As some of you who know me are aware, the last couple of weeks have been really rough ones for me. I hadn't been feeling well for awhile, but, me being me, I kept putting off seeing the doctor. I thought it would pass if I just toughed it out, and that was what I did. Eventually, I started feeling like I was going to pass out every time I stood up. That scared me, but it still wasn't enough to get me into the doctor. I had things to do, places to go, people to see, and a son to chauffeur. Then, I went to a convenience store to get some gas. As I got out of the car, everything around me got incredibly bright, and then my vision sort of started to pull in on itself, like when you turn off the television. On top of that, I got this incredibly loud roaring in my ears, and I could barely hear anything. Now, this was enough to scare me!
I sat down for a minute until the feeling past, went in an paid for my gas, and went to pick my son up at school. The minute he got to the car I told him I was sick and he was driving. I told my husband what had happened at the store and he suggested that I check my blood pressure. Normally, I am hypertensive and take two different blood pressure medications. Imagine my surprise when my blood pressure register 88/50! I knew that couldn't be right, so I checked it again....three times! That's when my husband insisted that I go to the ER. At that point, I agreed.
Now, on this trip, I had a fantastic experience, if a trip to the ER could ever be described this way. I was treated with kindness and compassion. The doctor and the nurses explained everything to me as we went along. They checked on me frequently and I never felt frightened, just sick. I was there for quite awhile, due to the dehydration and the two bags of IV fluids I had to have, but all in all, it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been.
Six days later, it all started again. I was having the same symptoms as before, with the addition of chest pain, which I knew was my costochondritis acting up. We got to the ER, and the waiting room was wall to wall people. We waited about half an hour, and I was then called back to the triage area. Because I was having dizziness again, they took me back right away. The minute I got to the back, I was put in a hospital gown and asked to give a urine sample. Things seemed to be going about the same as they had before. The nurse immediately put in an IV line and drew some blood. I was helped onto the gurney, and they told me the doctor would be in soon.
This was at 8:30 p.m. I sat there on that gurney and waited. And waited. And waited. No nurse came back to the room. No technician came to the room. I would see people hurrying past the door, but no one even bothered to stick their head in the door and say, "We're busy, but we haven't forgotten about you." Finally, around 11:30 p.m., the doctor walked in. She did a quick exam, said she wanted a chest xray and told me that I was dehydrated again. Because the doctor said it would be at least a couple of hours before I would be ready to leave, I told my son to go home and get some sleep, and I would call home when I was finished. The doctor also said that I would need more IV fluids, and with that, she was gone.
I lay back on the gurney and tried to get as comfortable as possible. And once again, I waited. No one came in. No one started the IV fluids. No one stuck their head in the door. Finally, a couple hours later, I was taken for the chest xray, and then I was returned to the room to wait some more, once again alone in the room, with no idea what was going on. After two more hours, the doctor came to the door, she didn't even walk all the way into the room, and announced that she wanted a CT scan of my chest in case I actually had a blood clot, and not a flare up of my costochondritis. I was completely alone again for another hour, still no IV fluids for my dehydration.
Eventually, the radiology technician came to take me for this test. As she was getting me prepped, she announced that I was getting a different type of contrast solution because my kidney functions were so bad. This came as a surprise to me! Neither the doctor nor a nurse had thought to mention this to me, and they never did. Again, I was wheeled back to the room and left completely and totally alone.
Another hour or so passed and the nurse came in and finally hooked up the IV fluids. At this point, my chest was really hurting. In fact, it was hurting so much that I was in tears. I told the nurse that I was having a lot of pain. Now, mind you, I had just been taken down for a CT scan due to chest pain, but the nurse looked at me and told me that I had never mentioned chest pain! I just stared at him, and as politely as possible, corrected him. Eventually, I was given pain medication, which didn't help and I told another nurse that it wasn't helping. I could tell that she didn't really believe me, but she said that she would tell the doctor.
By this point, it was 5 or 6 a.m., and the pain was even more intense. I pressed the call button and told them that I was still having a great deal of pain. Eventually, they came back and I could tell the nurse was irritated. He hooked up a second bag of IV fluids and gave me another injection for pain, plus an injection of atavan. There was no explanation for why I was given atavan. This nurse left, and no one came back for another couple of hours! Finally, the doctor returned and in a perfunctory manner, told me that nothing showed up on the CT scan. I told her that I was still hurting, and she proceeded to tell me that costochodritis didn't hurt that bad. I was not in a good mood at that point, to say the least and asked her if she had ever had it. She told me that she hadn't, and I told her that she could tell me how bad it hurt once she had.
She walked out the door, and I never saw her again. A few minutes later, a new nurse came in the room, gave me two more injections, one for pain and another of atavan. This nurse proceeded to tell me that my chest pain was all my fault for getting myself "all worked up". As soon as I had been given the injections, he proceeded to unhook the IV and he handed me my discharge papers. I had a prescription for an antibiotic and that was it. No one told me what it was for, or why I needed it. And no one, with the exception of a radiology technician, explained my kidney functions being off. I was unceremoniously shown the door.
A couple days later, I finally picked up the paperwork to see what it said. Apparently, the reason they gave me the antibiotic was for a severe case of cystitis, along with the costochondritis. And on the last page, it stated that I had experienced a panic attack and that I should continue to take my anxiety medication. I don't take anxiety medication! I don't have a problem with anxiety, as a general rule. However, if anyone deserved to be anxious, I think I did.
No one should be treated the way I was in a hospital. I realize they were busy, and I didn't expect for anyone to sit and hold my hand. However, would it have hurt for someone to just stick their head in the door and tell me that they hadn't forgotten about me? Would it have hurt to tell me that they were sorry that I was in pain? Would it have hurt for them to explain what was going on? And why was I never told what was wrong with me, or what the prescription was for? There really is no excuse for making someone feel worse than they already did. I still don't know why my kidneys aren't functioning correctly, but to be honest, I will have to be on my death bed before I return to that ER.
No comments:
Post a Comment