Still in the hospital
Mar. 20th, 2006 08:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bunrabHi, Mr BunRab back with another inside story from the world of big-city hospitals. Here's an approximate rendering of Kelly's notes to be delivered to her friends:
- - - - -
Sunday, early AM:
The excitement of the emergency room! Such as: the guy who runs the pod I was in--very funny; the federal prisoner in handcuffs with several Baltimore Police accompanying him, who had drunk a cup of ammonia cleaning fluid; the seemingly endless blood draws--must have been for party favors.
Finally out of emergency and settled into room 570 of the Cardiac unit--never a chance to sleep more than 45 minutes before another procedure, check-up, etc.
Sunday day:
Doctor #1, asking what happened. Then Dr #2, asking. Then Dr #3, asking. The visiting fellow and the cardiology fellow and the floor doctor and the infectious disease specialist, the infectious disease specialist's attending doctor, the doctor on call, probably a few people who happened to be in the cafeteria with any of the above...
I did get to finish Charles Stross' Atrocity Archive, very interesting. Very odd. A short story follow-up in the same book--I'll never look at traffic cameras the same!
I will admit that being cheerful and funny for all these doctors is tiring. I'm thinking about bitter and sarcastic as a change of pace.
- - - - -
I brought her a print-out of the comments to the previous post. She appreciated them and said you're all very nice people.
Subsequent to her message above, the nice men in white coats came and carried her away...to surgery, not the funny farm...where the operation to remove her ICD (Implantable Cardiovertor Defibrillator) was evidently straight-forward, without incident, and quicker than normal. The time between wheeling her away and the surgeon reporting back to me was only 95 minutes. The next 4 or 5 hours were not too scintillating while the surgical drugs were fading away, but by the end of the day, with 2 meals behind her, she was much closer to normal (her normal, not necessarily normal normal; for me, that's a good thing).
We're hoping a couple of relatives will be able to visit tomorrow.
- - - - -
Sunday, early AM:
The excitement of the emergency room! Such as: the guy who runs the pod I was in--very funny; the federal prisoner in handcuffs with several Baltimore Police accompanying him, who had drunk a cup of ammonia cleaning fluid; the seemingly endless blood draws--must have been for party favors.
Finally out of emergency and settled into room 570 of the Cardiac unit--never a chance to sleep more than 45 minutes before another procedure, check-up, etc.
Sunday day:
Doctor #1, asking what happened. Then Dr #2, asking. Then Dr #3, asking. The visiting fellow and the cardiology fellow and the floor doctor and the infectious disease specialist, the infectious disease specialist's attending doctor, the doctor on call, probably a few people who happened to be in the cafeteria with any of the above...
I did get to finish Charles Stross' Atrocity Archive, very interesting. Very odd. A short story follow-up in the same book--I'll never look at traffic cameras the same!
I will admit that being cheerful and funny for all these doctors is tiring. I'm thinking about bitter and sarcastic as a change of pace.
- - - - -
I brought her a print-out of the comments to the previous post. She appreciated them and said you're all very nice people.
Subsequent to her message above, the nice men in white coats came and carried her away...to surgery, not the funny farm...where the operation to remove her ICD (Implantable Cardiovertor Defibrillator) was evidently straight-forward, without incident, and quicker than normal. The time between wheeling her away and the surgeon reporting back to me was only 95 minutes. The next 4 or 5 hours were not too scintillating while the surgical drugs were fading away, but by the end of the day, with 2 meals behind her, she was much closer to normal (her normal, not necessarily normal normal; for me, that's a good thing).
We're hoping a couple of relatives will be able to visit tomorrow.
