"Going undercover" generally implies an element of intrigue, a degree of danger, a hint of romance. Well, there was definitely a degree of danger - hence the phrase "serious as a heart attack."
Now if you don't like a movie, a play or a meal, you can walk out and go someplace else and that's that. Anyway, while there are movie critics, theater critics and food critics, where are you going to find an unbiased hospital critic? Do hospitals solicit big name patients with exotic illnesses or conditions and offer discount treatment for a good review? Actually, I have been informed that big city hospitals do, in fact, solicit celebrity patients. But it's not like people wander in off the street and say, "I think I'll have the heart catheterization: Do you have a particularly recommended surgeon?"
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As an aspiring journalist, it behooves me to recognize the story potential of whatever circumstances I find myself encountering. This is the story of my inadvertent stay at a top notch medical care facility.
It began 6 September, 2010, while walking Baby, my neighbor's overweight dachshund. After making the block, I was pretty well winded and felt like a cylinder the diameter of my forearm was running from between my shoulder blades to my sternum. Reclining on my friend's sofa, I experienced pain so intense it nearly brought me to tears.
That afternoon, a certified ECA (Emergency Care Attendant) advised me to seek immediate medical attention. The stubborn need to proceed at my own pace [plus just not having an appetite for the condescension of some medical personnel] caused an 18 hour delay in following his advice. Plus, I was loathe to be chastised for my weight and not taking my meds. (If a fat person walked into a doctor's office, carrying a severed limb, the first question would undoubtedly be, "What are you doing to lose weight?")
Tuesday morning, I called a friend who had to come into town for work, so she could take me to the Heart of Texas Memorial Hospital, Brady, Texas. On the way, a call was placed to my pastor. Upon my arrival, Lyndy, the ebullient desk nurse, was taken aback: she didn't get a whole lot of heart attack walk-ins.
Applying the cuff, she "clocked" my blood pressure at 226/186, which is pretty much the medical equivalent of blowing through a school zone at 80 mph.
I recall an IV being started. Thankfully it wasn't "curtains" though it was definitely, "Goodnight, Nurse." A groggy state of consciousness was reached around 1:30 p.m. I remember eating a sandwich and making a passing comment to my nurse about Jesus "reclining at table." Later a friend helped me fill out the menu for the next two meals. She advised the roast pork for supper and it was very tasty.
Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday I was attended by Ronnie, Tammie, Brenda, Bertha and other dedicated care givers on Shannon's staff. I saw a couple people I recognized, including His Grace, Bishop Michael Pfieffer, OMI.
Thursday evening, being deemed stable enough to move, I was transferred to a room on the fourth floor, since ICU had a bed crunch. I always wondered what it would be like to take part in a "fly-by-night" operation - and now I know.
Meeting Glory and Molly on fourth floor, I put on my sleep mask and went beddy-bye. The staff commented that I wasn't the typical Intensive Care patient, meaning I talked ... extensively and coherently.
During the course of the weekend I was privileged to meet Katy, Cody, Judith, Rosa, Olga, Rachel, Kacci and Ashe. Also Mallory and Felipa from dietary services and Paige, Abigail, Laura, Brandon and Alma.
Saturday, I put on a pair of jeans and went for a stroll, commenting, "Wearing the latest in semi-invalid wear..." During Monday's stroll, I sang, "She's a walkin', talkin', party doll."
I like to think they'll miss the entertainment value.
Around 4:45 Saturday morning I met Darlene, whom I shall evermore call "Vampira." She was an engaging, gnome-like woman who came in to draw blood. Apparently it was good for her, as she came back 12 hours later and did it again. She and I had compatible humors. She said it was time to feed the bats and I said they must have developed a taste for "Hemo-Lite" seeing how I was down from a 16 hemoglobin count to an eight.
Brandon, a 29-year-old RN, reminded me a lot of my son and became a personal favorite. We shared a similar sense of humor, too.
An endoscopy and colonoscopy were scheduled to determine source of blood loss. Drinking that four-liter bottle of electrolyte solution was perhaps the worst trial of the whole ordeal. Then I was NPO (nothing to eat or drink) after midnight Sunday. The procedure did not take place until almost 2:45 p.m. Monday.
I met Laura, one the neatest people, who understood my warped sense of humor. We sang bits and pieces from Rocky Horror Picture Show. What a gas!
Speaking of gas, she told me one of the medications I would be receiving would have an amnesiac effect. I asked, "Like the neuralizer thing on Men In Black?" "Yeah," she said, "like that."
Tuesday morning, a new set of student nurses came onto the floor, among them were Edwina, Sara and Jacqueline.
Finally, around 2:30 p.m, Brenda, the RN had my dismissal papers ready. She went over the list of new meds, side effects and all that. I said, "I can just see me finally starting to date and we get romantic. He'll be asking, 'Baby, did the earth just move?' and I'll be saying, 'I thought it was my nitro pill kicking in'." The nurses laughed and Brenda left to get the requisite wheelchair.
I was given the go-ahead to remove the telemetry heart monitoring patches and wires. Stepping out of Room 469 one last time, I exclaimed, "Live, from Shannon's fourth floor, it's JoAnn Dalgard - unplugged!" Brenda rolled her eyes and told me to get in the wheelchair.
Jacqueline and Edwina came along. The chair was parked at the curb, I gave hugs all around and got into Debbie's car. We hit the street around three o'clock and stopped at a drive-thru' to get drinks.
Later I learned my friend Fr. Chris Roque had stopped to visit, missing me by about a half hour.
Got back to Brady and attended Cursillo reunion group, where everyone was surprised, loving and very welcoming. My friend Debbie took on the role of nursemaid, keeping me at her house until Friday. She would have kept me longer, but I felt ready to sleep in my own bed.
Though afflicted with post-procedural anemia, exacerbated by anti-occlusion medication, my overall experience was positive. Please feel free to take my word for it - Shannon Medical Center is a great hospital. You don't have to go finding out for yourself.
A couple words of caution, if you are at all sensitive about your age, leave that inhibition at home: the only one who did not ask me to verify my date of birth upon entering the room was Alma the housekeeper. Secondly, if you want to sleep in the dark, take a sleep mask.
If a hospital stay is in your foreseeable future, I hope you find excellent care and comfort are readily available.
Stay healthy. If you must go to the hospital, I hope it's to visit someone else.
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Good for you, my dear friend. Keep on keeping on!
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