It really, really does....

Remember all those disastrous visits to my local hospital?

When I visited my Aunt the day before she passed away,  I couldn't help but compare my own experience with that of my Aunt's.

She was admitted to a hospital in downtown Vancouver.....  where I had worked more than five years ago....and the place I was born more than fifty-five years ago.

The building is full of mold in the walls and ceilings due to the poor construction - I know of many instances where leaks developed from floors further up and in fact one or two evacuations due to flooding out of one half of the unit - and that was the newer part of the hospital. 

The entire 6 years I worked there, I don't remember one time that there weren't tiles missing on the ceiling above the central nurses' station.  On the way to the NICU you could look straight up at all the venting and wiring.

For a good decade now, there has been talk of tearing the present building down and building elsewhere several blocks away.  I believe that some of my respiratory problems are a result of time spent in that building.  I feel no sentiment at all despite the fact my life began there.

So, knowing this, you would think that this hospital would have staff problems.

Quite the opposite, depending on what floor you worked on.  I was certainly happy for a good portion of the time on the unit I worked.

My Aunt was on the 7th floor,  the unit comprised mostly of  patients whose last stop it was before the morgue.

My aunt's nurse for both days was a little Filipina gal with a sweet disposition.  She introduced herself and her fellow LPN.    While I sat with my aunt, holding her hand, the RN came in many times to ask if she needed anything, and to ask did she seem to be in pain? and could you ask her in case she responds to you differently?

She was very gentle with her, and in turning her made sure she communicated the entire time.  She explained what she was doing whenever she came in.   She asked if we needed anything for my aunt,  and made sure we knew when she went on her break and introduced the nurse taking over for that period of time. 

Even the other nurses were wonderful.  When I requested a comb so I could do my aunt's hair (she was not sent in with any of her personal items when brought in by ambulance from the home), the nurse gladly got one, smiled and said - let me know if you need anything else....

The IV Team came to start an IV because there were antibiotics going in the present IV and a secondary line was required for a blood transfusion.  I told her good luck - there wasn't  much to choose from - but why don't you put in a small bore where you can and have them transfer the present abx line to the smaller bore and flush the larger current bore and use it for the transfusion? 

By the date on the site, it would have to be discontinued in 24 hours anyway, so might as well move the long term IV over to the new site.   She never blinked an eye at a family member making a suggestion.  Great idea, she said - smiled - and promptly inserted a small bore - less pain for my aunt....easier for her... win/win I would say. 

When I called the next day and the same nurse was on...she came to the phone to tell me how she was - and knew me by name before I even told her who it was.   She knew my uncle - my aunt's brother - by name and told me he had also been by -  plus another cousin.

When my aunt passed, she took the phone when I called and let me know..... and said I am so sorry for your loss and if there was anything that I could do..... and when I cried on the phone the RN comforted me......she wasn't in pain when she passed, and the doctor was with her.......

Some people look at a building and see beautiful architecture and stones and waterfalls and artwork and say "What a nice hospital".    

For me, a great hospital isn't the mortar and the brick - it's the heart of those that work there....the RNs that really care, the workers that go out of their way to make you feel like a human being and someone worth caring for. 

The smile flashed, the kind word, the  gentle touch and the simple gestures .... to those in pain ....it means the world.

And even though you might think that those small things you do doesn't seem to make a difference - I have to tell you from experience on the other end -  it really, really does.

another Hospital Visit. Sigh.

Well, you all know that I have blogged about previous trips to the hospital plus chest pain....

Chest pain.

I had experienced chest pain at bedtime but decided it was stress induced so took a propanolol and ibuprofen,  watched a movie with my husband and then went to bed.

2 am.

Sharp squeezing pain in the area of the Left chest woke me up.  I tried to sleep but the discomfort kept sleep from me.   After an hour trying to get comfortable,  I slipped downstairs, and wriggled around in the easy chair - mulling over what to do next.  

It wasn't typical chest pain that you hear patients talk about when they are describing cardiac MI type pain.  No shortness of breath. No cold perspiration or nausea. No epigastric or back pain.  I did have pain that went down the left arm, though. 

Having a history of shoulder injury with arm pain, I could be forgiven for thinking perhaps it came from sleeping awkwardly on that arm.  

And then there was the neck pain that went up to my jaw.  Hmm.  I palpated my neck thinking that perhaps I had done something to that also.

Denial, denial, denial.  

Finally at 6 am my husband comes downstairs.  Told him he should probably take me to Emergency this am.  I must have sounded really calm and nonchalant because the next thing I knew,  he was going out the door to sit in the hot tub for a while.

Ok.

So, I get dressed, put on makeup, make the bed and am ready to go just as my husband gets out of the hot tub.

At this point I was thinking to myself...."If this were one of my patients, I would be giving them supreme hell at this point for not calling an ambulance...."   I couldn't blame my husband for the lack of action.  I didn't give him any indication that this might be an emergency.  What would he know about chest pain?

He drives me to the hospital and lets me off at the door.

I kiss him good bye, tell him I will call when discharged and he continues on to work while I go up to the triage desk.

"Sit down over there" the clerk told me as I approached the window.    She's busy talking on the phone about that night's statistics.   Didn't even look up from the computer screen in front of her.   From the last trip in with my girlfriend's mom, I knew how this would play out.

I sat in the chair, obediently waiting.  Deja vu. 

Serves me right for wandering in at shift change.  I should know better.

Finally, 10 minutes later, the clerk crooks her finger at me. I sit down on the chair outside her mouse hole opening in the bullet proof glass and  I pass her my information, my care card and my drivers license and tell her I am having chest pain.   She's unimpressed.

She points to the waiting area -  "Go sit back over there until we call you"

I walk over to the chairs and sit down.   I am the only one - except for a cop sitting with a young man - in the entire waiting area.  A security guy ambles past.  I'm wondering if he knows CPR.

Five minutes later the Triage nurse calls me over, takes my blood pressure, pulse,temperature and asks a few questions about my chest pain.  She's unimpressed.  

I guess I don't look like I am in pain, and not wanting to overdo it I tell her I am 6/10.....(here I am thinking it would definitely be a lot worse pain if my leg were hanging half off)  She then tells me to move over 2 cubicle spaces and give more information to a second clerk and get my ID/Allergy bracelets. 

The clerk insists on putting my girlfriend down as contact person (her name was still in the system from my gall bladder incident a couple years ago) - which, at this point, I can see would probably be a smarter choice, however, my husband would probably object.  I tell her my husband would expect to be listed as my primary contact.  She says - so I will put your friend down as first contact - to which I reply - no, you had better put my husband as contact person.

At this point I am wondering if I am speaking in an unintelligible language.... because no one seems to be hearing me.

Having sorted out who would be making my end-of-life choices for me, the nurse tells me to go through the double doors.    There are two sets - one to the left and one to the right.  She doesn't indicate which one, and since she has already departed and no one is at the windows - I enter through the set that swings open and stand there waiting for her.

And wait.

And wait. 

There are a couple of gals talking and joking by the desk - ignoring me - and I am thinking at this point I must be invisible.   If I knew what bay I would be put in, I could probably walk there myself.

 I am re-thinking my decision to come to this Emerg...after the last visit here,  I swore I would have my husband drive me all the way to Running Wildly's place of employ, especially since she had saved my friend just the day before when she arrested in her ED.

Along comes the Triage nurse - around the corner.  "Where did you go????" - she gives me heck as if I were a little kid sneaking around where I am not supposed to be.  

One of the other gals laughs and goes "Oops - I guess I opened up the wrong set of doors"......

I follow the nurse to what turns out to be the furthest bay in the Emergency Department.  As we are walking along, she hands me 4 tiny pills.  "Chew these".   I know what they are without her saying. ASA.

She waves me in the direction of Bay Number Nine.  "Go on in there - someone will be with you shortly".

I sit down.  Again.  

And wait.

I am realizing that five minutes is a long time to wait when you don't know what's going to happen to you.  I think back to my many patients that had to wait....

The RN assigned to me approaches - a Filipina gal, very serious.     "Here"  is all she says as she passes me a gown -  and leaves me to it.  My brain is telling me it's all good,  while my panic mode is struggling with what's going on.  She closes the drapes behind her, and shuffles through my paperwork at the desk.

I change into the gown and sit down on the bed.   The RN returns to take my blood pressure and applies the heart monitor electrode patches to my chest.  No sooner does she have me decked out with stickers, but a ECG Tech comes and does a 12 lead ECG on me.

I laid back on the bed and the Tech jokes about my allergy to latex, clearly marked on my armband: " You are allergic to lattes hmmm?"     I smile at her attempt at a joke but, lost in the distraction of the moment, I don't quite get it right away.  Confused,  I check my allergy band to see what is actually printed on there. 

I am hoping they don't think I am disoriented as well.

It's been 3/4 hr since I walked through the door.  The ER doc comes in and I recognize him as the doc that misdiagnosed me with pancreatitis on my last visit a couple years ago. He auscultates my chest and heart.  Asks a few questions.  Asks about my chest pain.... orders blood work.   I suggest that if he wanted to order cholesterol and lipids that I haven't eaten or drank anything in more than 10 hours.

The RN comes back in and decides she should probably put on a little oxygen. 

In all my years of nursing, I have never had a nasal cannula sticking in my nostrils and decide that plastic prongs in the nose really aren't very comfortable.  Small thing though, in the big picture. 

My RN pulls a roll of tape out of the drawer.... "You can't use this, right?" she comments - and walks away - I guess not really caring whether I  answered her or not. 

Bringing back a roll of paper tape, and without explanation or comment - not that I need one -  she places a saline lock with a #20 cathlon in my hand. 

No gloves.

Blood leaks all over.  She asks another passing nurse to help her pull the cap off the line...ignoring my offer to help.   With the lock in place, she secures it in situ with an opsite square and applies a couple strips of tape.  She doesn't seem too upset that she has my blood all over her hands as well.

Before I realize what I am saying, I am apologizing for the blood.....

The lab comes in and draws a few tubes.  I make a comment that it probably would have been easier to pull them with the IV insert, as I have always been used to doing.   Smiling, the lab gal agrees.  In most hospitals in this province, it's the lab only that does the draws.

I spot the nitrospray in the RN's hand and I know what's coming.  She doesn't ask me to open my mouth, but I know what to do automatically.  Without explanation, she sprays a shot under my tongue.

Ten minutes later, another shot of nitrospray - only she misses and hits my cheek.  Next shot hits my chin.  Third time hits my upper lip and the top of my mouth.  Fourth shot misfires.  Fifth time lucky.  At this point, I am not sure how much of the nitrospray I actually got.   She walks away unapologetic.

Ten minutes later a young man -  whom I will assume is the porter -  comes in and wheels me out to the xray department for a couple of chest photos - standing - despite my light-headedness from the nitrospray.   It's a quick trip and I am returned to my cubicle.

The internist arrives.  She checks me out and asks more questions.   Tells me all the blood tests are normal and I should see my MD and states that they aren't sure what's going on,  and that perhaps - she guesses - my cardiac "arteries are spasming" and I might benefit from adalat to stop it.  

She suggests that I make an appointment with my own MD and that I get him to give me an RX.  She asks if I would want to do a stress test before I leave.  I say sure, why not.  She disappears to make arrangements.

The RN comes back and while she is adjusting the BP cuff, I ask her name, trying to work the social etiquette.   "Oh...it's a difficult one" she replies and mumbles it incoherently.  "Pardon?" I ask and she repeats it - the same mumbling.   "It's a name you people have difficulty with" she says, shrugging. 

I am thinking that if it was said a little slower and clearer that I could possibly try....but at this point I don't bother. 

She hasn't smiled at me once, and up until now has said little and avoids eye contact.  I am thinking how difficult it would be when a language you have to use entirely isn't your 1st language - and then try to work in an environment in which you have to not only speak only in English, but also think and then quickly communicate.  I think one might try to avoid all unnecessary contact in that case....  I suppose it might be less intimidating to sit at the desk, back to patient with the eyes glued on the computer screen.

She offers me a Tylenol.   I asked "what for?"   She says "for your headache".   I tell her  I don't have a headache.....she tells me I told her I did.  I tell her no, she had asked how my pain was and I told her I still had a little chest pain still......but thanks anyway.   Maybe she didn't comprehend the entire conversation?

At this point, I have told no one (save the Lab Tech)  that I am an RN.   From my past experience in this place, I could see that it would put me at a disadvantage.

It's a fine line for an RN to walk - you want to get the best care that you know you should get,  yet you don't want to step on toes or appear to be "demanding"..... besides, this couldn't be cardiac anyway, right?

I have to say now, that I have worked (and been in Emerg)  in three smaller community/rural hospitals in this province,  and 3 of the largest hospitals in this province, and know that this whole scenario is not typical for most hospital EDs. 

I am just glad I am going to get to do the stress test -  and then go home.  The RN wheels me over to the ECG lab.  I offered to walk over but that didn't go over too well.  I did get a laugh out of her though.

The ECG tech welcomes me to her area - after her initial surprise at my unannounced arrival.   I guess I made it there before notification did.   I heard that my space was made available due to two cancellations.  I am just thankful I can get it done. 

Curtains are pulled and the Tech plasters on more electrode patches and attaches the parts to my waist.  My gown is open and in wanders a little old lady from the next booth over.  She has lost her way.  The Tech redirects her and pulls the curtains shut. 

Turns back to me.  "Sorry about that" she apologizes. " I really like a little more privacy than this...."   I reassure her that I am grateful it was only a little old lady.  We laugh about it.

The Internist is present for most of the test and she gives the OK at the end.  The Tech hands me my results, signed by the internist. 

All goes well and I pass with flying colors.  Once again I offer to walk back to Emergency.

Instead, I am wheeled back to my Cubicle number 9.

My RN is nowhere to be seen.  Must be break time.  I am thinking at this point that color coded scrubs might be the way to go, because honestly, I'm and RN and  I can't tell the difference between the MDs and the nurses and the techs.  They are all dressed the same - in street type clothes. 

I can eliminate the ones with the mops and the garbage cans.... but all the rest?  It's confusing.   I don't know who I am supposed to ask to help free me from my IV.

A happy looking gal walks by and I ask if she knows if there is anything else that needs doing - besides IV removal - before I go?  

The RN says that she will be with me in a minute to help me - and  I start taking the IV apart myself....and have all the tape and opsite loose, ready for a square of gauze and tape when she comes over to help.  She looks at me quizzically.   "Are you a nurse, by any chance?"

I laughed.  "Ya - who else would be taking out her own IV neatly - without ripping it out and blood all over?" She joins in with the laughter. "Ya, really" she replies. 

I change out of my gown and gather up the sheets and dirty laundry in a neat pile in the middle of the stretcher.   Old habits die hard.

I spot my paperwork feathered out across the counter.   The RN looks through it and I ask if I can take a peek at the blood work.   "Sure" she says and takes the lab results printout and hands them to me.   "Here you go - you might want these - it's a good idea to keep your records...".....I smile and thank her.

I only get lost once trying to find my way out. In and out in 3 hours and 15 minutes.

Not bad.

It's been 48 hours since my Emergency visit.....still having slight chest pain - not as bad as before.   Good news is - I have been slotted in to see my MD (Dr. Johnny Depp) today and will see what transpires.

I hate being a patient.

I also discovered I have developed another allergy.

Adhesive.   I can tell by the 10 round red itchy circles all over my chest.....

************

Just got back from Dr. Johnny Depp's office.

He just laughed at me and told me I didn't "fit the profile" of a cardiac patient and told me it was probably "anxiety".   Hmm.  Which I would believe if I were actually anxious about something.  And if the pain didn't wake me up out of a dead sleep at 2 am....

Who knows.

He gave me an Rx for adalat anyway, and I suppose I will try it out......

What's the worst that could happen?

I'll do anything to stay out of Emergency.

I would probably even prefer to die first -  before I go back there.

courtesy of jimbenton.com

Trip to Emergency. Again.

I've been throwing PVCs lately and I have finally decided to do something about it.

I just got back from Emergency......

My girlfriend from work called and asked if I could pick up her mom.  Her mom lives just a couple blocks from me in an apartment building.    Just moved in this spring from another community.

I had never really met her before,  but my girlfriend from work talks about her a lot.  The way she talks about her, you would have wrongly assumed she was a little old lady.....but no.   She is younger than I am, but she has multiple medical problems of which I won't list here. She also has a cardiac history.

Apparently my girlfriend's mom had been having squeezing chest pain  starting last night - pressure in the chest going up into her neck.   She didn't want to bother anyone so she continued with the chest pain all night and when my girlfriend called her this am - she finally let her in on it.

My girlfriend who lives an hour away, calls me in tears.  Her mom absolutely refuses to call an ambulance and has no way to get to the hospital.  She still doesn't want to bother anyone.  Her closest friend lives a half hour away and can come and get her, but would I mind......could I please pick up her mom and take her to Emergency? 

I am still in my jammies at that point, enjoying my early morning chai tea latte  -  so I run and throw on a pair of jeans and my raincoat and run out the door - hop into my car and drive the several short blocks to the apartment where her mom is waiting for me outside.   On the way,  small talk ensues and I try to find out if there is anything else I should know in case there is a cardiac arrest in my car.

We get to Emergency - ya the same one I visited this summer when trying to visit my wounded husband - and I drop off my girlfriend's mom, park the car and run back to Emergency.  She's nowhere in sight. 
I ask at the reception if a middle-age (I wince here) woman with chest pain has come through just now.  Emergency reception area has only 4 other people waiting. 

Around the corner walks my girlfriend's mom - someone directed her to the opposite end of the hospital. I usher her to that famous Glassed Off Area and announce to the receptionist that here is the woman with "chest pain".

 I may as well have said "tiny sliver". 

She has my girlfriend's mom sit down - and proceeds to take all the medical insurance information.  Five minutes later....the receptionist redirects her to the waiting area - pointing to the large vacant seating area -  and tells her to go there to wait for a nurse to triage her.  By this time she tells me she is feeling nauseated.

Ten minutes later - which seemed an eternity  - one of the nurses calls her up to the Glassed Off Window and has her sit down and takes vital signs through The 6 inch Space under the Glass Window and asks questions and after approximately another five minutes or more......the nurse walks her around The Glass Wall into the Locked  Emergency Department. 

I am requested to "give information" to the receptionist to complete the admission process.  I suppose that 5 minutes my girlfriend's mom spent with the receptionist earlier wasn't enough time to give all the info they needed.   I tell the receptionist that up until a half hour ago, I didn't even know her name, don't know her phone number and definitely don't know her address..... I am of no further use, and I walk out of the building.  I know from previous experience that I wouldn't be allowed admittance past the Locked Door.

I call my girlfriend and tell her that her mom is now admitted to Emergency and they have taken her *safely* Beyond the Glass Partition.

I drive home....back to my house.   I reflect on my visit to the hospital in Washington State when I had my gallbladder pain....along with referred chest pain.  Totally different experience.   I was scooped up in the reception area immediately upon walking through the door - with a wheelchair by an aide, barely stopping to give my insurance info and whisked into a waiting stretcher and was hooked up to an EKG pronto.  All within less than five minutes.  I was never redirected into the reception area or told to wait for someone to assess me.

So, this is why I am now reflecting on my PVCs.....and subsequent chest pain....and thinking....I gotta stop drinking all that coffee...........I don't want to ever go to that Emergency Department again - especially as a patient.

****************************************



On another note:  I had 200 trick-or-treaters come to the door by 7 pm last night when I ran out of candy (last year was cancelled by H1N1 and the year before we had 139 kids...) - I had no warning there would be that many...... oh well.

Toxemia : 1920s : A Horrible Hospital Stay


   Grandma and Grandpa were married in 1926,  and in 1927 they had their first baby.

Granum, Alberta

The marriage ceremony (one of the several!) was delayed for the funeral of the area's midwife.  She passed away right when Grandma moved to the area.  As she stated in her memoirs ....

 "People thought it natural that I would start with this work" - meaning, she would be the area's next "midwife".

The first baby she helped deliver  was September 1926 - the Roos family's second baby - a boy.  Grampa helped the father in the field while Grandma helped with the delivery and the baby.  "I stayed there for about 3 weeks, did mother and baby and all the work, housework and washing and I remember I burned two diapers by warming them at the top of the stove" she wrote in 1958.



Courtesy: Sharon Strand Sigfuson

 Most houses did not have water.  I know that G&G's house didn't.  Grandpa had to haul water by driving the democrat down to the river - into the river - then fill a great barrel.  I can't imagine what they would do in the winter.  I suppose there was enough snow to gather and melt, so they wouldn't have to make that dangerous and freezing trek to the frozen river very often.



Her story continues.  "From there I went to Mrs. Bosch who was blessed with a pair of twins, a girl and a boy.  After a couple of weeks I went home again and could do some work in my garden."  She grew vegetables for the fall harvest and got milk from their cow which they separated and then churned themselves to make butter.

 They took the butter into town and along with the eggs from their chickens - traded it for other necessities such as sugar.   The trek into town to do their shopping was 11 miles away, which is not far for us and our vehicles - but for them was an all day trip - packing their lunch for a picnic along the way.  In the summer it was so hot the butter melted, in the winter it was so cold it was unbearable...even the blankets and the hot water bottle they took along with them couldn't keep them warm.

Courtesy: Valerie Hinz painting

 That winter, besides delivering another two babies after the twins, Grandma actually helped Grandpa finish the interior of the little house- ceiling and walls, buying what lumber and beaverboard they could in town and hauling it home.  She also told of how she helped Grandpa with the machinery repairs. 

All this she did while pregnant with her own baby. 

The First December baby, she delivered on her own.  The next December baby, she did all the work during and after...and stayed with the family for several weeks once again.  In her own words: 

Tom Hamp Photographer - Granum, Alberta

 " It was harder for me because I was expecting my own first baby.  I was there over Christmas and New Year, and I was supposed to go to the next party [meaning next baby delivery], Mrs Howard who was expecting, but then I could [not] do my work any more.  I had swollen ankles and I didn't feel so good, so I had to see the Dr in Clairsholm and the Dr told me to stay right away in the hospital.  I didn't like it but the Dr told me that he wouldn't help me if I didn't wanted to stay and I had still 2 month to go yet. The hospital was 22 mile from home and this days was not so easy to go by car, and the buggie with horse took to long, we went by train."

So my grandmother was coerced into staying at the hospital with 8 more weeks left in her pregnancy.  And what did the hospital do for her? 

"I stayed in the hospital and I've got treatments hot steam baths every day and medicine*** and milk, no salted food at all for 5 weeks.  That took so long, in the first place I didn't feel sick, second so far from home, no visitors, and no English (Grandma didn't speak English at this point).  I was in a room of 3 or 4 lady's, they just came, get their babys and went again."



some of the old medicines used long ago

  Put into a room with laboring moms who came and went...it must have been discouraging to be stuck, not only in a hospital far away from family and friends....but also, not able to communicate with anyone.  I suppose some people at this point would say - "so learn English - you are in your New Country"...well it isn't that easy.  

Having just arrived  8 months previous from a country that spoke Dutch (nowadays there are plenty of people who speak English in the Netherlands)...and having a husband that spoke very little English also - because they lived in a community of mostly Dutch immigrants....how do you go about learning English in the space of a few months?  I suppose this is why I have a little more compassion for those immigrants that do not speak English very well...or at all.  I am sure, given the choice - they would give anything to be able to communicate their needs. It certainly isn't because they are stupid or ignorant......

"Some ladys try to talk with me but I didn't not a word.  Pop (Grandpa) brought me the English-Dutch dictionary but that wouldn't help.   If I wanted to ask something I took the wrong word with another meaning.  Once I asked a lady if this door was before and the other door after instead of front and back, the lady never knew what I meant so she shook her head."

Courtesy: Sharon Strand Sigfuson

  Grandpa did get to visit a couple times, but only for a very short visit and only when he could hitch a ride in with a neighbour on their way in to town for supplies.  One time the Domine (pronounced Doh-min-ay, meaning 'minister' in Dutch) came to visit her to tell her that her marriage wasn't legal.  I suppose he must have felt sorry for her in the hospital for so long - and after Grandma adamantly told him she wasn't doing the marriage over again, already having gone through it three times already....a fine of $2 was levied against the minister and it was allowed - "but with a stern warning".  

I can see why my Grandmother was frustrated.   I have taken care of women in the hospital for periods of time with PIH and preterm labor - and it isn't fun for them.  Plus -  life does go on at home - and it is difficult to maintain bed rest in the hospital - away from everyone.   But I suspect much of Grandma's problem was due to the extensive work she did around the farm, the edema was exacerbated by constantly being on her feet.   I can just imagine how swollen her poor ankles were at the point of admission to hospital.

Ten days after her baby was born, she was allowed to go home.  Ten days!  So Grandpa accompanied a neighbour with a car to pick Grandma up.....and the car broke down and had to be fixed.  Grandma was waiting and waiting all day for him to arrive......and no Grandpa.  She was frantic with worry.



Thanks to the City of Claresholm's website.  



"I couldn't understand why they didn't come, and so I asked the nurses please phone home,  I said question!  question! instead of ask what the matter was.  O I could cry!  At last the nurse told me about the car trouble and they would come the next day.  The next day came and there was Pop to bring me home, with our baby.  It was 22 miles, Pop was proud of his first daughter, so he carried her all the time.  On the way we stopped at some friends place  in Granum, so it was late in the day before we got home.  When we came home Mrs Bosch and Mrs Kroll were there to clean up the house before I came, but they were surprised that everything was so clean and tidy already.  Pop did it all by himself, before he came to pick me up.   So when at last we came home, they made coffee and stayed for a while"




How things have changed!  And to think that my Grandmother went through 5 more pregnancies, including one set of twins! 

Courtesy: cowboyup.ca

There is still more to my Grandparent's story.......

*** treatment of the day: possibly anticonvulsants/sedatives [morphine] which have been used for >80 yrs, purgatives and bowel washes-chloral and bromide per rectum.  Milk was also a "treatment" because of the calcium which was thought to help.

Hospital Hazards and Other Trips (link to Retrospection)

This is the story I told in May of my trip to my mom and dads this spring - taking my mom for her hip replacement.  

Funny how parents become like kids.....and we become their caregivers.

The Starbucks' insulated cups are fabulous for Hospital stays!

It's always something.

Nurse as Patient

I have a sore wrist - again - so in keeping with the theme....I have dusted off the latest hospital visit when I was a patient - last year.   Once again, I have changed it up a bit.  Original posting was on May 2nd this year.

Honestly -  I have the worst luck when it comes to hospitals. 

Thanks to this site for the T-shirt.

I think that saying applies to me....................

Eating Crow Part 2

If you recall my post of approximately 3 wks ago.....the Experience in the Local ER.....and the ensuing phone calls to the Nurse Manager and the Administration....I did get a follow-up phone call on Friday in regards to the progress in Changes Being Made.

Apparently they are wanting to create more of a "Patient/Family Centered Care"...the latest Buzzword among Hospitals.


I reiterated to her that I didn't think it was unreasonable to limit the NUMBER of visitors (one is reasonable) and restrict visitors with unacceptable BEHAVIOR ...but to limit access to a spouse - the only "visitor" - when she is worried and also has not had any information about said spouse is irrational and unwarranted.

It looks like a meeting is coming up where this "policy" will be reviewed with the staff. I also was told that it was only certain Nurses that they were having trouble with.

*sigh*

Meanwhile here is an updated photo of my husbands fingers. The one nail fell off and the new one is growing in. Coming along nicely. He is happy, since he has been able to go back to his golf game.

Gory Stuff

I am starting to realize there is quite a fascination with "Gory Stuff".

Like Huge accidents along the side of the road. It is amazing how the non-accident side of the road will slow to a crawl when there's one on the other side. You shouldn't look - but you do.

I guess that's the way it is with blogs too. If you mention blood and guts or some other type of gory subject or even just something remotely like that - one is compelled to look.....such as "Don't look at these photos if you are queasy" or "Removal of sutures".

Funny how my blog posts with those types of headings got the most posts since day one. :)

And now, we have to run and show our apartment and get a tenant lined up......

Suture Removal

So it is time to remove my husband's sutures.

I find an old (not rusty) pair of disposible suture scissors and my tweezers and clean them with a good scrub of soap and water then disinfect them with a long soak in alcohol.

After cleaning then stabilizing my husbands hand I grab the one end of the loose end of the knot with my tweezers and I am *just* getting ready to snip the suture in much the same way I have done for the last, oh, thousand years to a million-or-so patients - right next to the nail where the suture goes in. You know, the proper way.

My husband jerks away his hand: " No no no not there......you have to cut it up there at the top - just cut the knot off" - giving me instructions as if this were my very first time.

Me: "Are you a nurse? A doctor? You know I have been doing this for 30-some years, right?"

We both start to laugh.

He's lucky I didn't cut off his fingers.

:)

EATING CROW

If you read the story about going to the ER on Friday, you will remember that I was definitely going to follow up with the Manager of ER at our local hospital, the Administration - and perhaps even further up the chain - today.

First I called ER to give the Manager the story. I presented it in a calm and factual way and requested a copy of their "visitor policy" for their ER. What I got was a sincere apology. Apparently there have been quite a few complaints about the same thing happening to other patients.

The RULE has been in place since forever and it has only just now been resurrected and enforced since the "new" ER opened up this year with their brand new shiny LOCKED DOORS in place. No one can get in and out of the triage - unless you happen to have a pass card. The only way to get a pass card is - if you are an employee.

The manager stated to me that there have been some RNs that have been on a power trip and have arbitrarily been enforcing The RULE without using common sense or compassion.

After the apology, my call was transferred to Administration where my I left my phone number and name. Approximately a 1/2 hour later I got a call back. The administrator taking my complaint was also very apologetic.

They are taking it very seriously. However, I did let them know I was still writing letters and I would be expecting a follow up call.

The Manager states that they are going to have the Educators explain to the RNs in that department that they don't have to be so uncaring and unfeeling about enforcing The Rule. What I don't understand - why haven't they already done something about it if there have been as many complaints as they say?

Surely they can keep a few rogue nurses in line?

Apparently not.

I suggested that having the policy in the first place is a very bad idea.......

We will see where this goes.

The INJURY :( Don't click on this if you can't stomach an injury

This is what my husband's fingers look like today when I did his dressing change just now:





Basically, the resident stitched the nail back on. They say the nails can be saved. Who knows. At least it doesn't hurt as much as it did at the time....but you can imagine the pain....ripping the nails off......... :( Both nails were off, the one without stitches sat back on the nailbed ok, but the other one was flipped inside out so the curve wouldn't allow it to sit down....so they had to stitch it... =^@

Why I will Retire to A Different Community

Ok, yeah. I was gonna stop my blog.

But something happened today that has me pretty upset....and I wanted to run it by my ER RN blog friends.

I got a call from my husband's work. The reception was sketchy and mostly static and I could barely make out what the person was saying -

" mmmffff*CRKL*ffsto-the-hospital-ffftt*crkl!ft-husband--fftd*-hand-crkl-injured-kfhtt-sheared-off*fftcKL"

WTFlip?????? My husband had an accident at work. I couldn't hear how bad, what was going on...all I knew was that he was taken to the hospital - immediately. So after calling in to work for time off part of my night shift tonight, I frantically drove to the local hospital to find out what was going on and to be with him - like most concerned wives would do. Worried sick.

A volunteer stops me in the reception area. Asks me where I'm going. I explained that my husband was brought in injured and I had to find him. I distractedly scanned the waiting area in case he was there, still waiting.

She knew who he was.

I told her that I was his wife (didn't mention I was an RN) and could I please go see him.

Remember that at this point he could have had a severed hand for all I knew. I know I must have looked worried. Very worried. I had been in tears on the phone to my work about it when I called in notice.

The volunteer wandered into the reception area which is behind a semi-circular reception desk and spent 10 minutes talking to the receptionist.....and it wasn't about finding my husband. It was about a knitting book and magazines etc. Finally she got the receptionist to do a search.

You have to picture this "brand spanking new" Reception area that is for both receiving and triage: The half moon desk is 1/2 reception, the other half nurse triage. A huge 1/2 inch plate of curved glass that starts 6 inches above the desk surface - carries on right up to the ceiling. The partitions between each receiving "cubicle" is also glass. When the RN/receptionist takes your vitals and/or asks questions it is in the open in front of all the other people in the ER. Absolutely no privacy. My husband said that when he was giving his information, the 1/2 inch glass blocked out the verbal exchange between him and the nurse/reception - so that he had to speak VERY LOUDLY. He wasn't very comfortable with presenting his medical history to the Whole World in the General Waiting area.

"Sorry" the Volunteer says " the Rule is - no one goes in with the patient"

"Pardon? But - he is my husband. I have no idea what is going on. I don't know how he is. I don't know what happened. I need to see him. Where is he? Please."

Oh, she says (remember - this is the volunteer) I saw his fingers, they didn't look that bad and he is ok. WTFlip? A. How the hell did she get to inspect his wound or find out what is going on with him? and B. Who is she to be deciding his prognosis? I guess FOIPPA (HIPAA to Americans) doesn't mean much in this ER. Still, I kept my mouth shut.

Why wouldn't they let me in to see how he is? I was starting to think all sorts of things - maybe he was telling them not to tell me because it was worse than it actually was.......my husband is like that. Downplays everything.

If I was a drug addict, or acting like a crazy person, or raising my voice and hysterical, or being VERY demanding or rude, looked like a derelict or had an entire entourage with me - I could understand not letting me in. But, I have worked in ER before and know not to fuss....and if you have read my previous blog...you know how I patiently waited 6 hours to be looked at with 8/10 abdominal pain, in the very same ER a year ago. I just don't like to create scenes.

The Volunteer wandered into the ER bed area to see if the nurse would allow me to see my husband. I could see the RN wildly gesticulating a "ABSOLUTELY NOT" to the volunteer. I guess the Rules mean more than anything. The volunteer came back through the doors -
"No - you can't go and see him, he is waiting to see the MD then he will be sent to Xray and then you can see him for 2 minutes and that's it"

No explanation. No report on how he is. No telling me what's going on. For all I knew - he still could have been lying there in pain with whatever. (Fact was, he was in awful pain. I gleaned this information from one of the other patients waiting in the General Triage area - her words exactly, which didn't make me feel any better - "your husband was in horrible pain while waiting to be seen..."

Finally the nurse sees me at the double door and talks to me. " He's had 2 nails pulled off, he needs to be sutured and then xrayed and bandaged. He's ok". This is the first "official" word that I get on my husband's condition. All right. He's OK??? I have had a sliver shoved under my nail and that hurt like stink. Two nails pulled off - well, it is not a hand laid wide open or a cardiac arrest, but still.....

I don't know if he's ok. I still haven't seen him. I plead with them. I told her that I can understand why they don't want loads of people coming in there and the problems it could create. So she would understand that I knew how to behave - I did, at this point, slip that I was an RN. At this point I haven't seen my husband at all, haven't been able to talk to him and I was worried.

I also happened to see the MD treating him - it was the same one that misdiagnosed me a year ago - I had reason to be concerned.

Finally she said: "well, you can go in - but ONLY FOR ONE MINUTE - and leave. Then, when he is finished with the MD and everything - you can see him for 5 minutes only. And that's it". Haughty tone.

I go around thru the doors and to the end of another hall where my husband is waiting in the "observation area" in a chair - waiting for a free stretcher bay. He is still in pain - 8/10 he says - one hour after coming to ER. My husband said it felt as if someone had taken a pair of pliers and yanked off 2 fingernails. He is a very stoic guy. Apparently, in this ER, if you aren't writhing around in pain - rolling around on the floor screaming and crying ...they figure you aren't having any pain.

Does that tells you what kind of customers come through these ER doors?

The waiting area reveals a very different scene. All the patients (only 6 of them) waiting in the triage area were quietly sitting scattered among the empty seats. No one was complaining. Everyone was quietly and calmly waiting their turn. No histrionics. No loud people. All Patiently waiting. Even the woman who was gasping for air. Even the little boy with the big bandage over his eye. Even the woman doubled over in pain in the wheelchair. Hardly a peep. Same scenario both times I visited the ER in the past.

They had given my husband a 3 page form to fill out. Poor guy was in so much pain, never mind it was his Right hand that was damaged. I glanced at the sheet he had tried to fill out. His handwriting is normally better than mine. Sort of - girlish. What I saw before me was a childish scrawl. They wouldn't let me stay with him to help him with the form, so I was sent back to the waiting area to try and fill it out on my own. There wasn't a question that I could answer without asking my husband.

In the minute and half I saw my husband - I had asked when his last tetanus shot was since this was obviously a very dirty wound. Seven years ago apparently. He told me that they told him he was good up to 10 years. I informed him - Absolutely NOT - I told him he needs one if it's been more than five with a dirty wound. I told him he wasn't to leave without one. Now I am really worried. I am sent outside because I overstayed by 30 seconds. I am now going to be punished for that transgression. They don't let me in ever again.

I stood outside the doors. The RNs that came through the doors seemed to know who I was.... I guess they already were talking about the RN wife of the husband patient who insisted on trying to Circumvent Their Rules. Smug knowing faces staring down their noses at me as they walked by. "I know who you are......" one nurse says.

I could see he was led to his own area. I waved and smiled at him, he gave me one thumb up.....and the nurses still wouldn't let me through the doors. He was only 4 feet away. At this point I am sure they were just trying to drive home their point. I could hear the MD talking to him through the door, and I know that whatever instructions or information given to my husband at that point were not going to be absorbed. That is just the way he is. In pain or distracted - he just doesn't hear anything.

I wait another while - they stitch him up, clean him up....put the dressing on.

Finally, he was released. The whole visit really didn't take that long as far as ER waits go. Most of it was waiting. I don't mind waiting. I could have waited six hours or more. ( I don't think my husband could have, he was in so much pain) What I minded was not being allowed to be with my husband. I had begged to go in. I promised to sit quietly - and I would have.

Instead, I was made to worry needlessly.

And what I didn't understand - they had allowed several other people in to accompany other patients. I guess maybe because my husband's injury was something "minor"in their eyes - it wasn't ok for anyone to be with him. Or involve family in the post discharge care and instruction, never mind I am the one that this is going to fall on.

OK. So my question to you -

I have worked in at least 12 different hospitals, some of that in ER. NONE of the ERs in any of these hospitals had a rule that No one is allowed in with a patient. Have any of you heard of this? I know there are times that we would LIKE this to be the rule.

I phoned up my Nurse Manager Sister-in-law, and 2 other nurse aquaintences.......none of which had ever heard of this type of restriction. The nurse that works at this hospital said - and his words exactly - "That's BS....when did THAT change?"

Was it wrong of me to want to see my husband? To be reassured in that way to know he was ok?
He means the world to me, and we have only each other.

Right now my dear husband is OK - now that he is home and fully medicated.

And me? I am now going to finish off the rest of my night shift.

Hospital Hazards and Other Trips

I am back from the "Dreaded Trip".

 I was apprehensive about my mother going to a hospital that has been on the news lately for stuffing patients in closets and hallways and such, so I felt I had to do my daughterly duty, ensuring her safety. The previous surgery (in a larger hospital) 15 years ago found my mother on the OR table, ready for a thyroidectomy when the OR nurse informed her she was being prepped for a hip replacement - which probably would have been a serendipitous thing given the surgery being done this hospital trip - except for the fact that it would have been the wrong hip. My mom freaked and needed a good dose of ativan to settle her down that time.  Needless to say, she preferred that I be there for this surgery.

Adding to my anxiety -  my sister-in-law is a Manager at the larger and much *better* hospital (so she keeps telling me) just south of where my mother was to have her surgery...and she had nothing good to say about the place....so I was just a little bit worried.

Well, all that worry was for naught. All of the RNs and MDs were pretty darn good and the surgery went well with no hitches or mistakes.

AND my mother was lucky enough to be admitted to a four bed ward instead of a closet.  Bonus.   However, to her surprise and shock.... her room was Co-ed. Nothing worse than 3 men on the other side of your thin little curtain to stifle a BM or a fart good crop dusting.

 She did exceptionally well and that next day I dutifully assisted her to the bathroom -  my dad worried the whole time -  "Let the nurses do it" - inferring that I had no clue as to what I was doing.   Dad....I AM a nurse.......geezzzzzzzz.  What's with the men in my life that they doubt my nursing skills?

The other patients were quite ok, despite being the opposite gender. Here is a rundown:

Patient #1 was a medical patient - lines out the ying-yang and a TPN. My mother over heard they had "brought him from the dead".  Doesn't look like they did him any favors because he still had that pasty/waxy look, and rattly mucousy death moans that apparently kept my mother awake all night. He mysteriously disappeared after the second night. 

Mom was in bed #2 - which should have been a bed with a view outside - but for some reason was without the benefit of a window. Who designed this room anyway? If you have the good fortune to get a "window" bed - you should at least get a window with it.

A guy that mom said looked just like her minister was in bed # 3. For social reasons, it was nice he was mobile. Maybe it is just me, but you would think it would be difficult enough to have to have a peaceful dump in a room with 3 guys - but when one looks like your minister......? There are benefits to having a roommate that is unconscious (see bed #1).

Bed # 4 was a younger guy (40ish) who fell off his vacation home roof and fractured his femur in 3 different places. He had an assortment of leg splints, neck brace, bruises and probably a pneumovac - it looked like. I tried not to look in that direction. I think he had suffered from a pneumothorax secondary to # ribs ....his O2 sats kept dropping while the PT worked on him....poor guy...he was a mess. Not so much of a mess, apparently, that he would be transferred to a bigger center. Thank goodness I don't have a vacation home to fall off of. At least, not anymore. Sold the ski Chalet a few years back.

Coming from Good Dutch Stock, my mom is a tough old bird. She and my father have a "hobby bed and breakfast" which they run on their own. It is no small feat - seven THOUSAND square feet with 8 bedrooms and 8.5 bathrooms. The driveway is almost vertical...I kid you not....all 700 something feet of it, and the two of them (my dad is 80) go out there in the winter time and hand shovel the entire drive - top to bottom every time a skiff of snow falls. Keep in mind this is Canada.   It does snow here. 

Last year the snow came half way up their window. My dad has Parkinson's and my mother, a bad hip. You get the picture. Mom had to get that hip replaced.....before the next winter. My parents refuse to get assistance with the shovelling, the cleaning, the laundry, the cooking......we've even tried paying for it. No one else does it good enough, not even their own kids. Old people can be stubborn. Personally, I would not be unhappy if the place burned to the ground. Without them in it, of course.

Anyway, the trip there was nail biting for sure. Snow on the pass. Massive headache. Finally had to pop a propanolol for the anxiety and a Mersyndol for the headache. Washed them both down with a Timmy's en route.  Not sure it helped any.

Did I ever tell you that the worst snowstorm I ever drove through was a snowstorm in Northern California in the month of May?? I left for Canada from Redding at 6 am....driving along in my little gold Mercedes Convertible and not 1/2 hr down the I-5 ....SNOW! It came down faster and harder and snowplows were passing me.....and finally when I got to Weed, the snow was so high it came up to my windows! Needless to say, I did a 180 back to Redding. Eight hours of driving for nothing.

Anyway, it snowed for at least 1/3 of the trip to pick up my folks.  Figured it would.  May doesn't guarantee good weather, travelling over the mountain passes. I counted 3 vehicles in the ditch on the way there.....one massive accident on the way back. Lucky for me it was on the opposite side of the highway both times.....lineups were close to several hours, I am sure. I don't know whether the person in the last crash survived. My guess would be no. The ambulance wasn't in a rush to get anywhere. The vehicle was pretty well flattened and missing parts. How could I tell that it was serious you say? I make it a habit not to rubberneck while driving down the freeway, but one wheel was in the inside lane on my side of the road. \This is just what I took in - in the 3 seconds it took to get past the scene......

I was so traumatized by the trip that when I stopped at Jysk to buy some drapes and a cabinet ...after purchase made, I forgot to go around the back of the store to shipping and pick up the cabinet. I only remembered it 30 minutes from home and at that point I wasn't going to drive the 350 kms round trip and wait in that 10 mile long lineup of cars due to that accident  when I also had a night shift to work that night.

I guess I will have to wait to pick it up with my next segment of daughterly duty -  I go back in a week to help Mom out at home when discharged.

I hope it doesn't snow.

[I was lucky enough to have saved the comments on this one!]

Posted by A NURSE at 1:17 AM

4 comments:

nurseXY said...

Holy smokes, coed rooms??

That's nuts!

May 8, 2010 4:29 PM

A NURSE said...

Ya. Co-ed....they have been doing that at various hospitals for at least 20 years that I know of....in a way it is ok, saves a lot of the moving of beds etc and the ensuing back troubles on one hand - never mind the shortage of either "male" or "female" beds on a unit. No one seems to mind. It just takes getting used to. Splits up the old women so they don't get together and complain so much. ;)

May 8, 2010 10:42 PM

Albinoblackbear said...

Hey--sorry to post a comment that is unrelated to your post--but I thought I'd just pass on...I used the new templates in blogger 'draft' (if you go to http://buzz.blogger.com/ you'll see them).

Before you start tinkering just go into your customize part (in the edit html) and there is a button that says 'download template' and then you'll have a backup copy of your original just in case.

I was wrestling with the photo size as well and since I am no computer nerd the best way I found to fix it was just to crop (on my iphoto) one of my scenic shots into a narrow panorama-type and then upload that version of the pic.

Hope that helps and good luck! :)

May 9, 2010 1:00 AM

Albinoblackbear said...

I forgot to mention--I am glad to hear that your mom recovered well from her surgery. You parents sound like they have true grit! :)
May 9, 2010 1:07 AM

Nurse, Heal Thyself

So I get an email from my best friend who is also an RN (we were neighbors at age 10 -45 years ago! ) and she is all pissy because.... why didn't I blog about "our" experience in the local ER......meaning - why didn't I spill my guts about my visit with my gallstones while she flitted around being the social butterfly in ER while I was writhing around in pain?

Ok- so I exaggerate - but it makes for an interesting story....and my friend loves a good story. We have a habit of rating our stories - 0 to 10 - how good was it???...so we have gotten to be fairly good storytellers.

 So here goes.  And.   Just to warn you in advance.... I have to drive to the interior tomorrow to care for my mom post operative hip replacement.....do the " nurse" thing to ensure she makes it through her hospital surgery.... so I won't be online for a couple days.

I am sure I will have stories when I return.

So last year about this time I was having severe upper GI type pain. Being an RN what is the first thing one does? Yup. Denial. Ok.  This is indigestion.  It will go away.....This must have gone on - oh, say...for a month or so before it got so bad I was scaring myself into thinking I might even be having a heart attack. I ended up working my shifts scheduled, taking frequent breaks, which is - believe it or not - encouraged in my line of nursing work. It actually is a really nice job. I almost hate not to work.

Anyway....I called up my Nurse Girlfriend (I will call her Jan for short), who was an ER RN since the age of dinosaurs just like me......and together, over the phone, we tried to figure out the source of the pain.   I had already tried Tagamet, Mersyndol, Gravol(Dramamine for you Americans out there!), Peptobismol, Mylanta....you name it. Anything I had in my medicine cabinet, I tried. Jan suggested a "pink lady". So, I did some bartending moves with my stashed lidocaine from a previous tattoo (will tell you about that later) and made myself a pink lady. Nope. Still had pain.

What to do next?

Jan suggested Pariet. She "just happened" to have some leftover......could I drive over and get it? (I know what you are thinking at this point....here are 2 RNs breaking every rule...) I was thinking, the last thing I really wanna do is get in my car and drive anywhere.   But - since she was nice enough to offer...I thought I had might as well take her up on it - and what the heck - help myself to anything else in her medicine cabinet – I felt like I was gonna die anyway. Anything to get rid of the pain at this point. And anything to stay away from ER.    I reasoned, if the pain got so much worse, her house was on the way to the hospital and I could easily make a quick detour. No problem.

Don't worry honey, I told my husband, I will be back in a few minutes.....no,no,no...really. You don't need to drive me....I'm ok..... what was I thinking??

I think that night was the worst in my life. Not only did I try the pariet, but also the Ondansetron Jan gave me ($50 per pill) - and by morning I was a wreck. No relief. There was nothing left to do but visit the Dreaded Hospital. Jan had worked in that very hospital for - what - thirty some odd million years....and none of the stories I heard her tell were very good.   I figured at this point I was as good as dead.

Jan offered to come with me to ER to sit with me and make the visit a little "easier" on me, because she stated that she knew "everybody " there - like that was supposed to help. So...I drove over to Jan's and her husband dropped the two of us off in ER and I checked in. I guess I didn't show my actual pain level very well because for the next 4 hours I sat and watched people who walked in the door after me admitted to an ER cubicle with waay less urgent symptoms than myself (how did I know this? Jan did a little Q&A triage around the room, much to my chagrin).

Funny how, as a nurse, you tend to assess people and triage them......which at this point wasn't helpful to my situation at all.   Jan actually knew most of the people in ER waiting to be seen ( ya don't live in the same town for 30 plus years and NOT know half the town) so she was busy  visiting - with a clandestine motive of course - finding out what the others were there for,   and what were their symptoms - all the questions - then proceeds to tell me how she thought I should be going in waaaaaaaaay before all the others.....maybe she just did that to make me feel better. Anyhoo.

By the 5th hour I hadn't improved. I told Jan....ya know....I actually have chest pain....and we both gave each other that deer-in-the-headlights look, knowing full well what that meant in an ER. I neglected to mention this little fact on admission.....what with the pain I was having abdominally .... and now how stupid would I look telling them at this juncture. I complain about my patients that I triage doing the same thing.   I could already see them rolling their eyeballs ........whispering and pointing....."ya know that nurse sitting over there on that stretcher.....????"

When I finally got a stretcher (last patient in the waiting room) I whispered quietly to the RN...I hate to tell you this, but I have chest pain as well.... to which Jan volunteers to the whole room, "Ya and she's had it all along but didn't want to say anything because we thought you would think we were trying to line jump".

 Great. Just what friends are for.

So in comes the 12 lead lines, the MD, the lab tech, the IV and the whole flurry of activity that ensues when someone whispers *chest pain*. Honestly, I really don't think it is cardiac, doc....we told them of everything we had tried so far - every last concoction.

 At least we eliminated other things they would have tried and sent me home with.

When cardiac was ruled out (see, I knew it wasn't) I was shipped off to u/s and a scan was done of my gallbladder and other corresponding parts. While my friend flitted about socializing, I got the news from the ER doc. "You are the healthiest looking pancreatitis I have ever seen......" I guess all he usually sees is an assortment of alcoholics and druggies and such......not your average walky-talky-generally-healthy local nurse.....

I was discharged with a requisition for a CT scan in the next couple days plus all my ER workup and ER doc/nurse notes and an RX for buscopan – which didn’t work. I remember thinking, it couldn't be pancreatitis. It's probably my gallbladder......  of course I was right.  My surgeon confirmed it.

I was due to take a trip to Hawaii the following week and the last thing I wanted to have happen was end up in an ER in Hawaii with the same thing. Should I cancel? Should I go? What would be the worst thing to happen? I was fully covered, not only with my insurance from work and my husband’s insurance - but also extra travel insurance....I could even have pre-existing illness and still have full coverage.   Deluxe coverage, in fact, according to the nice lady on the phone at Blue Cross who gave her advice -  Better to be in pain under a palm tree on a beach rather than at home. So I went. I am happy to say, I only had 2 bouts of pain and they were nowhere near what I had experienced at home, and it didn't even require a hospital or MD visit.

Having got that trip under my belt, my husband and I decided we also take a chance on my health and go for a trip to Washington State to visit his family for Easter. This trip didn't go as well. Second day there I developed severe abdominal pain again.....AND chest pain.... so half way through my husband's golf game I called him and told him to come and get me and take me to ER.

I have to say, my experience in an American ER was quite satisfying. This time I admitted to the gals at the desk that I had chest pain too - "but don't worry - it isn't cardiac...." I tried to reassure them. Actually, an aide at the entrance noticed me clutching my chest as I came into ER, so already had a wheelchair ready for me. She anxiously paused with me at the Receptionist desk, where I took several minutes to hand over my 4 different medical insurance cards, explaining each, and assuring them that some or all would cover absolutely anything they could throw at me.

 I had a very pleasant MD and RN and a very sweet student nurse. The student nurse successfully slipped in an IV - but not without a fountain of blood all over. I tried to encourage her the entire time by informing her "you'll have no problem - I have really good veins...that's ok...we all do that the first time...." I could still see her nervous tremor..... and read her mind..." Nurses are the worst patients...."

Two rounds of dilaudid later........no relief.   I worried to my husband - they're gonna think I am a junkie or something if I tell them it didn't work. For this very reason I had copies of my Canadian ER visit....dx, bloodwork and all (little did I realize that might make them even more suspicious)

I guess they thought I was not your usual drug-seeker - because  I got a chaser of IV morphine......and YAY. Relief. Whoo hoo. Now, can I get this thing outta my arm? I apologised profusely to the nurse who put the IV in - for getting better so quick. By the way, I loved the emesis bag they gave me (much better than those darn chip trays that patients tend to overshoot) and since I didn't have to use it .....I saved it for the ride home, and later took it with me when I eventually had my surgery.

I was given a script for oxycodone - 25 tabs. A little excessive, I thought, but ya never know when this pain might strike again before I get back up to Canada.  

The CT scan that I finally had done confirmed gallstones. What with my pain history, I couldn't postpone the inevitable.

I was thinking about the cholecystectomies that I had looked after back in the 80s when I worked on the Surgical unit. They were sliced and diced from front to side to back, HUGE incisions with T-tubes draining and penrose drains with ostomy bags over them, or drains down to bags or bottles and NG tubes for several days. Hospital stays were usually several weeks not the daycare surgery with 3 tiny puncture wounds it is now.

If I was ever grateful for something, I was surely grateful that my gallbladder acted up in the 21st century and NOT when I was working surgical back in the 1980s!

I will keep this entry short.

Suffice to say I had a great experience as a patient in the "hospital of horrors". Funny thing though. After the fact, I kept getting comments from people about the phone calls I made immediately post op from my stretcher in daycare recovery. Apparently I called up and babbled on and on to my several cousins, friends, mother, mother-in-law and God knows who else.

I chastised my husband, "Couldn't you have at least stopped me???" uh. He thought I was totally aware of what I was doing.

Much later, my husband mentioned the male nurse that looked after me in daycare after surgery. "What male nurse?" I inquired with trepidation.

 "You know, the one you told all about your work in California, and your experiences in the delivery room, and don't you remember showing him your puke bag you got from your American ER visit......"

 I was horrified.

"Ya...." he continued ".....you were talking just normal - just like you are doing right now......"

I NEVER want to be a patient again. EVER.

And Jan, if I ever call you again about any aches and pains......just euthanized me right then and there.

Please.