have a holly jolly
here's a story for Terroni.
This is about small towns and their medical capabilities (or lack thereof). Note: this is all hearsay--I was not there. Also: there's a point near the end where it gets a little dicey for those with weak stomachs. You've been warned.
Backstory: my mom has a history of diverticulitis (little areas of your intestine that get inflamed, especially if you have a low-fiber diet and like to eat too much popcorn, like my mom does). So it was only a matter of time before she had to have surgery. She knew it; she just didn't expect it to be over Christmas.
It's pretty invasive, but I'll spare the heavy details. Suffice it to say, surgery goes well, all is good, except mom doesn't play well with painkillers. Or rather, they don't play well with her. She tends to hyper-react to them and occasionally go into anaphylaxis. Good times for all. Luckily, she's in the hospital and they're watching over her, right? Let's see how this plays out.
Scene: mom's in a hospital bed. She has a tube in her stomach to remove anything that gets in there, because due to the surgery her whole GI system has gone on strike.
Mom (to herself): hmm, throat's starting to close up on me. Must be a reaction to the painkillers. Better call the nurse. [presses button]
Nurse enters scene.
Nurse: I see you're having some allergic reactions. I'll get some benedryl.
Nurse leaves and comes back a few minutes later with a benedryl pill.
Mom: Um...I have a tube in my stomach to remove anything that goes in there, including benedryl pills. [she thinks to herself: don't they have liquid? Or something they could put in my IV?]
Nurse: ah. You're right. I'll just shut off that pump thingie and give it to you anyways.
An hour passes. Mom realizes she's getting worse. Hard to breathe now. She buzzes for the nurse again. The nurse enters.
Mom (more frantically): Okay, this isn't working. If I were at home I'd be using my Epi-pen right now.
Nurse: Okay. Good to know. I'll go get one.
Nurse leaves and returns after some time with an epi-pen. Mom wonders (again) why they can't just give her something in her IV.
Nurse: I've never given one of these before--can you administer it to yourself?
Mom (alarmed): No, I'm stapled all the hell up my abdomen and going into anaphylaxis. (to herself: you're the damn nurse--what the fuck?)
The nurse proceeds to read the instructions, gets a little flustered, and tries it anyway.
Mom: You have to take off the cap on the end.
Nurse: Oh. Right.
Mom: Make sure you press hard and hold it down until it clicks.
Nurse removes cap, takes the large plastic cylinder in her hand and prepares to jam it into mom's leg. She presses. Mom, luckily, feels no pain from the injection.
Nurse: Ohhh... I'm bleeding!
The nurse has injected the epi-pen upside down, sending the needle through her thumb.
Mom: Honey, you better get down to the E.R. -- they're going to have to watch your heart now because of the epipinephrine.
Nurse exits scene. I assume at some point someone came in and administered the epi-pen correctly.
As I said, I wasn't there. My mom could have imagined the whole thing in a drug-induced stupor, but I suspect it's more sad truth than fiction. The moral? There is still a nurse shortage in the U.S., especially in small towns.
This is about small towns and their medical capabilities (or lack thereof). Note: this is all hearsay--I was not there. Also: there's a point near the end where it gets a little dicey for those with weak stomachs. You've been warned.
Backstory: my mom has a history of diverticulitis (little areas of your intestine that get inflamed, especially if you have a low-fiber diet and like to eat too much popcorn, like my mom does). So it was only a matter of time before she had to have surgery. She knew it; she just didn't expect it to be over Christmas.
It's pretty invasive, but I'll spare the heavy details. Suffice it to say, surgery goes well, all is good, except mom doesn't play well with painkillers. Or rather, they don't play well with her. She tends to hyper-react to them and occasionally go into anaphylaxis. Good times for all. Luckily, she's in the hospital and they're watching over her, right? Let's see how this plays out.
Scene: mom's in a hospital bed. She has a tube in her stomach to remove anything that gets in there, because due to the surgery her whole GI system has gone on strike.
Mom (to herself): hmm, throat's starting to close up on me. Must be a reaction to the painkillers. Better call the nurse. [presses button]
Nurse enters scene.
Nurse: I see you're having some allergic reactions. I'll get some benedryl.
Nurse leaves and comes back a few minutes later with a benedryl pill.
Mom: Um...I have a tube in my stomach to remove anything that goes in there, including benedryl pills. [she thinks to herself: don't they have liquid? Or something they could put in my IV?]
Nurse: ah. You're right. I'll just shut off that pump thingie and give it to you anyways.
An hour passes. Mom realizes she's getting worse. Hard to breathe now. She buzzes for the nurse again. The nurse enters.
Mom (more frantically): Okay, this isn't working. If I were at home I'd be using my Epi-pen right now.
Nurse: Okay. Good to know. I'll go get one.
Nurse leaves and returns after some time with an epi-pen. Mom wonders (again) why they can't just give her something in her IV.
Nurse: I've never given one of these before--can you administer it to yourself?
Mom (alarmed): No, I'm stapled all the hell up my abdomen and going into anaphylaxis. (to herself: you're the damn nurse--what the fuck?)
The nurse proceeds to read the instructions, gets a little flustered, and tries it anyway.
Mom: You have to take off the cap on the end.
Nurse: Oh. Right.
Mom: Make sure you press hard and hold it down until it clicks.
Nurse removes cap, takes the large plastic cylinder in her hand and prepares to jam it into mom's leg. She presses. Mom, luckily, feels no pain from the injection.
Nurse: Ohhh... I'm bleeding!
The nurse has injected the epi-pen upside down, sending the needle through her thumb.
Mom: Honey, you better get down to the E.R. -- they're going to have to watch your heart now because of the epipinephrine.
Nurse exits scene. I assume at some point someone came in and administered the epi-pen correctly.
As I said, I wasn't there. My mom could have imagined the whole thing in a drug-induced stupor, but I suspect it's more sad truth than fiction. The moral? There is still a nurse shortage in the U.S., especially in small towns.
random bits cobbled together by j-dub
6 Comments:
Um, wow. And the nurse didn't think it was a good idea to find someone who did know how to help your mom? Whenever I got into situation at the clinic where I felt like I was in over my head, I just called in someone with better knowledge.
Then, the nurse manager calls the resident to explain...
Nurse: Uh, Mrs Baby Seal seemed to have a little allergic reaction to the morphine.
Me: By little allergic reaction, do you mean that she's a bit itchy? Or do you mean that you're about to hit the code button?
Nurse: No...she's fine. I mean, she's better now that we gave her the epi. The thing is, the first epi-pen we gave sorta... malfunctioned, so we had to give her another one.
Me: Malfunctioned?
Nurse: Yeah. Malfunctioned. So, if you could just put in two orders for epi and note that they were already given, then our counts will be correct when pharmacy does the audit.
Me: I'll be up in a minute to see the patient.
(hangs up, shakes head, sighs)
Blake: What now?
Me: Sounds like nursing misfired an epi-pen again. Going to head upstairs to make sure they're just killing themselves tonight and not the patients.
Blake: God, it's like last week when the new one somehow managed to give himself 12 units of insulin...as if I have nothing better to do than treat a moron's hypoglycemia.
I'm glad your mom's ok.
Tell her to take her epi-pen with her to the hospital next time. She should hide it in her makeup bag.
This phenomenon is not unique to small town medical centers. For every ten amazing, smarter than I'll ever be nurses, there is always one...
T, I love your addition, which somehow both calms and alarms me.
And is this phenomenon particular to nurses? I have met two pediatricians who cannot plot and interpret numbers on a growth chart and one who miscalculated (by a factor of eight) the amount of iron I should give my son. And these are the only three pediatricians I have met since coming to the US. I have stopped searching.
Anon, sadly I think this phenomenon afflicts every part of our culture, in different ways. In my line of work, I've known brilliant engineers who couldn't manage to write an understandable paragraph to explain their brilliant idea.
(which, if you take the long view, is similar to why the Challenger exploded.)
so, good luck in your continuing pediatrician search. There are many fantastic doctors out there. Hopefully one is near you.
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