My Parasitic Problem

Isaac tells me that my family is very open about discussing embarrassing topics, which I certainly can't deny. Maybe that is one of the reasons that I have no problems with becoming a nurse. I have never felt uncomfortable talking about things as they are, and the way I see it, If I can talk light-heartedly with my patients about potentially awkward topics, it makes for a better experience for everyone. No one wants a doctor or a nurse that skirts around the real issue.

I say this as a forewarning, as this post may not be something that everyone would feel comfortable reading, but for those who are not faint of heart...read on. This is a really good story.

Despite being careful about the food that I ate in Ecuador, for a week upon returning home I experienced that horrible feeling that I may have not gotten away so lucky. I spent days curled up on the bed and in the bathroom with horrible stomach pains that could not be eased with any amount of pepto-bismal. My teacher had told us that we might have a difficult time readjusting to American food, so I tried to give it time but caved to the pain. Instead of going to the doctor right away like a good nursing student should, I called my friend to see if she had any left-over anti-parasite pills that we gave the kids in Ecuador. I was in luck. I picked up a couple at her house, chewed them up and continued on my way running errands. It wasn't too long before my stomach started churning and I knew that I needed to get home as fast as I could. I barely made it up the stairs and into the bathroom that day and was convinced that I was surely going to die. I stayed home the rest of the day, close to tears and wondering why I had thought that it was so funny to joke about getting a parasite with my mom. I had likely jinxed myself. Isaac called a friend and was able to give me a priesthood blessing. I guess that in a way I was lucky to be sick as I was able to witness Isaac using his priesthood to bless our family.
At the same time as I was dealing with my stomach issue, I was also trying to prepare to run RAGNAR. I only had a few weeks to train, and due to my complete lack of training the past month, I needed to go running any chance I could get. I found though, that running inevitably disagreed with my stomach and I would either be doubled over in pain or frantically searching for a restroom. Such was the case when I decided to go for a run with Isaac. It was a beautiful night, but I unfortunately could not enjoy the scenery as I had to stop at no less than 3 different bathrooms along the way. Lucky for me the provo river trail runs by several parks with toilet facilities, or else we may have made some new friends that night when I was desperate enough to knock on doors. We finally made it home that night, and for the first time, I seriously questioned if RAGNAR was really something I was capable of doing. My family laughed (sympathetically) at my plight and joked about having to have a port-a-potty on a hitch pulled behind the suburban for me to use during my runs. I laughed along with them but was seriously trying to brainstorm some potential options, just in case.
I soon started to feel improvements, but still hurt, and finally made an appointment to go see the doctor at the urging of my mom and Isaac. Despite my nursing experience and statements that I am comfortable discussing embarassing things, the following few days were some of the most humiliating of my life. First of all, the doctor was not at all friendly and was in very much of a hurry to get onto her next patient. I guess that after 8 years of med school I wouldn't want to spend my time discussing feces either. (But maybe she should have thought of that before she took the MCAT). Then came the best part: sampling. Here's how it worked. I was supposed to supply 3 samples over 3 days time. The first was done in the clinic, but the others had to be done at home then brought in no later than 1/2 hour after you go. The clinic bathroom has a small passbox for which I was extremely grateful, but immediately upon returning to the waiting room, I heard the lab tech yell over the noise, "we have a stool." All you can do is smile at the people sitting next to you and suppress the temptation to either hide under the bench or to ask them what they're in there for-- but of course neither can be done as neither are proper waiting room etiquette. When I am finally called up once again to speak to the tech, they hand me my sample container, which just so happens to be a dentures cup (so thrifty), then explain to me the process in rather involved and graphic terms, then smile cheerfully and say "good luck". Choice words for such an occassion. The next two days I begrudgingly follow the directions, bring in my sample, plop it down on the clip-board and try to act non-chelant as I wait for the tech to come over and take it off my hands. As fate would have itI always run into someone I know and stumble through cordial topics trying to avoid having to describe what I am doing there. The tech usually finds this the oportune moment to come over and run through their whole shpeal again with my friend there listening. I was always tempted to just walk out, but I always felt like I owed my friends some sort of an explaination. And so it went for three days, and for three days I cursed those delicous fruit drinks, and homemade chicken that I had so willingly partaken of.
When it was all said and done I was grateful for the experience. I solved the problem, and may have also gained valuable insight to help me to be a better nurse. I have always said that I thought it was a good idea for nursing students to know what our patients experience so that we can provide better care. But from now on I think that I will be content to just imagine. I have had just about all the humiliation that I can take for one month.