This morning, the cardiac crew came in to give me the full assessment. Well, first the intern came in at around 4am. Then around 5am the resident came in with a few medical students came in to do an assessment. They all had to get a full story (independently) so that they could compare notes when they eventually made rounds. Around 6am they all came in with the cardiac attending. They asked questions and talked among themselves and occasionally ask me a question. A student would ask something about my history or what medications I was taking, all the while listening to my chest or back. They would take turns listening to a particular side or spot on my chest. After being the object of their underling study, The attending eventually said that I was ready to go home. They all took turns looking one more time at my groin cath site and pressing on it until it became even more tender. Then they all left to continue their rounds on the rest of the patients. Eventually a med student and a resident came in to give me discharge instructions. I only half listened as I was anxious to depart, and as a nurse, I was sure that I already knew what I was suppose to do. They said something like I couldn’t drive for a week or couldn’t have sex for three days, blah, blah … I’m not sure, I figured I couldn’t have sex while driving and let it go at that. Needless to say, my wife was taking detailed notes. Because she was going to make sure that these intern ramblings, no matter how senseless, were going to return to haunt me for quite some time.
The “cardiac rehab” person and the pharmacist, and several other people who I failed to remember. (keep in mind that I haven’t had caffeine in several days, my ADD was in full bloom) They all paraded through my room as I was getting my stuff together to tell me their own versions of “discharge instructions”. I called for breakfast to pass the time and to dull the ache in my stomach. I asked for some coffee and some toast and jelly. The lady on the other end of the phone said, “now Mr. Taylor, you’re a diabetic, you can’t have jelly…” I was stupefied, “hey, it’s my heart not my pancreas. I’m not a diabetic” the lady insisted saying that was “the orders.” So I ordered eggs, bacon, and pancakes with sugar free syrup. The cardiac guys came in, they were horrified that I was eating bacon and eggs. I said, “hey, who said cardiac, the cafeteria claims I’m on a diabetic diet!” The physician apparently made corrections before my coffee arrived as all I got was decaf Sanka. It was muddy water in a cup. Oh well, I’m heading home in a bit anyhow.
Everyone makes mistakes. It’s only human. It’s natural. It’s just that some are more serious than others. I’ll write more on this later. In the meantime, I gotta get home, get a real nap and then some real food. I’ll keep you updated. Signing out for today. JT
Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, But rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming, “WOW—-WHAT—-A RIDE!!!”