Greg and I took an exciting trip to the ER last night. We joked that the last time I was in such pain that we had to make a midnight run to the ER was because I was giving birth. It turns out that being in obvious excruciating pain, and then throwing up during triage, is a good way to get yourself looked at real quick. Arriving before all the big traumas (GSW! ) (gunshot wound) helps, too. They took us right back to a bed and promised me pain meds, and Greg and I sat in our curtained corner of the ER listening to all the happenings. Here are a few of the conversations we overheard:
A man is admitted with 'chest pains'. I picture an elderly gentleman, accompanied by worried family members, clutching his chest and anxious at the possibility he is having a heart attack.
Nurse: Can you describe the pain?
Patient 1: (silence).
Nurse: What kind of pain is it?
Patient 1: (silence).
Nurse: Is it sharp stabbing pain? Pressure? Dull throbbing pain?
Patient 1: (murmurs)
Nurse: Because it makes a difference! I need to know if I am going to treat you or not, because right now I am not so sure that I am!
P1: (Starts rambling on about the pain- no, the pressure- in his chest. He sounds to be in his 20's)
Nurse: OK. So it is pressure, not stabbing pain, not radiating. Tell me this. Do you smoke?
P1: Yes.
N: How much?
P1: Not much.
N: Well, do you drink?
P1: Yeah, that's the thing, I smoke when I drink.
N: So how much do you drink?
P1: Um, well, I drink when I smoke.
N: (still very calm). OK. What about drugs. Do you do any drugs?
P1: Yeah.
N: Which ones?
P1: Weed
N: Weed?
P1: And, you know, cocaine.
N: So you drink, you smoke, you do weed and cocaine, and now you have pressure on your chest. You think those things could all be related?* * * * *
N: I haven't given her pain meds yet; but they want to get her to the CAT scan ASAP, so let's see if she can wait. We need to get her there before the GSW arrives.
N2: (walks into my bay. I am doubled over in agony. She walks out.) No, she can't wait. Just let them go first, I don't think it'll take the GSW long judging from where it is.
N1: Yeah, chest.
N2: Through and through, in and out.
They rush me to radiology for the CAT scan. The radiologist informs me that they want to get me in before the GSW. "Gunshot wound" she explains. I want to tell her that I know, I've watched ER. Five minutes later she is done and I am being wheeled back to my bay. The orderly pushing me three the hallways is walking quickly, trying to get me out of the way before the GSW arrives. "Gunshot" she explains. My, such excitement it is causing! I ask "Do you get them often?" She just nods. Apparently my physician keeps getting called to trauma, and since a GSW (Gunsot wound!) is definitely trauma, we are waiting on him. Back in my bay!
* * *
N1: Sir, you need to take your clothes off and put this gown on.
P2: What's the point?
N1: Because the doctor needs to see you and make sure you are OK.
P2: (silent)
N1: Sir, let me ask you a few questions.
P2: Why bother?
N1: Do you feel like doing harm to yourself or others?
P2: There is no point.
N1: Do you ever feel depressed or suicidal?
P2: (mumbles)
N1: Sir, make yourself comfortable. I think we'll be admitting you.
* * *
A while later, I have gotten my diagnosis: one massive kidney stone is just about to pass, and three others are lined up waiting to come on out- or maybe they'll just stay there forever! I take this calmly, mostly because, since the morphine didn't work very well, I've had a dose of something "Like Morphine. Stronger then Morphine. Better then Morphine." Also, I pretty much knew it was kidney stones, and was relieved it wasn't appendicitis or something requiring surgery. Greg and I decided that I might as well be home, since they can't do anything else for me. Nurse #3 comes in to disconnect me from the IV and give me my discharge papers, and we hear:
N1: (Much more forcibly then has been typical) Sir! We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way!"
(Greg and I look at each other. "What is the hard way, I whisper?" He replies: "Let's get out of here before we find out!"
N1: Get this hospital gown on now!
P3: (very calm and polite, but very slurred of speech). No, I don't think I'll stay.
N1: Sir, you do not have a choice. You have to stay until the doctor comes, and you have to put on this gown.
P3: Naw, I'm good. I'll just go home.
N3: Rolls her eyes from the side of my bed, and tells us "This is what happens when you ask a person 'do you want to go to jail, or do you want to go to the hospital? Which do you think they'll pick? "
N1: Sir! I will get that police officer to handcuff you to that bed and we will remove your clothes for you, but you are not leaving this hospital!
N3: And people wonder why health care is such a mess right now.
* * *
We leave. We drive to the 24 hour Walgreens- which is surprisingly busy for 2:00 am- to get my Percocet- and then go home. My dad, who almost forcibly left my mother home while he came to stay with Juliette and Cosette (who were sound asleep the whole time, thankfully), gives me a hug and informs me "Just remember: you get that from your mom's side of the family!" as he leaves.
Now I am drinking plenty of fluids, peeing through a strainer, and visualizing my kidney's gently releasing those stones. And appreciating my home, my family, and my calm and peaceful life!
2 comments:
Holy crap, that sounds terrible. What a night! I hope the pain is all over with now, or will be soon, and that you're comfortable again.
Oh geez, what an adventure! Impressed you could 1) hear everything through your pain and 2) remember it all!!! I hear kidney stones are worse than giving birth, hoping I never find out!
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