Monday, February 7, 2011


Oy, what a weekend! The Hubby wound up in the Emergency Room Friday. If you've never had the pleasure of a trip to the ER yourself or with someone else, you are truly missing out on one of life's great pleasures. Yes, I jest.

I can't think of anything worse. Really, nothing worse on this earth. Well, I suppose the raining fire of armageddon could be worse, but it would be a close race. First, you wait. You wait a long time. I mean, unless you are actively having a heart attack or bleeding profusely from your severed appendage, you wait. I understand the concept of triage, I just don't think they have quite perfected it yet. We waited for 3 hours before The Hubby was taken back to his ER Bay.

While we waited, I do have to say we were entertained. A gentleman who was being detained in the ER by law enforcement officials attempted an escape. He tried to walk right out the front door in his gown and bare feet into freezing cold weather. They managed to catch him before he made it out of the parking lot. I guess whatever it was he was being detained for was far worse than risking frostbite or ridicule from wearing clothing with no back in it.

Once we were seen by a doctor, with the last name of a fish-eyed character from The Return of the Jedi (hint: "It's a trap!), things moved no faster. Tests were ordered and I had time to leave, go home, pick up the pup, take her for a long walk,  feed her, see that she was settled in her crate, and still get back to the hospital before the testing was complete.

I had time to go eat dinner while The Hubby was having his CAT Scan. People seem to always want to complain about hospital food, but the food was amazing. It was like a college food court. The was a grill station, a salad station, a huge selection of fresh-made deli sandwiches, desserts, you name it. I am thinking about going by sometime for dinner without the ER visit.

I interrupt this post for something more important.

I just received a call from someone I would consider a dear friend. She now lives in Las Vegas (My least favorite place on earth) with her husband. She called to tell me she had been diagnosed today with blood clots. She called not only to inform me, but because she was totally freaking out about it, and knew that I myself had gone through the exact same thing a little over a year ago.

She, like me, had been told by every medical professional that it's the "Kiss of Death". "If the blood clots don't kill you the treatment of them will!" Once I had calmed her down and also assured her that one day she probably will have children despite what she'd been told by the doctors, it reminded me way too much of my own experience and of how much respect I have lost for the medical profession on a whole.

I am disheartened that today's doctors think it is more important to scare the living crap out of you making sure you are aware of the worst case scenario in order to make sure they aren't sued for something. I mean, you should never tell a healthy 25 year old woman that she will never have children unless you know 180% that she will never have children. That's just mean.

Our medical system has become mean. Drug companies have begun to use scare tactics to sell pills, insurance companies sit back and "judge" who has the right to medical care, and unfortunately it all filters downhill eventually to the doctors and nurses directly responsible for our care.

I now return you to my regular posting, already in progress...

Back to the ER Bay I went to find The Hubby back from his CAT Scan. At this point we were just waiting for the results from all the tests. This would turn out to be another two and half hours. During which time Peter was wheeled into the ER. Peter, whom everyone seemed to know, was a drunk. I would equal him to Andy Griffith's Otis. He had been here many times in this inebriated state. While the one nurse was updating his records, she said, "I have everything here but his date of birth." Mary Jo, one of the other nurses turned to her and said, "The date the devil was spawned, that is his date of birth!" Suddenly I was watching an episode of Nurse Jackie.

Another drunk was rolled in about 20 minutes later. Turns out he and Peter knew each other. What commenced was a circus of them trying to talk loudly and drunkenly to one another. Then they tried to visit one another's Bays. All of this was met by the security guards, the police and the poor nurses with much resistance. I sat there watching the farce, sipping on the "To Go" cocktail I had smuggled in with me in my sports drink bottle wondering the entire time if I wasn't secretly sneaking a peek into my own future.

The "Fast Talking Return of the Jedi" doctor returned with the results of the tests and declared that they couldn't do anything for The Hubby. He needed to find a specialist and the best they could offer were some drugs to combat his nausea.

I wish I could say that it was 7 hours well spent, but I can't. The entire time in the Bay all I wanted to do was press this well displayed button.

I really just wanted to see what would happen. There is a part of me tho, that is sure nothing would have.


  1. Well I hope Hubby ends up okay. I can sympathize with trips to the ER...although it's normally to pick up my grandmother or because I've hurt myself.

    Interesting that the food was good. Was this at the new hospital?

  2. Yes, it was the brand-spankin-new hospital.