: I decide to go to the ER to have it checked out.

Now, Royal Columbian Hospital is a fine facility, but its ER is meant for trauma patients, so people like me tend to have to wait. A lot. I left the condo at 10:28 a.m.

The ER Chronology:

10:28 a.m. I leave for the hospital, which is conveniently next door.

10:45 a.m. I am checked in. The ER is rapidly filling up. No one is fainting or vomiting. Yet.

11:09 a.m. They take my temperature and blood pressure. I can’t see the monitor, but from the expression on the intake person’s face, I’m assuming they are normal.

11:17 a.m. I now begin my wait for blood work. I am sitting next to the gift shop, but even though the entrance with the giant automatic doors in a room over, I still get regular gusts of cold air.

11:40 a.m. The blood work is done. It’s quick and efficient, but I later discover when I remove the cotton ball, that it’s soaked in blood. My blood. The usually nigh-invisible pin prick on my arm is very visible. I am displeased. Photo below.

12:30 p.m. We are now into the afternoon. A guy comes in and sort of collapses on the floor across from me. He might be in pain? He’s wearing sunglasses, so he looks vaguely cool while this is happening. Someone observing this leaves to get help and comes back with three security guards. One of them grabs a nearby wheelchair, they help him into it and park him near the gift shop. He seems OK now> Time will tell. At least there is still no vomiting.

1:15 p.m. I am still waiting. I don’t know precisely what is next, but whatever it is, it is not being rushed.

1:20 p.m. It turns out it’s a CT scan! I’ve gone from no CT scans ever to two just this year. Fun. They apparently have to take you to the CT scan room in a wheelchair, and I feel a little silly in it. The woman pushing me said she was my Uber driver, no charge today.

The scan is quick. I have to hold my breath three times as the machine sends me through and back out. I got a photo! (After I was done, but before they took me back to the waiting area.)

1:30 p.m. I am back near the gift shop, waiting again.

1:35 p.m. I am finally moved to the next waiting area, the inner sanctum: Zone 2 Intake. There is also a Zone 3, but I’m hoping that they are parallel, despite the numbering, and I won’t be shuttled to yet another waiting area. Although the guy sitting next to me is coughing, so maybe moving would be good. He has a mask–but isn’t wearing it. He eventually gets up for some reason and when he returns, sits farther away, which is dandy with me.

2:20 p.m. After the better part of an hour, my blood pressure and temperature are checked again. This time I can see the monitor and my temperature is a perfectly cromulent 36.7C. My pressure is 176/79? I think. I don’t remember the numbers exactly, and I can never remember what’s good or bad, but no one reacts with bulging eyes or anything, so again I assume all is normal. I am told I will need to provide a urine sample.

2:25 p.m. I am given a little bottle and directed to the washroom. I place the sample on a table outside the washroom and return to my seat. This was handy because I really had to go.

2:45 p.m. There is now only one other person here. She came in after me, so hopefully something will happen soon.

2:50 p.m. Success! I am taken to the exam room, where I exchange my t-shirt for a gown and wait on a bed behind a curtain, with others to my left and various employees milling about or walking by. Finally, my long wait is nearly over!

3:42 p.m. I am still in the exam room. My long wait is lengthening.

4:30 p.m. It is now past sunset and dark outside. I can’t see outside because there are no windows here, plus I have blue curtains all around me. It is not as captivating as it sounds.

4:40 p.m. The doctor arrives. Woo. Most of the results seem to be normal. The doctor asks some questions, prods about the abdomen and notes my non-verbal reactions (this time it is my eyes bulging when she hits the sensitive spots). She says they are going to run further analysis on my urine and will have the results in a few days. She asks if I want to start antibiotics in the interim as a precaution. I say yes, remembering the hell I went through earlier this year. She then reminds me it would be IV therapy. I still say yes, grudgingly.

5:04 p.m. The IV guy comes over and talks to me. IVs are also old school to me by now, so I just smile and nod a lot.

5:12 p.m. The worker prods the crook of my left arm. I advise him of my apparently rolling veins. He points one out to me, and demonstrates the rolling. In the end, he opts to put the IV near my left wrist. This is good in that it leaves me with most of my flexibility intact. It’s bad in that my shallow skinny wrist seems to provide less cushioning for the IV than the soft, flabby crook of my arm, meaning I can feel it more. Oh well.

5:21 p.m. The IV drip is started and as before, the process takes about 30 minutes. Another guy comes by when the machine starts to BEEP because I have absorbed a half hour’s worth of cool liquid into my veins. He removes the tube, caps the IV, then swaddles it in bandages. Unlike previous IVs, the swaddling isn’t so massive it looks like my arm has bisected a football. I am forced to wear my watch on my right wrist, and will spend the rest of the evening looking at my left wrist, wondering why my watch isn’t there.

5:56 p.m. I am finally released, nearly 7.5 hours later, with instructions to return at 3 p.m tomorrow for more IV therapy fun. I am very hungry and have to pee again.

Overall, a good test of my patience (hospital joke). I kind of hate my body now. But I do what I must.

When I got home, I ate pizza and kept looking at my left wrist to see what time it was.

And now, photos!