Drama In The ER

Warning: The actors in this script are paid professionals so the stunts you read below should not be attempted by amateurs.

I thought I would share with you my "educational" experience with the BC Health care system.    

Wednesday, February 2 - 4:00AM

- Was awoken by pain in the lower abdominal region.  I was highly annoyed because I have my Spring shipments arriving all this week and next week which meant I needed to log a lot of merchandising time for the reset.  Taking some time off to suffer my regular stomach spams was highly inconvenient.  I peed and went into my usual "stomach cramping" remedy routine.  Take 2 Gas-X pills (because 50% of the time it might be trapped gas), douse my stomach with the highly concentrated oil that my mama always used on my as a kid (its like a potent version of Vicks Vapour Rub), and fill a hot water bottle with boiling water.  8 out of 10 times, this routine works for pain management.  Tried to go back to sleep.

Wednesday, February 2 - 9:00AM

- My routine FAILED!  My pain level is about a 6/10 so because I was super excited to merchandise my new lines, I pulled on my big girl panties and got dressed for work.  I get to work and just sit at the computer not really moving because it gets progressively worse.  I puked bile followed by lovely diarrhea.  In a pathetic attempt, I eat a pretzel stick to see if that can sop up any of the acid levels in my stomach.  5 seconds later I puked it up.

Wednesday, February 2 - 1:00PM

- I admit defeat and go home to switch out with Chris.  My pain level is now 7/10.

Wednesday, February 2 - 4:00PM

- I call Chris at the store and ask him to come home early because I am in a fetal position from all the pain and can no longer take care of Kaiya.  I can still yell orders at Tai to fetch things but Kaiya needs constant entertainment (aka "movement ") to keep her content.  I noticed that the pain has now progressed to the back and hitting my kidneys.  When I lay on them the pressure adds more pain.  Fabulous... I suspect it wasn't my normal stomach spasm after all but maybe a bladder infection.  I recall that last time I left it too long (not seeing the Doc) and my body revolted by going into fight mode.  I had sweats, fevers, chills in addition to the glamourous vomitting, diarrhea and spasms.  I check the time and know that there is no way in hell I can see my GP today - but I also know I can't survive the night without antibiotics.  I tell Chris the game plan.  I will take a nap and see if the pain subsides.  If it doesn't by the time I wake up I will call Steph to drop me off at the hospital so I can get a prescription for antibiotics for my bladder infection.

Wednesday, February 2 - 6:00PM

- Woke up and pain level is all in the lower region, wrapped onto my back and now 8/10.  Steph drops me off at the hospital and I wait.  I was luckily assessed by the Triage Nurse in 3 minutes.  And that's where my luck for waiting ended.

Wednesday, February 2 - 7:00PM

- Finally admitted to an assessment room.  Dr. Sohn arrives and starts speaking to me in Chinese.  I looked at him and realized that someone assumed I was like the rest of the 90% of the Richmond population that can't speak English.  I unimpressedly tell the Doc I am not Chinese.  He apologizes and switched over to English.  Ironically  I didn't really understand him when he started to speak English.  The bad news is the Doc immediately ruled out a bladder infection (FUCK!  So much for my in-and-out hospital drug run).  The good news is that he also ruled out pregnancy from my urine sample.  The other really bad news is he has no idea where to go from here given the details and my medical history.  He starts palpating the stomach region and I SCREAM in pain when he puts pressure on the right hand side underneath the last bone on my rib cage.  I start crying because it hurts so bad.  The polite Asian Doc apologizes for causing the pain.  He leaves the room and gives me a box of tissues.

Wednesday, February 2 - 8:00PM

-   I silently wish for death because since the prodding, my pain level is 9/10 and I am using labour breathing techniques to help manage the contractions that spams every 30 minutes.  The soft spoken Asian Doc brings in a second Doc.  This guy thinks he's funny and in any other situation I would have appreciated his wit.  The younger White Doc starts palpatating and again puts pressure on the "sweet spot" which garners a huge scream of death by me.  They both discuss probabilities.  I immediately get sent for full blood work and an x-ray.

Wednesday, February 2 - 10:00PM

- Results come back clinically insignificant.  I have an elevated white blood cell count but that's it.  Both Docs do a diagnostic ultrasound.  The funny white Doc comments, "Don't you think that gall bladder looks pissed off."  The Asian Doc (who doesn't understand the humor because he is ESL) asks what he means by "pissed off?"  The funny Doc replys, "Not happy looking."  They both decide that it looks like a gallstone which means that I need to have surgery to have it removed.  They aren't absolutely sure yet so I need to stay overnight for observation.

Wednesday, February 2 - 11:00PM

- I get moved to an overnight stretcher across from an 80-something-old woman with dementia and a busted hip and a drunk diabetic man.  A sweet White nurse comes and announces she needs to start an IV drip on me.  She tries to distract me from the inevitable stab of a very large needle by asking my name.  I tell her, "Huong."  She asks if I have an English name.  I proudly reply,"No." 

"Okay, Hung tell me what your name means."

"It means Big Flower or Village."

"Oh does it mean different things in Mandarin and in Cantonese?" 

"No in Vietnamese 'Huong' just carries two definitions," I dryly answer ignoring the latent racism.

"Oh that's a pretty name," she cleverly recoups.

She then asks me what I do.  I tell her I own The Frog.  She gets really enthusiatic and tells me she loves the store and bought all her Christmas ornaments there.  Again, in any other normal situation I would have lapped up the flattery and basked a bit in my own glory.  However, I noticed her new found enthusiasm has made her hands shakey and she is no longer focussed on finding some very small veins with a very big needle.  3 attempts, 2 collapsed veins and 1 very loud "FUCK-ME" later the IV finds it final nesting place in my left hand.  Can this night get any awesomer?  Forgive the badder English because by now you all should know that I am ESL right?  In my IV drip is an AMAZING cocktail of morphine, Gravol and anti-inflammatory drugs.  I call it my Jesus-Juice.  Sadly, this was the highlight of my entire night.

Thursday, February 3 - 12:00AM

- Throughout the entire evening I was secretly texting and BBM-ing (BlackBerry Messenging) my family to keep them updated as cell phones are technically banned from the ER ward.  My guard "aka nurse" keeps asking what I was doing and I just tell him I'm playing with some games.  Steph brought me my overnight bag so I was able to finally take my contacts out and try to rest.

Thursday, February 3 - 1:00AM

- The crazy old lady across from me is screaming that she is in hell and she is dying.  She clearly has not a clue where she is and her poor husband is trying to explain to her that she fell and she's in the hospital for treatment.  She continues to throw things at the nurses and screams mean things at her husband like, "You are just leaving me here to die" and "You don't love me".  One nurse was finally clever enough to sedate her.

Thursday, February 3 - 2:00AM

- The belligerent drunk man wakes up from his alcohol induced coma and starts swearing at the nurses that they are keeping him there without his permission.  The nurses say that he needs medical attention or he will die of a heart attack.  In retaliation he stands up in the middle of the ward, and pees in a cup for all to see.  As a nurse approaches him midstream, he empties his bladder in her general direction.  The clever nurse that sedated the crazy old woman, wrestles him and successfully straps him into his stretcher.  I suspect he gave him some drugs because he winks at me and says, "Now my shift will be a lot easier."  I whisper back, "Don't worry, I love my drugs and I will behave."

Thursday, February 3 - 6:00AM

- The Gravol is used to cut the nausea from the morphine and normally it makes patients drowsy.  In my case, I actually get hyper and alert.  I toss and turn the entire night waiting for morning.  

Thursday, February 3 - 8:00AM

- Breakfast is served but I can't eat anything just in case I need the surgery.  The crazy old woman's family Doc comes and he says, "You need to stay in the hospital to get better.  Stop being so mean to everyone that is here to help you feel better,  especially your husband.  It's like trying to hug a porcupine."  BEST. LINE. EVER.  Note to self: Perhaps I can recycle this line on my own beloved porcupines.  The crazy woman punches her Doc for the colorful comment.  The Doc pulls the husband aside and tells him he needs to go home and rest.  I finally get called to go into my detailed ultrasound.  The technician says it looks like I can go home because he can't find anything "clinically significant".  Gawd, I am really starting to hate the phrase.  It's like... so... annoying. 

Thursday, February 3 - 9:00AM

- The drunk beside me wakes up farting, burping and coughing up phlegm and swearing.  What a ray of sunshine I was greeted with.  The nurses quickly assess him and happily discharges him.  The crazy old woman attempts to escape but she actually can't walk.  She tries to trick the nurses by telling them she needs them to put her shoes on so her feet can be warm.  They look at the warm fuzzy bunny slippers on her and don't look impressed at her pathetic attempt.   They remind her that even with her shoes on she can't actually walk out if here without help.

Thursday, February 3 - 11:00AM

- Chris comes to keep me company.  I keep him updated on my neighbors and all their ailments.  He seems relieved that my healthy attention to the unusal is still intact.  This is a sign that his wife is still "okay" relatively speaking.  My nurse tells me that my specialist is fully booked for surgeries so he probably won't see me until the end of his shift which is about 4PM.  Since I am clearly just in pain and not dying, Dr. Firmer will review my non-descript aliment in between the actual dying patients and his breaks.  Fabulous.

Thursday, February 3 - 1:00PM

- A trio of UBC medical students comes to re-assess the situation.  Like a cute group of eager bright eyed spring chickens they prod and poke at their new play toy, reviews all the details, scribbles down some notes and then leave.  

Thursday, February 3 - 4:00PM

- Chris reluctantly abandons his post of "good husband" and puts on his "good daddy" hat.  My dad has had both kids by himself for the first time.  My dad is amazing with the kids but since Kaiya was born he can only take one at a time if he is by himself for long stretches.  I am more worried about my dad then my issue. 

  

Thursday, February 3 - 4:20PM

- The specialist Dr. Frimer arrives with the UBC students and after 5 minutes decides that they can't do anything without a CT scan.  He's hesitant because the cocktail of drugs has calmed the inflamed organ in question so he doesn't want to zap me full of radiation unnecessarily as it might not show up if it's healing.  He sends me home on an experiment.  If it is an abnormal appendicitis (meaning my appendix is higher then the usual position) then eating a full meal might re-trigger it.  If I get the same pain I need to come back for a CT scan.

Thursday, February 3 - 6:00PM

- After not eating for 36 hours I wolf down a McDonalds Quarter Pounder.  Don't ask me why but after each child birth I would crave McDonalds so for some reason after being released I had to have it.  Stomach is sore but not in pain.

So what is the lesson learned here? 

Lesson #1: That BlackBerry's and morphine makes everything better because if I hadn't died from my undiagnosed illness I would have died from boredom.  Thankfully I was able to play on my Blackberry and still keep in contact with my family.

Lesson #2: When I get to the point of that crazy old lady who kept asking me what town she was in every half hour and then yell at me to stop looking at her when I politely answered her... shoot me.

I am feeling better.  My Doc enlightened me by telling me that Houdini died from a burst appendicitis.  Thanks for the word of encouragement Doc.