Ever feel like this?

The baby can represent anything.

Your family.

Your job.

Your life.

All of the above.

I re-discovered something I had noticed long before.

Life doesn’t stop because you need to stop.

Kids still need driving.

Clothes need washing.

Houses need cleaning and

Suitcases need packing because you are leaving in less than 48 hours and your husband is only two days post op and he can’t lift anything or drive because he’s on Vicodin and arrangements need to be made for your daughter who is running you at 100 mph because she is 16 and that is her slow speed……

I am woman, watch me faint….

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John was discharged that morning but not until we had made the acquaintance of nicest, gregarious women I’ve ever met.

She happened to be John’s hospitalist for discharge.

In the room she was calm, easy-going and encouraged questions, especially from the “secretary” ensconced in the corner with her computer (me).

Outside the room she was running. You would never have guessed that she was so busy.

Bedside manner extraordinaire.

She gave me a couple of duties:

  • Find out if my doctor would take John as a patient.
  • Let her know so she could talk to him.

Well, my doctor, having absorbed over 100 patients from my retired doctor’s practice was not taking on new patients. So (light bulb going on over my head), I ask for a referral to an internist/endocrinologist and receive a name.

Great!

I call Dr. Endo’s office and they will accept John if his A1c level meets their criteria. In other words….ya gotta be a REAL diabetic to make his list! John made the list and an appointment was scheduled before the hospitalist left the floor.

Then Dr. God-the-Spitfire Surgeon came in to remove the Jackson-Pratt drain from John’s abdomen. I made the mistake of asking just how far in the tubing went. Remember, it was exiting below the belly-button.

“Well….(you pain in the ass peon in the corner), it was where the gallbladder was.”

Uh…oh, sorry, I should have known that. Please allow me to kiss your shoe coverings as a penance for my ignorance.

Actually, you saved my husband’s life so you can insult me all you want.

About twelve inches.

John blanched.

She pulled.

John yelled.

And this man was a former Marine, so he does NOT complain of pain unless he really feels it.

Said he’d rather go through boot camp again.

That ’bout sums that up!

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We had good news that morning.

First of all, no insulin! John would be managed with Metformin as it seemed he was making insulin but was not able to use it (insulin resistance). He would see his new doctor in three weeks but in the meantime he would check his blood sugar four times a day to get a pattern established.

We could do this!

Not only that, but Elvira (that was really her name) was John’s nurse that morning/afternoon of discharge and she was everything a nurse should be.

Available, efficient, did not rush the discharge but made John stay for his lunch because she had medicated him with insulin and didn’t want to take a chance he would have a reaction at home, even though the MD said he could leave. And she put one more IV antibiotic through the IV before he left because it was up from the pharmacy and he needed it!

There was no arguing with Elvira! You could just feel she was there for her patients, not just going through the motions.

Oh thank the lord, there is hope for my profession yet!

I took the time to grab the Accucheck, the prescriptions and run to the pharmacy for both.

And then I picked up John from the hospital with a wonderful set of discharge instructions from God-the-Spitfire Surgeon.

Impressive.

(Next: The Learning Curve, American Idol and Support from my job…..NOT!)