Tales From The Hospital Room

In ER early Saturday

The fastest way to get attention in the ER 

is to utter the words, "chest pain.”
― Brenda Priddy

I'll concede that I didn't want them to admit me to the hospital Saturday.  In all honesty, I thought that they would do an EKG and some blood tests, figure out whether I had a heart attack or not, and either take care of it or let me go home.  I have always been naive.  At one point I asked Dr. Taylor if she really had to admit me.  "You're a grown-up," she snapped back at me. "I can't make you stay, but you have a 10% chance of having a heart attack if you don't. Do you want to take that chance?"  I said nothing, and by remaining silent gave my ascent, I guess.

Before the CNA wheeled me to my room, Mike the Nurse told me that it was best that they watch me and that I'd be first on the nuclear medicine list on Sunday morning.  "They start at 8:00," he told me. What could I do?

Don't Eat, Drink, or FallAll of the rooms at St. Rose San Martin are private, which is nice.  My room was on the third floor and had a beautiful view of the Las Vegas Strip (below).  It was across the hall from the nurses' station, which was not too great because every time a patient rang his/her call button, all of us in that area could hear the nine-note beep loud and clear.  Yes, nine notes. Do. Do. Do. Do. Dododododo.

A nurse admitted me to the floor and told me that I was not to get up by myself.

"Why?" I wanted to know.

"You're a fall risk," she answered as she snapped the yellow FALL RISK bracelet to my arm.

"I've been walking in ER all day by myself," I retorted.

"Not up here," she said and snapped the red ALLERGY bracelet next to the FALL RISK. She hung a FALL RISK poster on the door and added one that advised NO FOOD OR DRINK AFTER MIDNIGHT.  "Don't eat or drink anything after midnight," she told me, "or they won't be able to do the test in the morning."

As Mike the Husband was leaving, I asked him to close the door so I wouldn't hear that "dodo" all night.  With the door closed, I was also able to get up and move around without asking permission of my medical guard...not that I really had anywhere to go.  I fell asleep pretty quickly, but May the Night Nurse came in at 8:00 to do her rounds.  "Don't eat or drink anything after midnight," she advised me. "You'll have the nuclear stress test first thing in the morning."  She wrote NO FOOD OR DRINK AFTER MN on the whiteboard in my room.  I was surprised I didn't get a bracelet announcing that.

Evening view from my room

Who Needs Rest in a Hospital?
I fell asleep again only to be awakened by the squeaking of the door.  It was a little after 10:00.  Christina the CNA stuck her head in the door and said, "Don't eat or drink anything after midnight. You have a stress test in the morning."  I snapped back, "I KNOW," and turned over to try to fall asleep again.

The squeaking door awakened me once again, and I looked at the clock. 11:00.  "Hi," sang May the Night Nurse.  "I'm going to do your vitals early so you can get to sleep without being disturbed at midnight."  I stuck out my arm and let her do the BP thing.  "Don't eat or drink anything after midnight," she sang as she walked out of the door.  If I'd had something , I would have thrown it at the door.  Instead, I got up, walked around the room for a few minutes, and had a drink from my warm Coke Zero.

When the door's squeaking woke me again at 4:00, I expected to see May the Night Nurse with her little cart of vital-taking machines.  Instead, a gal came in to take blood.  I was still awake 30 minutes later when Christina the CNA came in to do vitals.

If you've ever been in the hospital, you know that the nurses come do vitals and the phlebotomists take blood at any time of the day or night.  I know I am not alone in wondering why hospitals require this intrusion for every patient all through the night.  Please, nurses and doctors, do not get upset.  I know that some conditions may require it, but everyone?  What would taking my blood at 4:00 am show that taking it at 6:00 am wouldn't?  And, I was on telemetry, so if there were a problem with my pulse and BP, it would show and a nurse could then come in at that point.


Does Anyone Around Here Know Anything?
I don't want to bore you with a blow-by-blow description of my wait for the stress test.  Let me say this, though.  Remember how Mike the Nurse and May the Night Nurse told me I'd have the stress test early in the morning?  Right.  Apparently they were thinking that the nuclear medicine department operated on Mumbai time because the med tech didn't come for me until, well, let me tell you.

A little after 8, Jenny the Day Nurse came in to do vitals.  "When will they come and get her?" Mike asked.  Jenny the Day Nurse said she wasn't sure but that they started at 8 am.  "So, is they should come up soon?" he continued.  She said it depended on whether they had to do any stress tests from ER first. That got my attention.

"Excuse me," I snapped.  "I was in ER yesterday and they didn't do it for me."  I was not happy.  I had a headache from lack of food, water, and mostly caffeine. Jenny the Day Nurse shrugged, admitted she didn't know, and shuffled off to do vitals elsewhere.  She reappeared around 9:00 to see how I was doing.  The headache worse, I begged her to find out when nuc med would come for me.

"You want me to call them?" She seemed incredulous.

"My head is splitting," I whined.  "Please."  At 9:30, Jenny the Day Nurse walked back into my room and said that the nuclear medicine tech said it would be between 12 and 1 before they came to get me.  "I cannot survive until even 12 with this headache," I moaned.  "Please. I need an aspirin."

"I'll see if I can give you Tylenol," she said.

"It doesn't work," I replied.  "I want aspirin."

"Do you want Oxycontin or Morphine?"  

"No-wha," I grumbled.  "I want aspirin.  Simple aspirin."

"Just aspirin."  The words trailed her out of the room.

View from my room during the day

I freely admit that I am addicted to caffeine.  If I do not have some bit of caffeine early in the morning, I start to get a horrible headache.  Horrible does not do justice, actually.  If you get migraines, you know what I mean.  Those headaches feel as though someone has put your head in a vise and, while tightening it, pounds on it with a sledgehammer.  Add in the nausea, the light sensitivity, and the eye pain, and the sufferer is having less than a pleasant day.

By 10:30, Jenny the Day Nurse had not reappeared.  "Please," I begged Mike the Husband.  "I have to walk a bit to get some fresh air. Maybe that will help."  I ripped the compression leg wraps off of my calves and asked him to unplug the machine.  "I cannot stand these things any longer. " (The compression circulation machine is another story altogether. Sigh.)

Mike the Husband held me as I stumbled out of the room.  Jenny the Nurse saw me and ran over to me.  "Are you okay?" she asked. "I haven't heard from the doctor yet."

"No, I'm not okay." I started crying.  I won't go through the whole conversation, but she finally said she'd call the doctor again.

Almost 45 minutes later, she shoved her vital machines into my room.  "The doctor said I can give you one aspirin," she announced. She handed me a cup of water and a tiny cup that held one aspirin. "Drink only enough to push it down."  She typed something into the computer and huffed out.

Even Angels Have Tempers, I
The squeaking door woke me up, and I saw it was 12:45.  Mike the Husband walked in.  He was furious. "I gave them 15 minutes," he told me.  I just looked at him. The pain behind my eyes was gone, but my head was still splitting.  I got up and walked toward the door.  "What are you going to do?" he asked me.

"I'm going to tell them to take this d@mn IV thing out of my arm so we can go." I opened the door and almost bumped into Jenny the Day Nurse.

"They're coming for you right now," she told me.

"What is right now?" I asked her.  "Another hour?"  She moved out of the doorway to reveal a guy and a wheelchair behind her.

"He's here right now," she said.

They helped me into the wheelchair, and Gio the Tech took off before I could refuse to go.

"I hope I don't throw up on the way down there," I said to him.  Gio the Tech said nothing.


Next: Angels really do have tempers.

Note for those not from Las Vegas: If you look at the photo I took from my room during the day, you'll see a mountain in the background. Sunrise Mountain, as we call it, is 28-30 miles from the hospital.  The mountain, which is actually Frenchman Mountain, resembles a man lying down.  You can see his head to the left and his torso to the right.