My First Hospital Visit

Hospital. I freaking hate hospitals. I hate needles even more. I knew I was in pretty bad shape though and needed to go, but it didn’t make it any easier.

Cankles

I was scared. On one hand, if I’m not really really sick, then what the heck is going on with my body?  On the other hand, what if I am really really sick?  Catch 22.  I’ve always been under the impression that hospitals are for people who are in a life and/or death situation. I wasn’t bleeding profusely. I wasn’t having a heart attack or stroke. I didn’t feel like I warranted going to the hospital. But then, that was just me trying to get out of the IV, lab work and 50,000 questions.

We went to the ER at Doctors Hospital. From the second I hit the door, they all acted like there wasn’t a problem at all. I got the impression that the only way I was going to get their real attention was to come in with third degree burns or bullet holes. 

The Needle Nazi got the IV in successfully, despite the massive swelling and dehydration. Then she drew labs and asked me the same generic questions they ask everyone. History, symptoms, medications, etc. etc.  Then the ER attending came in all cocky and arrogant like and introduced himself.  A young guy, younger than me anyway.. maybe mid thirties if he’s one day out of diapers. Even though at the time I was 38 years old, I still see 18 in the mirror, no matter what the hell my body screams otherwise. So this young whipper snapper strides in, inspects my legs, asks me a couple of questions the damned Needle Nazi just asked, then abruptly leaves.

Not 30 minutes later, he pops his head in the door. He has an eager look on his face, almost like my situation is now more interesting and he’s taking a little bit more interest in solving the mystery.  He says, “Mrs. Cawley, I got your lab results. Did Dr. Bee-ach ever run a urinalysis on you?”  I said, “Nope. No one has ever asked me to pee in a cup.”  He says, “Okay, lets get one.” And he leaves again.

Five minutes later, the nurse pops back in and gives me a clear plastic cup.  My husband helps me up and to the bathroom two doors down. I struggle to get my pants down, ready, aim and pee in this tiny little cup. I mean, really folks, am I the only one who struggles not to pee all over my hand, wrist, arm, toilet seat and floor????? I think not.  And don’t dare ask me for a clean sample. I will laugh at you. 

Now, I thought we would have to wait for hours to get the test results back, but that didn’t happen. Less than 30 after providing my “sample” Dr Arrogant waltz’s in with a slight spring to his step. He pulls up a stool and sits down.  HE SITS DOWN.  My freaking heart stopped. The voices in my head began to scream…loudly.  I knew something was really really wrong.  Doctors rarely sit. And more rarer is an ER doctor sitting down.  I’m glad I didn’t have to provide a stool sample because this homegirl was scared shitless.  My husband had this “I have no clue what’s going on” look on his face. I could feel the blood drain from mine.

Dr. Arrogant looks me straight in my eyeballs and says, “Mrs. Cawley, I don’t know if I can help you.”  Who the hell says that to a patient? WTF?????  My reply, “What the hell is THAT supposed to mean?” Dr. Arrogant takes a minute to compose himself and proceeds to tell me that I am spilling “massive amounts” of protein into my urine. My blood is barely registering a trace. He says that’s not normal and that I need to see a Nephrologist immediately.

I wanted to say, “Well, what the hell are you waiting on man? We’re in a hospital. There has to be a half dozen of them floating around here somewhere. Go fetch one and I’ll wait right here.” What I actually said was, “Ummmm…. Ok.”  Not very eloquent. I know. I probably should have relayed my initial thought, but my brain was working overtime and my mouth shut down.  Dr. Arrogant then tells us to wait. He knows of a Nephrologist on sight. He’s going to go talk to him.

Roughly another 30 minutes later, the Needle Nazi enters and begins to remove the IV, turn off the BP cuff, remove the pulse oximeter and give me my clothes back. I was a little bit taken aback by this. Dr. Arrogant didn’t sound promising about my condition, but here they were trying to boot skeet skeet my ass to the curb. Oh no. I don’t think so.  That’s when the doc stuck his head in the door and says he talked to the Nephrologist and he’s going to see me on an OutPatient basis and to expect a call in the next day or so. And we left.