A Night in the ER: Adventures and Observations (The End)

With Mr. B off getting X-Rays, I had nothing to do but flip mindlessly through the TV channels (BTW, I found it interesting that each cubicle had its own TV; I guess even when people are in dire straits, they simply cannot do without the boob tube). So, we're at, what? 12:30 in the morning now. Not a whole heck of a lot going on at this hour, which, I suppose, was a good thing, otherwise, Mr. B may have been kicked down the priority in the hit parade had someone having cardiac arrest or a gun shot wound come in.

Suffice it to say, though; I was still freaked out at this point because the hospital remained concerned enough about Mr. B to keep him there, even though they'd yet to pin point any particular issue (although his blood pressure, normally low, was on the high end but that certainly could have been due to the pain and being in a hospital).

When Mr. B came back, it was time to move to the other side of the ER into what was in essence "Observation ER". This meant they wanted to give him a bit more privacy but had to continue to try and figure out what was going on, or at the very least, rule out that he was not in any imminent danger of dying.

So, off we went through a myriad of corridors and turns, past the main entrance into the ER (where two policemen were talking to a few hospital staff advising them to "keep all visitors in rooms, don't let them wander the halls" (I never did find out what THAT was all about) and on through a few more corridors until we got to a smallish but private room, equipped with a real hospital bed (not just a Stryker gurney), a comfortable enough looking recliner (for yours truly) and a small bathroom area (sectioned off by a hanging curtain; yep, I definitely would not be using these facilities).

I have to say upon entering this room that I was more than happy to still have the blanket that Austin (remember him from Part One?) gave me, oh, about seven hours earlier. The room was FREEZING. There was also a white board on the wall with the names of the PA and nurse on duty (from two days prior).

After Mr. B got settled in the bed, the nurse commenced to talk me into going home before I got "too tired to drive". Frankly, it had been running through my mind that I really should go home for a bit; I WAS exhausted (and freezing), I was starving (poor Mr. B was still not allowed any food), there were several hours ahead of us of more blood work and the ever present WAITING WAITING WAITING for news, any news, of what was going on. As previously mentioned, we'd be told, "I'll be back in a bit", or, "Let me go find out what the doctor thinks", followed by a long period of wondering if they'd forgotten we were there. Anyway, I was also thinking about the kittens needing to be feed, the dog probably needing to go out again soon, packing some things for Mr. B (in the awful event he had to stay in the hospital longer than one night), etc.

Most importantly, the nurse told me (when I stepped out to use the bathroom) that it was unlikely Mr. B would sleep if I was there and he really needed some rest. The nurse assured me I could return at any time during the night (no set visiting hours in the ER, I guess).

So, feeling terribly guilty for leaving him there and after many kisses and "Are you sure you are ok with me going?", I departed around 12:45 or so.

I collected my car from the valet (I still find this odd; valet parking at a hospital, are you supposed to tip them? I took out a dollar but the guy handed me the key and ran off before I could give it to him) and drove myself home.

Now, here is an interesting thing. I got home after 1:00 am. I was dead tired. I was worried sick and a bit discombobulated. So, what did I do? I proceeded to clean and tidy the house; to do a few chores that certainly could have waited until later. As I was doing this, the thought crossed my mind, "You're doing this so you don't have to think about what may be going on here". "They" say when a person is stressed/has their back against the wall/feels out of their element, etc., that said person will tend to fall back on predictable, comfortable behavior (even if they usually try to suppress that behavior). Well, mine is doing something, anything, so that I feel I'm in control. Even if it is something as simple as being in control of a clean cat box.

Finally, I couldn't stay on my feet any longer so I took myself up to a very lonely bed. I knew from a recent text message I'd received from Mr. B ("Bring food tomorrow!") that he was still awake and this didn't help my guilt any! I told myself I'd sleep a few hours and get back to the hospital well before six am.

My cell phone alarm went off at 3:30 am. I had that awful heavy head feeling which relayed to me that there was no way I could drive until I had more sleep. I sent Mr. B a text; he was awake so I called him. No, he hadn't slept much because they'd been in and out of the room drawing more blood, checking his vitals, giving him more pain medication, etc. But, he thought he might be able to sleep now so we decided I'd get more sleep, too.

I woke up at 6:00; jumped up, ran around putting together a bag of various stuff (books, cards, snacks, bottled water, toothbrush) for Mr. B, took care of my pet chores, unloaded the wine we'd bought the day before from the trunk of the car, and set off back to the hospital by 6:30.

I dropped the car off with the valet again (this time the attendant accepted the tip), checked in with the front desk, and found my way to Mr. B's room where I found him wide awake, still unable to eat, and quite grouchy (I didn't blame him in the least, of course, but it was still disheartening).

There was yet another PA and nurse on duty now. They told us that the doctor would come in to see Mr. B in a bit (yey, a real doctor) and that he wanted to confer with Bob (the original PA, who was due back on duty at 9:00 am).

To wrap this long missive up (and since you all know by now that Mr. B is fine, nothing dire was wrong with him and he's since been seeing a chiropractor to work on strengthening is back/spine), they finally fed Mr. B around 8:30 am and we checked out about 11:00 am with everyone there still puzzled by what was wrong with him, but, satisfied that he was not in any danger of keeling over dead.

We were both never so happy to get out of a place (I can think of maybe one other place in my life I was happier to say good-bye to). Mr. B spent the better part of his Father's Day sleeping while I tried to catch up on stuff that had gone undone the day before, thankful that he was upstairs and knowing things could have turned out far worse.

Everyone was relatively efficient (other than the disappearing acts and the first monkey man intern who didn't really appear to know anything). Although the place was freaking freezing, it was very clean and sterile. I wasn't overly worried about picking up Swine Flu. I was a bit put off by some of the other patients/visitors but that certainly was not the fault of the hospital and I never felt unsafe (though having to go through a metal detector to get into the ER was a bit weird; I think maybe this was to deter would-be drug thieves). The stay was much more comfortable once Mr. B was moved to the room (and the chair wasn't bad; I probably could have slept there if I'd had to). According to Mr. B, the food was just so-so, but, hey, no one would expect Magnolia Grill caliber food in a hospital and by the time he finally was able to eat, I think he was so hungry, he didn't really care). I can't argue with the convenience of the valet parking, especially as I left the hospital after midnight and would have felt creeped out having to walk by myself to the parking garage.

So, not that we want to return to the ER anytime soon, but, as far as ratings go, I suppose I'd give it 3 1/2 out of 5 for comfort, 2 1/2 out of 5 for keeping us informed, and 5 out of 5 for the most important thing of all; keeping Mr. B alive :-)

Mrs. B

A Night In The ER: Adventures and Observations (Part Two)

So, we sat around in Mr. B's little cubicle room for what seemed like AGES before the nurse came back to inform us that the PA would be there shortly and apologized it was taking so long but explained it was because it was taking longer than expected for him to suture up another ER patient (BTW, I saw that patient a bit later; a young woman whose face looked like it had had a terrible encounter with a windshield). Mr. B asked if he could have something to drink; no. Poor guy was parched but he had to continue to suffer.

We waited some more. About 6:00 maybe (we were called back right before 5:00), a short monkey-looking man (I'm sorry, but he did resemble an ape) came in and introduced himself as the assistant to the PA (ok, assistant to an assistant...whatever); really, this translated to "Intern". He asked Mr. B a lot of questions, poked at him a bit, and, almost (but not quite) scratched his head, perplexed with the situation in front of him. After 15 or so minutes of this, he left, saying he had to go "consult with his boss" (the PA, who, we supposed was still off sewing).

While we sat there with not much to do, we watched T.V. Let me tell you, there was nothing on the T.V. that night that even remotely made me rethink our decision to forgo T.V. at home. Talk about inane programming; frankly, it made me more irritable to watch it than not, but, there was nothing to do (I did halfheartedly work at a crossword puzzle I found in a copy of The Independent). Mr. B wasn't much into talking, understandably. Oh, I also took stock of all the interesting items in the cubicle's storage bins; bandages, tape (tit tape!), various bottles of alcohol, peroxide and the like; pee cups and catheters (ugh) and bed pans. Oh my.

Probably around 7:00, the PA FINALLY came in (along with monkey man). The PA was a much older man; maybe in his sixties. He took a look at Mr. B and said, "YOU'RE 52?" and then asked him if he had a picture in his attic. "Yeah", Mr. B said wryly, "Just call me Dorian". As an aside, I find it interesting that both of my husbands look (or at least the first one DID, don't know if he still does) so much younger than they actually are.

Anyway, after more questions, poking, bending over, etc., the PA, also perplexed, went off to ask HIS boss (the ER MD) what HE thought. Sigh.

By this time, in addition to worrying about Mr. B, I was starting to fret a bit about Lucy at home locked in our bedroom. I knew she'd be okay for a while yet (we'd put her in there around 3:00 and she usually is ok at least 10 hours, if need be), but, she hadn't had her dinner and who knew how long we'd be in the ER? We discussed my calling my brother Jon (who lives fairly close) to alert him to the fact we may need some help.

But, at that point, back in came the PA with this news: WE ARE CONCERNED! Well, no shit, so are we! Seriously, though; their perspective, it seemed, was that since they had no idea what was causing the pain AND Mr. B is not the type of person to want to spend a Saturday night at the ER (read: not a hypochondriac), that they were going to be cautious and run a bunch of tests. And, I mean a bunch; an Ultra Sound, EKG, Cat Scan, X-Ray, urinalysis and blood work.

It was now a bit after 7:00 so I figured I'd better call Jon, although I still was not sure how long we'd actually be there.

The next hour or so was a flurry of activity with various people coming in and out of the room with equipment to do their tests (mobile Ultra Sound and EKG machines), draw blood, etc. The Ultra Sound tech quipped, "I wonder if you'll be my first pregnant man? I keep hoping..." Sorta odd to see your husband's insides, but, I can assure you, there was nothing in Mr. B's stomach save some gas.

Then, there was SEVERAL HOURS of NOTHING. I mean NOTHING (although Mr. B finally got some water from monkey man).

A bit after 9, I called my brother to confirm I needed him to go over and let Lucy out, feed her, etc.

Sometime before 10, the PA came back to say that, although they hadn't yet found anything wrong, they were still alarmed and were going to keep him over night for observation. Both of our hearts sorta sank at that point. The entire night in this cubicle? Oh, BTW, there were several small children in the ER shrieking away; one, apparently, had swallowed something and they were waiting for the "obstruction to pass"; probably didn't feel too hot. Anyway, it was not an environment conducive to anything good. Thankfully, the PA followed his announcement up with the fact they were going to move Mr. B to another part of the ER where he'd have his own private room and toilet. Whew. But first, they needed to finish up with the Cat Scan, X-Rays, etc. AND wait for the shift change so that the nurse/PA on duty could arrive and the outgoing PA could explain everything to them. Monkey man had long since gone home and we never did see Rachel/Rebecca again (she fell into the black hole, I guess).

About 10:30, they wheeled Mr. B away for his Cat Scan. I called my mom to tell her it didn't look like we'd make it over the next day (a planned celebration for Father's Day). I almost lost it talking to her; amazing how one can keep it together for hours, then, upon hearing your mom's voice, start to cry! Well, thankfully Mr. B was out of the room for that little melt down.

Mr. B came back around 10:50 or so. More waiting. We watched enough coverage of the US Open to last me a life time. Mr. B was antsy and starving and constantly thirsty; I was starving and freezing and fretting with nary a thing to do about it. Around 11:30, the 2nd nurse of the evening, a man this time, came in with the older PA. The older PA (Bob) talked Mr. B into some pain medication and the nurse administered it. Bob left. Then, there was a young man standing in the "doorway" who looked like he was 20 and was wearing a Northern Face fleece jacket (I told you it was cold in there) instead of anything remotely resembling hospital garb. I wasn't sure who he was. He came into the room with a broad smile on his face and said, "Hi, I'm Adam from the morgue and I'm here to measure you for your coffin". I KID YOU NOT! I just looked at him, mouth a gape. Mr. B didn't even crack a smile. Ok, ok, not funny, says Adam. He was actually the 2nd PA of the evening, come to hear Mr. B (yet again) explain what was wrong.

Now, I know these folks have to have some humor in their work "day", but, seriously, to say something like that in an ER? I sort of thought that was out of line. Anyway, while Mr. B was going through his spiel, someone else showed up to take him for his X-Rays and, apparently, he couldn't wait (where he needed to go in such a hurry was beyond me; it was now approaching midnight; was he gonna turn into a pumpkin?) So, Adam says, "I'll catch up with you later" (yeah, we'll be HERE!) and left. Off Mr. B goes, this time I noticed he was on a Stryker gurney (we own some Stryker stock; a medical device company). Well, at least there was THAT!

Mrs. B

A Night In The ER: Adventures and Observations (Part One)

I guess it's appropriate it's called an "Emergency Room" because, obviously, one doesn't typically plan on spending time there, especially not on a Saturday night! "Hey, honey, what do you want to do this evening?" "Oh, I dunno, let's say we head on over to the ER and check out the weirdos, rate the service, and have some yummy hospital food?" NOT.

Anyway, last Saturday, Mr. B ended up in the ER (with me in tow). I'll start this off by saying he's okay. Well, he's not gonna die from what ailed him, at least. I can't say he's 100% better, though; and, we're still waiting on some test results and the issue that took us to the ER in the first place is yet hanging around, making its presence known, albeit, a bit more quietly. He has a follow up appointment with his MD this coming Monday so, hopefully, she (knowing his medical history) can get to the bottom of this mystery.

Here's the down and dirty story about the adventure!

After Saturday's Thon (see previous entry), we dropped the Greeks off at home and then left again to run a few errands and have a late lunch/early dinner. I noticed that Mr. B seemed a bit disoriented while driving to Sam's Quik Shop (yes I left the "c" out on purpose); he appeared to be turned around (and Mr. B usually ALWAYS knows where he is going; he's a NY driver, after all :-) )

So, we get to Sam's, pick out some beer (for the 2nd part of my dad's Father's Day present) and I offer to drive. We head over to Chapel Hill to Trader Joe's to get some Chuck (as in Two Buck Chuck, which, at least in NC, is actually Three Buck Chuck). After, as we left TJ's parking lot on our way to the 94th Street Pub, I glanced over at Mr. B. He looked absolutely miserable; yet, in answer to my "Are you ok?" he replied stoically enough that he was. But, he wasn't, that much was obvious. I was thinking to myself, "We need to get him to a clinic or the ER" because he'd been complaining (I use that word lightly, he doesn't much complain) about lower back pressure (not pain) that had been going on since Tuesday or Wednesday and was getting steadily worse. I had images of us having to drive to the ER at 3:00 am so figured 4:00 pm was a better option.

I pressed, and, he agreed to go to the ER at Duke Medical Center (we were about 15 minutes away).

We arrive at the ER (they have valet parking, which completely surprised me but it sure came in handy since I ended up coming and going few times) and he checked in. Amazingly enough, there were a lot of people in the waiting room for a Saturday afternoon. BTW, did I mention it was stinking hot? I wondered how many of the folks (some of them quite elderly) were there due to heat exhaustion.

Anyway, as we sat waiting for him to be called back into Triage, a young man, probably in high school, approached us with some trepidation and informed us he was Austin, a volunteer, and he was wondering if he could do anything for us? Yeah, Austin, wave your magic wand and make my husband feel better so we don't have to spend our Saturday afternoon/evening here (oh, if I only knew then how long we'd be there!) Instead, I asked for a blanket (it was FREEZING in that waiting room; obviously kept such to keep the nasties from breeding).

Not too long after Austin stopped by, Mr. B went to get a soda and then I went to get something out of the vending machine (we'd not eaten save for a piece of string cheese as we were leaving the house several hours earlier). I was STARVING. Well, the vending machine did not take dollar bills (so I was informed by the hill-billy family who had, apparently, been staring at it for about 20 minutes and finally figured that out). Thankfully, I had sufficient change to get some peanut butter cheese crackers (oh, yum), which I shared with Mr. B.

He got called back to Triage for the basics; temperature, blood pressure, inquiries as to "What, exactly, is the problem?" A stumper, which, as previously stated, we have yet to discover the answer to.

After being told he was being put on the "Fast Track" to the ER (a statement which brought visions of breezing through a line for a ride at Disneyland, which, unfortunately, were a far cry from what happened), we went back into the waiting room to, well, wait.

This is when I started to notice the vast array of odd-balls. Ok, there were also some normal looking people (at least two :-) ) but, man, I'd never have thought there were so many weirdos out on a Saturday afternoon in the ER waiting room!

One guy walked by with a huge keloid behind his ear. I thought at first that was why he was there (to have it removed, maybe?) But, upon closer inspection, I saw that said keloid was sporting a huge diamond stud. Who pierces a freaking keloid? Gross! His companion looked like a can of Orange Crush soda; decked out in orange EVERYTHING save a white belt that was not technically in proper use as his pants were drooping around his knees (as an aside, there is a Group on Facebook that I recently joined entitled "Pull Up Your Pants! You Look Stupid!")

Austin was making the rounds still but, sadly, was mostly getting ignored by the people there who were too busy texting on their cell phones. He came back around to us, hopeful that maybe he could help us again. Mr. B asked for water and his face fell. "Sorry, sir, I cannot bring you any food or drink until you've seen the doctor".

We then saw not one, but two people being processed who were in handcuffs and ankle shackles. All righty, then (oh yes, you must pass through security to get into the ER now, just like at the airport).

There were a goodly number of people who had their blankets completely over their heads; so, if you peered around the waiting room, interspersed within the crowd, were people resembling kids dressed up in ghost costumes (minus the char coaled black eyes and gaping mouths).

Ok, so, we arrived at the ER around 4:15 pm or so. Around 5:45, Mr. B was called to go back to a "room". Not too awful a wait, considering the amount of people there (although we sure received our share of dirty looks from folks who had obviously been waiting a lot longer than we had. Well, duh. In an ER, it's not first come, first served now, is it? Go back to your texting).

I was able to go with him (both to Triage and to the "room" (which was, really, a small cubicle with a curtain but, thankfully, it was in the back of the ER)). I don't remember this from when I was in the ER five years ago; but, maybe we didn't think to ask if it was ok for Mr. B to go with me? Also, they did not appear to have any trouble with cell phones being present. There wasn't even a sign asking you to turn off the ringer, which sort of surprised me. I guess the ER doctors, PAs and nurses are hardened to sudden loud outbursts of jangling, God-awful ring tones going off as they are suturing someone up.

Anyway, a nurse, Rebbecca (or was it Rachel?) came over to take Mr. B's vitals and informed us the PA would be with us "shortly".

However, words do not have the same meaning in the ER that they do outside the ER. Similar to what Dorothy said in "The Wizard of Oz" when in Munchkin land, "My people come and go so quickly around here!", we could have opined, "My, people go away and you don't see them again for hours around here!"

And, of course, the wait seems even longer when you're freaked out about what is wrong with you or you're trying to keep your husband from seeing YOU freaked out about what's wrong with HIM. Smile in place, folks, smile in place!

Mrs. B