Virgil

At least it turned out well

I had wanted to write a blog on the fall of the Berlin Wall. I still intend to, hopefully by the weekend. But I got a call late this morning from my mother. Actually I was on lit net in the middle of replying to someone's blog when she called.

She had that voice that projects, "I'm not feeling well."
Uh oh. What's the matter?
She's has this throbing pain in her left leg.
Since when?
Since last night.

She had this a few weeks ago too. It reminds her of when she got a blood clot. Those that don't remember or don't know, my mother had a hip replacement surgery a year and a half ago, and while bound to a wheel chair for those first few weeks she developed a blood clot. Blood clots are dangerous and they have to put you on blood thinners for a number of months. I think it was like half a year.

This feels just like the blood clot, she says.
Oh?
It really hurts. I can't bend the leg.
What do you want to do?
I don't know, but my shoulder hurts too.
Your shoulder? Which one?
My left.
What? I'll be right over.
What are you going to do?
What do you think, I'm a miracle worker? We'll have to go to the emergency room. [I didn't really say that miracle worker part, just thinking it. ]

Lucky I'm off from work with the Veteran's Day holiday is what I'm thinking. I get there. It's only a few minutes away from my house. She's still in a night gown and it's almost mid day. She shows me her leg. She says her calf feels like a rock. It does feel hard. She can't lift her left arm, pain shooting down. That's not good. Let's go. She has to get dressed. Ok. Finally.

There aren't many pleasant memories I’ve had in hospitals. Hospital emergency rooms basically suck. Anyway, I have choice of two hospitals on Staten Island. Because we're an island and cut off from the rest of the larger part of the city, it's somewhat limited where I live. And the population of Staten Island has zoomed, while the hospital system has not been able to keep up. For instance, back in 1965, the population of Staten Island was around 40,000; today it’s around 500,000, and it’s basically the same two hospitals, though both have expanded, but not nearly enough to keep up. They are equidistant from my house. One has particularly rotten memories (my father passing there) and the other not so bad (my father's life actually being saved there two years before he passed away). I also remember the other one, Staten Island University Hospital, just expanded their emergency room setup and it's supposed to be state of the art. That’s the one we go to.

And wow, it is beautiful. I’ve never seen a nicer looking ER. No waiting for the triage nurse, they take us right away. I explain it all. I give them the list of her medications. I look up in the medical notebook I keep her history when she had the blood clot, her medical issues, and her doctors. They take her vitals; her blood pressure is up, 176/79. They get her a wheelchair and wheel her in. Wow, she now gets a little mini room to herself in ER. Nice. In the past there were little cubby holes separated by curtains, and most of the time people were in beds in the hall. Anyway at least she’s got privacy and fairly nice setup. An aid comes to get her changed into a hospital gown, a nurse comes to check her vitals (pressure still up) and get all the information. It’s amazing how many times they ask the same questions. It always feels like you’re being interrogated, like they want to trip you up. A doctor intern comes in, (cute young lady ) asks the same damn questions and tells us she’ll be going through some testing.

Ok, now we wait. Finally it’s off for the sonogram to check for blood clots. My mother wants me to come along. I feel funny walking around holding her purse, but sometimes you got to do these things. I go, but ultimately they don’t let me stay in the room anyway. They have me wait in a waiting room around the corner and I sit, put my legs up on another chair, take out my book to read, and then fall asleep. Somewhere in the middle of my sleep I swear I heard someone call me. I snap awake. I look around. No one. I walk back to the sonogram room. She’s not there. Was this the right room? Heck they all look alike. She must be back to her ER bed. I wonder about, still holding her purse, get lost getting back, ask for directions, and finally return to her ER mini room. No one’s there. Oh, she’s not back. I decide to lay on her bed and wait and read. Next thing I know the portable x-ray person comes and asks me my name. No wait, I’m not the patient. She’s over in sonogram. Oh, I’ll be back. Ok, you do that, Miss Terminator. And now it’s over a half hour that I’ve been waiting. I decide to try to find the sonogram room. I wonder in the general direction and like some comedy skit I run right into her in a wheelchair. She’s sitting very queenly in that chair. A blanket over her to keep her warm. So what’s the result? No blood clot. Really? I know right then it’s not serious. That’s a relief and I’m sure they won’t keep her either. It’s three o’clock now, three hours at the hospital. Nurse officially tells us the results. So what’s next? Well, we just have to do a few more tests. Ok, EKG, x-rays of her shoulder, chest, and leg, blood test. Slowly results come in one at a time. Real doctor comes in to tell us they all look good. There’s nothing wrong. Just need some pain medication. Tylenol. I could have given her that. Ok. Six hours from when we enter she’s let go. Her blood pressure is still high, but they tell us to follow up with her regular doctor.

Oh well, so much for a day off. I get a little petulant in the car ride back. I tell her I wasted a day.
She snaps back at me. I didn’t tell you to take me to the hospital.
Now I feel guilty. I didn’t mean to say it was her fault.
Next time, she says, don’t do me any favors.
Oh mom, now stop.

I really wish I could have written that blog on the fall of the Berlin Wall.