The Other Side of the Gown: When a Nurse Becomes a Patient

I don’t know if I should entitle this blog post “The Most Bizarre Day of My Life” or “The Other Side of the Gown: When a Nurse Becomes a Patient”, so I’ll just tell my story.

On Sunday I developed a nagging, non-productive cough. I went to work. I was achy. Almost felt like the flu. I came home on Monday morning and slept all day. I never do that. Tuesday I felt a little better – still coughing my head off and swigging Delsym from the bottle like it was Don Julio, but better. I cleaned house. Big mistake. Wednesday I slept a lot, contemplated calling in for work, but put off the decision too long. I worked Wednesday night. It was tough. I coughed a lot, took the Delsym (as directed this time, so it wasn’t quite as helpful as I’d wished) and some ibuprofen because I’d coughed so hard and for so long that I’m pretty sure I pulled a muscle in my back, cracked a couple ribs, and no doubt ruptured a few minor vessels in my brain. I’d made up my mind that there was no way I was working Thursday night, and the closer it got to 7am the more sure I was that I was going to seek medical treatment of some kind. I hardly ever do this. I usually go the more natural route of Vitamin C, essential oils in the diffuser, etc. But the rational part of my brain (yeah, I have one) said, “Dee, you’re coughing so hard that you are managing to spray pee out of an empty bladder. That’s not something normal people do. Maybe Vegas entertainers of a certain ilk, but not a 48 year old nurse.”

Thursday morning I came home, showered, brushed the night shift funk off my teeth, and put on a touch of fresh make up. I had a minor wardrobe meltdown in my closet (second one in a week), but managed to get to a walk in clinic since I don’t have a primary care doctor. The clinic was pretty slow. I was pleasantly surprised. My first bizarre moment came when I presented my insurance card to the registration clerk. She couldn’t verify eligibility on the computer so she had to call the helpful number on the back of the card. After a 17 minute hold the poor receptionist had a 90 second conversation with a person on the phone to discover that I am, indeed, eligible. The check in process went pretty smoothly after that. I sat in the waiting room for a little bit, because, though I was the second person to walk into their clinic that morning, it took so long to get signed in that I was now 5th to be seen. It’s OK. I brought a book. Plus I was sending entertaining anecdotes to my husband via text while I waited. I also noticed that there is no clock in the waiting room at MedExpress. Well played, MedExpress. Well played. I finally get back to get vital signs obtained and a brief interview with the nurse. My blood pressure was pretty high: 164/102. I don’t have hypertension. Let’s remember I had been up since 5pm on Wednesday and it was now around 9am on Thursday morning, and I had not yet been to bed. Plus, I felt like shit – both physically and mentally. Not only could I not stop coughing – which was just pissing me off and making me tired, I also had to fart in addition to pee when I coughed. So I’m sitting in a chair, coughing into a tissue, peeing and farting like some sort of 80 year old woman. Let’s just say the lack of sleep and illness were catching up with me and I was starting to feel a little weepy. I sat in the exam room waiting to be seen for a bit with my head against the wall sort of sleeping – you know, like we night shift people do (I’ve fallen asleep on a commode more than one time). I waited so long that it was time to recheck the BP. 167/104 now. Not really going in the right direction. Then I got examined. The NP told me what I thought: probably bronchitis, here’s my plan. After she listened to my lungs she wanted a chest x-ray because of something she heard. X-ray done. Steroid shot given. The respiratory therapist evaluated my peak flow (you take a deep breath and blow it hard and fast into a meter – hard to do when you hack like a cat coughing up a fur ball every time you take a deep breath. Needless to say mine was poor. The reading was less than 300. In layman’s terms: it sucked. That bought me a breathing treatment – with albuterol and atrovent. Albuterol doesn’t do a whole lot of benefit for the heart rate or the blood pressure. I was halfway through my treatment when the power went out. Now, in a hospital it wouldn’t really matter because we hook these things up to an air thingy on the wall and I don’t think it really needs electricity, and even if it did, we have huge generators with generator power outlets in all the patient rooms. Anyway, at the clinic they use a portable machine powered by electricity. And, no, there were no generator outlets in the exam room. I thought, “Really? Who else gets halfway through a breathing treatment, has a transformer blow up or something, and loses power? I guess I do. This day just gets better and better.” So, I waited for them to get the radiology report on the computers that were on generator power. The NP came in and said, “Well.” Whenever people start sentences with “well” or “so”…yeah…I don’t like it. She told me that the x-ray showed “borderline enlarged heart”. She said with that, the BP that wouldn’t go down, and the non-productive cough I could possibly have a little CHF and she thought I needed to be evaluated more thoroughly, and since I don’t have a primary care provider she sent me to the ER. Rationally, I follow her reasoning. However, in my brain rationality was slowly becoming a casualty of sleep deprivation. She wanted to do it by ambulance. I said, “Um, no.” By this point I was in that exam room freaking out and crying and thinking that I was now going to die. Then they asked me to have someone come get me. I’d already spoken to my husband via text and, though he offered to come get me, I wanted him to meet me at the hospital. I said, “No. If I just sit in a car while I ride over there all I will do is cry and think about my impending death.” Well, this brought the nurse and the NP to my side, one handing me tissues and the other hugging me. LOL I know what you’re thinking, “drama queen much?” Just remember, I felt like shit and it was now 10:30 in the morning. They gave me my “transfer papers”, a copy of my X-ray, and said, “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. They’ll take good care of you.” I said, “Yes. I work there and they are my people. Thank you for your kindness.” They all were very, very nice.

Whatever took out the power at the clinic also knocked out all the traffic lights between the clinic and the hospital. Driving on Walnut in Rogers, AR, with functioning traffic lights and clear weather is somewhat of a death dash, driving on Walnut in the rain and no lights with cops directing traffic at only the main lights, well, that’s like kicking the Grim Reaper in the nads and saying, “Come get some, bitch.” So, let’s just say that by the time I checked into the ER my BP was 180/100 (or something similar). And I was tachycardic (the albuterol). And I had a little bit of a fever. Let’s add to the fact that the ER doc said my left lower lung sounded kind of junky, so he was leaning toward pneumonia. I now hit enough check marks that I qualified for a full septic workup. That means, in addition to the usual lab he would’ve run, they took blood cultures, urine cultures and a lactic acid. I thought, “Wow. This day just keeps getting more bizarre. All I f’ing wanted was a prescription for some Tessalon Perles and maybe an antibiotic if they thought it was prudent. Now I’m lying on an ER stretcher thinking I’m going to wind up admitted to the hospital for CHF, a cardiology consult, no doubt a heart cath scheduled for Monday, and, with a sepsis diagnosis, more than likely in the ICU on a ventilator before the whole ordeal was over.” Again…don’t judge. I was now probably delirious from lack of sleep. On the plus side, my BP was coming down (170 systolic, but still), and I was promptly able to produce a urine sample – hell, all I had to do was cough and aim toward the cup. I only got a little on my arm. Downside, I had to repeat the chest x-ray, in the process mooning the poor radiology tech with my ample ass clad in a black thong that I thought no one would see because I started out the morning JUST WANTING TESSALON PERLES!!! While waiting for my lab results I received an IV antibiotic, a PO antibiotic, and some Tylenol for the slight fever. Sweet hubby put spa music on his phone, turned out the lights, lowered the head of the stretcher and allowed me to relax. The BP finally came down to 137/74, and I was no longer giving him directions about what do if I had a stroke and wound up on a ventilator. He now understands that if I were to become incapacitated in anyway his main responsibilities are to make sure my turtle gets waxed and my legs get shaved. I think he was relieved when I finally dozed off. Around 1:30 the doc came in with the good news that my lab work was normal, the marker for CHF was normal, our radiologists thought my cardiac size was normal, and the ER doc did a bedside cardiac ultrasound to just look for fluid around the heart. It was normal. So, diagnosis: pneumonia. I was home by 2pm.

Most bizarre day because it was just so messed up and just kept getting messier. All I wanted was a bronchitis diagnosis and some cough suppressant that would actually work. The other side of the gown, when a nurse becomes a patient, well, I don’t like being a patient, though I do make that backless gown look pretty sexy with that black thong. And everyone was so nice and so great. I really think we have the best people in the world working at our hospital. Though, now, with the steroid shot and the albuterol inhaler that I’m using every 6 hours I now want to clean the bedroom, purge my closet, and organize my make up collection. Since that would wake up hubby (and he’s had a pretty long, stressful day because I cried A LOT) I’ll skip it. Maybe I’ll see what my Sims are up to. I made one of them Woohoo with Father Winter and now she has three of his children. Or maybe I’ll scour the Web for Poise pads made to fit thongs. Coulda used those today.