Emergency Room Adventures

Don't try this at home...

So there I was recreating a Fred Astaire routine on the tiny porch; instead of a coat rack my prop was a full garbage bag. (Remember Royal Wedding?) Unlike Fred, I made my partner to awful. Oh, you don’t believe me, huh? OK

That fall I took last week did more damage than I thought. What was believed to be a couple of cracked ribs turned into two fractured vertebrae in my lower back. How do I know this? The story:

Yesterday morning in the wee hours, I was awakened by pain the intensity of which I had ever experienced. No matter the position, none were comfortable and when I tried to move the pain shot through me like so many bullets.

I took a few aspirin and read while they kicked in. There was little relief. I took a few Ibuprofen tablets. The pain only increased to such a degree that sitting or lie lying down were out of the question. I broke in drenching sweats and at times my whole body trembled violently.

At around 3:30 pm, I struggled into the car short of breath (not even attempting to draw a deep one) and drove to the hospital stifling screams; praying the driving wasn’t too erratic.

At the ER I was put into a wheel chair and quickly into triage; then waited about a half hour before I was wheeled into a room where a nurse decided to take my BP again because triage readings were especially high and she suggested that was due to the extreme pain. The results were slightly lower, but still off the charts.

The doctor arrived, closed the door, shook my trembling, sweaty hand, took a seat and asked for the story of what happened two days earlier. He said it didn’t sound like kidney stones, to which I replied that I had given birth to many of those, and this pain was completely different.

X-rays (if they still call them that since they are now done in computers and sent directly to the doctor’s screen) were ordered and a urine sample as well to check for any blood or urinary infection. There was none.

I was whisked off to X-ray where in agony had to lie flat, turn on each side and then fetal position. By the time it was all over the hospital gown was soaked with sweat and I was wheeled by to room #32.

The nurse arrived once again to give me a 600mg dose of Ibuprofen and a glass of ice water.

The doctor arrived with the results; he sat on the bed and described what he saw and what the technician pointed out to him. He asked if anyone had brought me in or had I called 911. Neither, I said. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped; he just looked at me for a few seconds before shaking his head and reading my beads.

He said I should not have driven myself, because he couldn’t offer an IV of a powerfully strong painkiller prior to sending me home. It was then my turn for the wide eyes and chin on the floor.

The nurse arrives to take the BP one more time; it is a bit lower again, but remains in the danger area. She frowns and walks out to give this new information to the doctor.

In the end there were three prescriptions to be filled (which I had to do myself) before I could get back to the apartment and pop some painkilling, muscle relaxing happiness.

As I left the parking lot heading to the drug store, a thunderstorm came out of nowhere making it difficult to see the road in the darkness. Arriving at the pharmacy I waddled to the prescription counter where the kind pharmacist greeted me kindly and noticed I was in much pain. “Sit down over there and I will have these ready for you in a few minutes.” And he did. So, $100.00 and three prescriptions later I am on the road in the torrential downpour; even the highest speed of the wipers has little effect. I consider getting off the road and waiting for the rain to let up, but the pain is too intense and nudged me onward. I had to get relief.

Entering the apartment – before removing wet clothes – I popped two bottles, read the instructions and downed two pills with water. Within a half hour the pain had let up enough that it was possible to sit down. An hour, I was able to lie down and get a few hours of sleep.

I plan to make an appointment with my PCP tomorrow and expect him to rip me a new one for not calling sooner. I deserve it. I’ll live – or not.

Now comes the fun part...paying for it all. I have no insurance. Compared to "Just David" my little episode is a walk in the park.

And so it goes.
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