More Tales From the E.R.
People-watching inside the treatment zone just isn't the same. In the waiting room, you control your privacy; back here you don't. It's not just about the gowns and curtains. It's also about repeating your story - why are you here? what's your health history? - not to mention the staff discussing the cases.
When speaking with somebody whose first language is not English, why the hell do people repeat themselves, only louder? Yelling is not a translation tool.
With his shift coming to an end, the doc had to re-evaluate and chart almost 70 patients before he could leave. Each consult request, diagnostic order and discharge created a mountain of charting. He wasn't showing any stress.
The bell announcing new patients arriving hadn't stopped all night. The problem was flow-through. Admissions wait for a bed upstairs. Docs wait for results and consults. Nurses wait for orders to be written. Patients wait to be assessed.
Patients are bounced from room to hall, to room to hall, depending on what's available when you get back from a diagnostic. Once I lost my room, I was bounced from the side of the nursing hub to in front of the supervisor station. I now know more about the technical difficulties of the new integrated computer system than I need to. I know the fax number. I know that if I ever need to call to check on someone in the E.R., 7:30 a.m. is not the best time to call.
I have formed an opinion on the inter-departmental power struggle that impedes efficiency of the overall operation.
Since people stories are always fun, here's a couple:
Meet J., the man who injured himself after too much fun. He may or may not be seriously hurt. From the time I first lost my room, any time I got back to the department, J. was always in next stretcher. It was his level of impairment that made it hard for him to know the date, not necessarily his injury. He was not a happy drunk though. Security had to be called a couple times to restore some order.
Twelve hours after I'd arrived at the E.R., a woman was led into the treatment area. She had been in the waiting room when I'd arrived and I'd pegged her as family support, not a patient.
My mala-dar was way off.
Or was it?
She was very loud in describing her situation. People were pulling coats and blankets over their heads to mute the sound. Eventually, a specialist was called. I know this doc. He's a soft-spoken professional. His attempts to have a quiet discussion with her were unsuccessful. Then the doc's voice boomed: "Let me get this straight. Approximately 30 hours ago you may or may not have had an allergic reaction, to an unknown substance. Regardless, you are no longer showing any signs of reaction. In fact, you had no symptoms of an allergy when you arrived yesterday. There is nothing I can do for you. Try to identify something that you ate or touched or was near yesterday that was out of the ordinary for you. Then expose yourself to it again. If you experience similar symptoms after exposure, then it may be an allergy. The only successful way to treat an allergy is to avoid exposure to the trigger. There are plenty of good over the counter treatments to make you more comfortable in the event of a reaction. In the event of a serious reaction, you would need to go to the E.R. A serious reaction includes shortness of breath, generalized swelling and numbness and fainting. I will discharge you for now."
Up til then, I'd never heard a curtain slam.
7 comments:
All good stories - especially the one about the curtain slamming but I have the story to beat all "no such thing as privacy" stories.
On a trip to the ER, I was placed in the room nearest to the triage nurse. This is what I heard:
nurse: how can I help you today.
patient: well, I have pus coming out of my johnson.
nurse: your what?
patient: my johnson, you know, my ****.
nurse: how long has it been this way?
patient: 2 or 3 months.
nurse: you've had pus coming out of your penis for three months and haven't done anything about it?
patient: well, I was afraid it might be HIV, gonnorhea, or something like that.
nurse: have you been exposed to any sexually transmitted diseases?
patient: I'm not sure, what does that mean?
nurse: well, can you pee?
patient: huh?
nurse: can you pee ?...into a cup so that we can send it for testing.
patient: sure, okay.
I was being infused with drugs at the time so couldn't get up to see who this person was so that I could tell all my friends who visit Little Texas, a local nightclub, not to sleep with him.
Instead, my husband arrived, I told him the story and he went out to stand by the bathrooms to see who came out.
YUCK!
You could not pay me enough to sit with a straight face through this day in and day out. That nurse earned his keep that day, I tell ya'.
Did you finally get treatment? How long were you at emerg? - it sounds like longer than the 12 hrs. you mentioned.
Anon #1 - I hope the mayor recovers well from his {ahem} illness.
Anon #2 - We had an agreed-upon treatment plan before I left. You think that I wouldn't stick around for treatment? Sure it crossed my mind, but wasn't really an option.
Total time in E.R. = 19 hrs.
Time spent with dead cell phone battery = 15 hrs.
LifeLesson Learned - charge cell phone before going to E.R.
Front line workers in the E.R. deserve medals. It is a very tough job.
I swear, I was here and left a comment...
We have spent countless hours in the ER. Once, when Jessica was very sick, and only semi-concious, we were seen after a child that had an asthma attack. Now, I am not a doctor, BUT it seems to me that if the child can climb chairs, pull her sisters hair, scream at the top of her lungs, she is doing ok.
Another time, Jessie had a b.g of 1.6 and was still talking and chattering away. I tried to tell the nurses that she does go that low without showing symptoms, but they didn't listen until they did 4 tests of their own. You should have seen them scramble for some oj then! :)
Now, I avoid that place as much as possible. The last time that we took Jessie in, I phoned ahead, and the doc met us right in the childrens ward.
What a difference!
Lest someone misinterpret the "called the doc and he met us...", readers should know that the girl was very unwell, had recently been seen by a doc and ended up staying a week (Christmas week) as an in-patient.
She's doing much better now.
And B- guess my posts are running together on you - you're thinking of the drug reaction story, I think.
Here's one for the list: isn't it amazing how hospitals refuse to tell you anything about anyone, citing privacy laws. Yesterday I was seeing a specialist at the hospital for the first time. The receptionist interviewed me at the front counter with 10 other patients and staff within easy ear-reach. "OK (name), have you ever been given a general anaesthetic for surgery?" she asked. I answered yes. She wanted to know every instance of my generals..... um..... never mind hiding behind privacy laws -- what about protecting people's ACTUAL privacy? Is there somewhere private where we can talk? Remember when the doctor used to ask the questions?
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