The Impatient Outpatient

In mid-January I visited my primary physician for my annual physical.  Because my PSA shot up above 7, he recommended I see a urologist.   I had to wait until early March to see the urologist I've seen before.

When I saw him, he decided he wanted to take 20 biopsy samples, which means it would be done with anesthesia in a hospital rather than in his office.  So, that was scheduled in late March, at 5:45 in the morning.  But then he wanted me to see my primary physician for a pre-op.  I scheduled that for a few days before the biopsy surgery.  When I saw my primary physician, he didn't think there would be any problem.

But then he thought about it and because I have a heart valve blockage he thought I should see a cardiologist.  This was about two days before the scheduled surgery.  I couldn't see my cardiologist until the following week.  I notified the urologist's scheduler and she supposedly notified the hospital.

I think the hospital called a day or two before the surgery and I informed them of the delay.  At 6:15 of the morning of the original scheduled surgery, the hospital called asking why I wasn't there!

I saw the cardiologist the following Thursday.  He didn't see any reason I couldn't have the biopsy.  The risk of surgery to open my artery was greater than the risk of the biopsy.

I called urology scheduling and she "penciled" me in for April 10th.  At least this time I wouldn't miss a class. "Penciled" probably means entered in the computer system with a provisional note.  Surgery called me back a few days later and said I was scheduled for 8 in the morning.  A much more civilized time.

So no alcohol 24 hours before and 24 hours after.  I like my wine but I could give it up for a couple of days.  No breakfast on the day of surgery.  Now, that is hard to give up.  Only coffee, water, and clear juice.  At least I get a jolt of glucose with clear apple juice.

Off we go on Wednesday morning with my wife to keep me company and drive me home.

We get whisked into a small room with a hospital bed and a woman working on a computer in the other half of the room.  Hm!  Are they getting crowded for office space?  I'm given a gown, a robe, support hose, and cloth socks with sticky bottoms.  My wife looked at the last and said she should have brought those $125 socks from home; that's what was on the bill for her surgery a couple of years ago.

So, I'm just about ready to be trundled off to surgery.  We sit and wait.  My wife has a book, but I can't get into reading much.  I just sit quietly on the edge of the bed (gurney).  And we wait.  It's nine o'clock.  We hear there has been an emergency surgery.  That's certainly more important than my biopsy.  And we wait.

A guy is brought in on a gurney to recover from his surgery.  The woman working on a computer is his girl friend trying to catch up on work while waiting.

I play with words in my head and come up with "The impatient outpatient".  I tell it to a nurse and she just about cracks up.  She was my best audience; others smiled or shrugged.  Maybe they took it as a serious criticism.

Finally about ten o'clock I'm trundled out of the room in my bed.  I watch the ceiling lights flash by and chat with the nurse pushing me.  She places me in a curtained alcove.  The urologist comes by to check on me; his beaming face is a relaxant.  The anesthesiologist comes by and I ask him his name.  It's Muzzi.  "Parlai italiano?"  Boy, does he!  Not exactly like a native, but better conversation than I could make.  And he spoke slowly enough that we understood every word.  He learned it from his "nonna" (grandmother).  Next comes an anesthesiology nurse who heard some of the previous conversation and said he was "German" and asked me to use some German phrases.  In the course of these comings and goings, I rattled off a few phrases in other languages.  Was I entertaining the staff or were they distracting me?  While this last conversation is going on, the nurse puts an I.V. in me and starts a saline drip.  No big deal except the tube irritates the crook of my elbow a few times.

The surgery space becomes available and I'm moved two or three curtained spaces.  Daphne, another anesthesiology nurse, starts the drip of Propofol.  Hoo boy!  My arm feels like somebody is squeezing it everywhere.  Then somebody says, "Melvyn, wake up!"

I feel really tense and stretch everything I can.  But otherwise I am content to just lie there.  After a few minutes I again watch the lights flash overhead but I don't chat as much.  Back in the room.  Goodness, it's two o'clock.

I'm offered beverages and I choose water and apple juice, the latter again for the energy.  I feel better and better.  My bladder says its time to go down the hall.  I manage mostly on my own, but slowly and with a nurse at my elbow.

At about three I get permission to get dressed and go home.  The staff gives my wife time to bring our car to the front door and escorts me out.  Home we go and life returns to normal, sort of.

I was told I would learn the results in a couple of days.  Well, those couple of days were thrown into turmoil by the weather.  Duluth was hit by a heavy, wet snow fall and many activities were cancelled.  As of Sunday I have not been given a result.   My attitude is that I'm positive the results are negative.

Meanwhile, I've moved a lot of snow and slept well.  The worst side effect was a sore throat from the breathing tube that was put in my throat so I could breathe properly.  Today I feel I have some of my singing ability (whatever that means) back.

For the follow-up, see "I was right to be positive about a negative".

How I nearly spoiled our Christmas

We sang in the early Christmas Eve service last night and had the soup and bread dinner between the services.  The dinner almost didn't happen because nobody had been appointed to take charge of it.  My wife did a lot of calling around and found many volunteers to bring food, serve it, and clean up afterward.  She told me that she would help set up and then let others clean up.

Well, it didn't work out that way.  After I ate and chatted with a few people, I put on my coat.  The second service started and my wife was still in the kitchen.  We also wound up bringing home the tablecloths to wash.

I was irritated; I still had presents to wrap and a few other things I wanted to do at home.

When we arrived home I made a few trips between the garage and house with things we wouldn't have had if we had left right after we ate.  The last thing I brought in was the big bundle of tablecloths.  My wife said I should just drop them down the laundry chute, but I said I would rather just take them downstairs.

This shouldn't be a problem.  I frequently take heavy boxes of firewood to the basement.  A box of tablecloths should be easy.  This despite that my vision is blocked with either the firewood or the tablecloths.

I got to the last step and caught the heel of my boot.  Forward I pitched.  I think I dropped the tablecloths.  My right knee slammed into the concrete floor and I rolled onto my back.  Oh, great!

My knee was sore, but otherwise seemed OK.  My pants weren't ripped, but there was a sheen that wasn't there before.

I picked myself up, put the tablecloths by the washing machine, and went back upstairs on my own power.  But I was even more irritated for having to stay later at church than I had planned.

Well, I did get the presents wrapped, and I did get some of the other tasks done that I had planned.  I also slept rather well, even if sugar plums weren't dancing in my head.

When I woke up this morning, my knee was not the color of a plum and I could walk OK.  Whew!  I won't be in the hospital with a broken knee cap or anything else.  Bring on the presents!  Raise our voices on high in song!  Serve the punch!  Merry Christmas!

Hospitals are not healthy places

In addition to the old bromide that people die in hospitals and to the fact that one can pick up an infection easily, there are a few other unhealthy aspects of hospitals. Many don't support the healthy life style I mentioned in yesterday's post.

My wife is in a hospital now after surgery. She found the food not to our idea of healthy - the bouillon was too salty, the juice too sweet with added white grape juice, and the gelatin tasted of non-food chemicals.

Roommates can cause stress. They often have the TV sound too loud or their guests talk too loudly. Of course, listening to the complaints of an uncooperative patient can be a big distraction.

My wife's current roommate is generally quiet but she wanted to watch the Vikings-Packers game. My wife has as much interest in professional sports as I have in ironing clothes, as well as in professional sports. I made sure I was back at home during the game with the TV off. My wife heard it even from other rooms, but she was still so fatigued from her surgery that she slept through most of it. Neither of us knew the score until this morning.

Another unhealthy aspect of hospitals is the number of overweight staff, not a good example. Besides the amount of carbonated beverages they drink, some have too many treats around. On one stay, we saw a whole box of donuts. And the cafeterias are often only a step above fast food restaurants.