In-patient (Should it be Impatient?)

After being settled into room 322, bed 1, it finally sank in that there was to be no testing tonight (duh). I sent Russ along home since nothing was going on. I had a small turkey sandwich because I was told that I could not eat after midnight due to the stress test I was to have the next day. Eating is a very low priority in the hospital.

I tried to read, watch tv but couldn't concentrate. Of course, the chest pain was in hiding now that I was in the hospital. I was certain that everyone thought I was faking or that it wasn't as bad as I said. I let it all whirl around in my head for a while then I asked for a sleeping pill and gave it up for the night.

I would have slept alright (for some strange reason, I usually do in the hospital) except that, as I have mentioned, the IV was stuck into the inside of my elbow. I continued to wake during the night because I was lying on my bent elbow and the whole thing was digging in.

I was awakened by Bea. Bea was a very pleasant woman around my age or so. No matter what, Bea always kept a pleasant attitude. Unfortunately, I think she managed her pleasant attitude by not listening to a word I said. (Later, that was to be a good thing.)

As is usual in a hospital, the day started with the draining of a bucket of blood. Fortunately, I already had a handy portal in the inside of my elbow. I suggested that the nurse make use of that handy portal. She pretended to make the attempt but alas, it was a no go. Just have to stick me in the back of my right hand. (???I don't know.)

After a while I wandered to the nurses station to find out when the festivities were scheduled to begin. The staff was apparently very busy and had no information to offer. I was sent back to my room.

I did manage to get their attention, however when I pointed out that blood was pouring down my arm from the handy IV in my inner elbow. Clearly they would have liked to finished what they were doing but it's hard to ignore a person standing in the middle of the corridor with blood pouring down their arm from a handy portal in their inner elbow. It just doesn't look good for business.

Someone I never saw again (I assume she was a nurse.) came and tried to staunch the flow. I recommended that there may be a better place for the handy IV portal than my inner elbow. This person considered my suggestion. Encouraged by her attentiveness, I suggested that perhaps one of the enormous veins in my wrist and hand might make an excellent location. She agreed.

Although it is common in my family, I had not previously had a problem with my veins "rolling". Apparently it was now a problem. However, nameless "nurse" had a clever solution. She poked a needle into the vein on my hand, thus rendering the vein immobile and then went about an inch upstream and inserted the new handy IV portal. She then removed the stake, uh needle. After a liberal application of tape to my exceptionally hairy arms, she left. My inner elbow felt wonderful.

After a bit, a nice man came and said that before having my stress test, he needed to inject some nuclear something into my system to make the tracking of my blood system possible. You will never believe how he did it. He injected it into the handy IV portal in my wrist! What a nice man.

Not long after, a young lady came with a wheel chair and wheeled my down the hall to do a CT scan. This is where they get the "Before" picture of my heart. The CT scan is a huge machine with a hole in the middle from which issues a platform approximately 7 feet long and one foot wide. I asked the man how people ( & I was sure there must be a fair number of them) who are extremely overweight manage the foot wide platform. He said that under the fat, we're all about the same size. Hmmmm.
I was told to lie down on this and raise my arm above and over my head. (I was very glad for the absence of the IV in my inner elbow.) I stayed in that position for about 15 minutes as the machine rotated around my chest and stopped from time to time to take pictures.

I was happy to see that things were now rolling along.

After the CT scan was complete, I was rolled out into the hall. I was told that it may take as much as 20 minutes for the Echo room was available. I asked to be wheeled back to my room. Along the way, I found Russ. I was very glad to see him.

After a while another young lady came with another wheelchair and said that I was to have a CAT scan, not to be confused with a CT scan. A CAT scan is similar to the CT scan in appearance although to me it looks much more modern. The platform that I was told to lie on was considerably wider and padded. The machine itself was like a smooth doughnut turned on it's side. Within the doughnut was an area that turned, slowly at first but sped up until it was a blur spinning around me. I closed my eyes (No breakfast, spinning doughnut...).

From there I was taken to my room.

After another little while, a woman came to my room. She was tall & round, about my age and kind of lumbered when she walked. Her hair was vivid red. She had short bangs, obviously cut with the aid of a ruler and the rest of her hair looked like a flat helmet. She was a little odd to look at. She told me that she would be doing my Echo Cardiogram. She had several people to do but she would slip me in. She asked if I could walk down the hall and I told her I could so off we went.

I had to lie in a very cold room while "Red" sweated and smeared gel on my chest. She spent the next 15 or 20 minutes pressing a probe into my chest until I was sure I would be black and blue. That would have been bad since she seemed to have a particular dislike of one of those colors. She spent almost the entire time I was there (when not telling me how overworked she was and how she hadn't eaten. Excuse me!?!, Still fasting here.) telling me how "THEY" were taking over. She wouldn't go near Century Plaza because "THEY" had taken over. "THEY" are everywhere. Keep in mind that this monolague was carried on in a normal tone of voice with the door wide open and nothing but a curtain separating us from the hallway where all of the patients and coworkers were passing and stopping in from time to time. Aside from her obvious shortcoming, Not too bright!

The Echo Cardiogram was finally finished and I was sent to the hallway to sit with other miserable, waiting patients. I pretended to be asleep. There was a good reason for that. One of the funniest and most annoying characters I'd come across in a long time was waiting in the hall. She was a little, elderly woman who spoke in a high pitched voice at least three times the normal speed. She would tell the poor sucker next to me something and then ask her the same thing. "I'm here for a stress test. Are you here for a stress test. I've got a bad heart do you have a bad heart." She told poor sucker all about an old woman she hauls everywhere. She apparently doesn't get an appropriate amount of gratitude for this and the woman has kids but they won't help her. They just let little old lady do everything. She's not going to put up with being treated like that. Would you , poor sucker, let someone treat you like that? Well little old lady isn't. She wants to do what's right. Don't you, poor sucker? But little old lady don't want them taking advantage of her any more. If you ask me, the old woman deserves a medal for listening to little old lady.

To be continued. (There Jamie)