Will Knit For Bananas
Posted by thedarwinexception on June 20, 2008
Yes, I’m home. Released from the fucking clown hospital, which, if it’s accredited anywhere *as* a hospital, is a direct insult to hospitals the world over.
This time, instead of getting the trainee nursing twins like I did last time, you know, the ones who asked if I had received my “ammonia shot” this year, and who were surprised that all three of my c-section surgical procedures coincided with the birthdates of my kids, I got the phlebotomist trainee.
This chick finally got the needle into my arm, the one with the long tubing on the end to attach the actual IV unit to, and after she did, and had it all taped down, she reached for the empty blood vials on her little cart and tried to attach them to the tubing. They wouldn’t fit, and, luckily, the training person who was with her came back from getting the rubber gloves the trainee was supposed to be wearing before she even attempted to put the needle in my arm, and said “Oh, honey, no, we aren’t *Taking* blood, we’re inserting an IV, remember?”
You can REALLY tell that the employment pool for this hospital is made up of Malonians.
And I really do need to get one of those MedicAlert bracelets that says that I am allergic to Morphine on it. I learned this time (through the trainee who was doing my heart monitor) that the mnemonic for triaging patients who come into the hospital with chest pains is MOAN. Only I’m OAN. The “M” is for “Morphine”, which I can’t take. And I just know that one of these times I’m going to go to the hospital and be unconscious and I’m going to get Morphine. I have absolutely no confidence that this information is written down anywhere in my medical records at this hospital, since at least 5 people came in and asked “Gee, how come they don’t have morphine in your IV drip? I’ll go check that for you…” After the second person, I stopped volunteering that I’m allergic to morphine and just let them go running off tot he nurse’s station, mostly to ge tthem out of the room.
The rest of the mnemonic is Oxygen, aspirin and nitro. And, as Leslie said, the nitro really did help. So did the dliadud, which they kept shooting me up with in lieu of the morphine. The pain in my chest was still there, but I didn’t care.
But I have absolutely no confidence in this hospital, especially after seeing the doctor who was to treat me. He had a few very odd ideas about the source of my pain. He thought it was NOT my heart, mostly because the monitor showed no irregularities in my heart rhythm, and thought instead that it was a result of my “activity level”. Proving that he has no idea who I am. I told him htat the only regular exercise I get is walking with Milo to the post office every other day – which is about 6 blocks from my house. He said that is *way* too much activity, and that this is why I am having pains – because the walking is raising my heart level.
Now, he offered this right after saying there is nothing wrong with my heart. But, I’m kind of thinking that if a leisurely walk at a very slow pace (MIlo has to stop and pee on anything vertical), results in intense pain from the elevated heart rate – well, maybe there’s something worng with your heart, right? But he’s sure there’s nothing wrong with my heart that a lower activity level won’t cure. Oh – lowered activity level and a banana every day – because I’m seriously low in potassium. They gave me potassium pills and an IV bag of potassium – and don’t ever do that, either, because although the nurse said “This might burn…” it didn’t burn, it fucking HURT – like someone was sticking an ice pick in my arm muscle.
But, anyway, I stayed for the day, then overnight, then the next morning Dr. “No activity level” came in and said they were still waiting on more test results and that I should stay another day – which I pretty much refused to do. There were no impending test results that would really necessitate my being there another night, so I told him to call me at home with any results he got after I left that morning. It was impossible to sleep there, and since I hadn’t really slept since Sunday, the simple lack of sleep was going to kill me before anything else did.
The only reason I went to the ER in the first place was to get rid of the intense pain, mostly so I could sleep – and move and breathe without feeling like I was going to die, and since the “edge” got taken off the pain with the nitro, and Dr. “No Activity Level” gave me a prescription for the diladud, I was quite sure I could go home and sleep.
So I left.
But, I *do* need to go somewhere else and get a real diagnosis on the pain in my chest. It’s too intense to ignore, and does interfere with doing *anything* and *everything*. I can’t sit in one position long enough to knit or sew or be on the computer, I can’t walk up and down the stiars without stopping in the middle, and even grocery shopping is a pain in the ass because I can’t walk through the whole store in one visit. Since Malone doesn’t have a cardiologist – in any form, and God forbid I get a cardiologist trainee, I do need to go to Massena or Plattsburgh and see what’s up.
Thanks to everyone for the good wishes and thoughts. I appreciate it.