The first day at HUP, continued.....
Dr. Marcotte tells me I’m going to be admitted immediately. I’m sure he made the decision from the x-rays and MRI scans before he even laid eyes on me. He asked if Hilary could go home and get what I’d need. However, his decision was no surprise and I had my small bag, with books, spare clothes, and other necessaries with me.
Normally admission can be delayed an hour or more (Hilary’s cousin Bill spent about 40 hours in the ER with esophageal cancer while waiting for a room!) Instead of making us wait, the doctor’s staff gives us meal vouchers for the hospital cafeteria, and returns my co-pay as it is covered by my admission.
After a quick meal (hospital food), we go off to Admitting where I’m promptly assigned a room on Silver (hospital talk for Silverstein Pavilion) 9, the neurosurgery ward.
As soon as we get to my assigned room, I can guess why the bed is available. The man in the other bed is watching TV and the volume is way up. Oh, well.
It’s about 6:00, and the shift changes at 7. My nurse, Ray, works up a very complete history for my chart. He’s thorough, nice, and very tired, as he’s nearing the end of a 12-hour shift. When he’s listening to my heart and lungs he spends a very long time and seems very intent. That doesn’t bode well.
Finally, Ray tries to start an IV connection on the back of my hand. He fails after two tries. It seems to be the rule in al hospitals that I’ve been in (3 so far; that’s a note from 2012), that people get two tries at starting an IV. After that, another person is called in. That’s a great rule for patients as it makes all the IV starters better and cuts down on unneeded needle sticks, which are never nice.
Ray leaves; it’s now after 7, and so does Hilary. Dinner arrives, but before I can eat it, an x-ray tech shows up with a portable machine, installs me in the high back chair next to the bed, and takes a chest x-ray series.
I quickly eat. The food is OK. As soon as I’m done, two more techs come in and do an EKG. I’m beginning to think Ray really found something serious.
After they leave the night nurse, Lisa, shows up. She’s friendly, but also not too good at starting IV connection points. She finally gets a line in, but it’s painful and I imagine it’ll need redoing fairly soon.
After Lisa leaves I discover that the phone system here is for the birds. It’s awkward and expensive. Some long distance calls are simply impossible or must be charged to a credit card at near airplane phone rates. At least I can call home free.
Hilary says she fell after she got home, tripping over something by her computer, but she’s OK. I hope so. I’m not sure she’d tell me if she wasn’t. That call ends about 8:30. We’re both very nervous.
At 8:45 three neurosurgery residents arrive and tell me I’m scheduled for an MRI, RIGHT NOW, like 5 minutes ago.
I’m still wearing the shorts and T-shirt I wore earlier today. There hasn’t been time to get me changed and gowned.
I get into the wheelchair they brought and we speed off to the basement MRI center that’s actually under the weird red pyramid that sits in the courtyard the cafeteria overlooks. As we’re rushing down corridors and elevators I’m hastily reciting my symptoms to the residents, and one of them is actually trying to take notes. Haven’t they ever heard of pocket voice recorders? I have one in my bag upstairs.
Once we reach the MRI center, the residents leave me in the care of an MRI tech. I need to be gowned and my shorts need to vanish as they have metal that will not please the MRI device. However, I can leave my wedding ring on as gold isn’t affected or reactive to magnetic fields.
Once I’m set I transfer to the insertion table, get pushed through a few rooms, and right into a smallish (slightly less than my shoulder width) MRI with indirect lighting throughout and a stiff breeze coming from above my head. It’s nice and cold, my preferred conditions.
My leg is now twitching a lot, and I’m having lumbar and thoracic scans, both regular and contrast. I’ll be in the machine, which is a new, faster machine, for just over an hour. There was no time to Valium-prep me and since it didn’t help at all while at DCMH, this was an interesting experiment. The lack of a sedative proved not to be a problem and all those prior doses of Valium and Atavan were a waste.
After the MRIs a Transport aide takes me back to my room and bed. Or so I think. Around 11:30, yet another neurosurgery resident shows up. I meet Eric, who I’ll see a lot of during my stays here. He gives me another complete physical and goes over my entire history. He’s with me for about 45 minutes.
About 15 minutes after Eric leaves, another tech comes by and draws a lot of blood for a complete blood work up.
And at 12:40AM my first day at HUP is actually over.
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