Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Pee Poop


Care. Angels!
I experienced an unexpected need for health care and a fast visit to the hospital.
All through my life there were tragic medical errors that had negative effects on some of my dearest loved ones.  And these events happened in spite of the well meaning and well qualified medical people involved in the situations. 
As a result I am always wary when it comes to medical attention.  But truthfully I think its 'wanting a good outcome' that makes it difficult to not delegate decision making to others.  The fact is, people do shit.  Whether on purpose or not.  And most of the time, if its 'care givers' who are responsible, they do the poop because they get so used to doing the same thing, for what looks like the same condition, for many people.  Its so similar they often do not notice when 'this time', there may be  something different.   And the instance I'm talking about is what happened to me when I had to go to  the hospital.
Of course I'm not talking about those who do poop because they think it will help them become a decision maker.  That poop is done on purpose and it happens world wide and its part of the human condition.  Always was that way and always will be. 
When this started out, I didn't know it but I had an urinary infection and it resulted in my being almost completely disoriented. 
I was laying on my divan watching TV.   CSPAN had someone on who was being creative with the truth.  Reminding me of that Cruz guy from Texas who I believe is a nut and stupid on purpose.  Do you think guys like  Sen. Cruz would cheat to get good grades in school?  I do.  Wait a minute.  (Why is this kinda stuff getting through to me like this?)
I became aware that something unusual was happening, I reached over and picked up my phone to call my daughter . . .  and I couldn't do it.  Now, there's a shocker.  The physical part of getting the phone wasn't a problem.  I could reach it from the divan.  My cel phone was in my pocket.  My pocket was in my pants.  My pants were hanging up near the bed.  And I could think of lifting myself off of the divan, but I couldn't do it. What?
Well let me try calling again with my line phone.  Nope.  Cant do it.  Get out of here.  Try it again.  Nope.  My mind said, "Try counting to  25."  Now my mind knew I was disoriented.  25?  Shit, anybody can count to 25.  Why would you even have to try it??  But, I could not get to eleven without going back to ten.  And I was aware of it.  And then I could make it to 25 if you don't count one or more back ups.  I actually thought I had passed away and it was just like it is in one of those heaven themed movie, movies.  I was on my way to visit with the man upstairs when this nutty stuff started happening.   
Wait a minute, anybody can dial a freakin phone.  Give me that thing.  Nope.  It felt like the first time I picked up an ipod.  I have one of those and I'm still not good with some stuff on it.  But now I'm getting scared. 
I know what I'll do, I'll dial 9.1.1.  Anybody can do that.  Right?  Wanna bet?  What the hell?  Dialing 9,1,1 doesn't do it.  Get the freak out of here.  What the hell am I doing wrong?  Everybody knows if you have an emergency you pick up a phone and dial 911.  That will get you the emergency response.  No it doesn't.  Not if you have to get a dial tone first.  And if you have a new tech walk-around phone, like I have, you have to push a button that indicates its ready, and then you can hear that the dial tone is dial toning.  That was what I was not doing.  (For the future, I can solve this problem.  Simple.  All walk- around phones should  have another way of turning on;  The number 9.)   That's just common sense.  Like James Carville always said or Ed Whitacre when he was explaining how he could do magical-like stuff in businesses he had no experience with.   But I don't expect businesses to spend the money to fix this problem because the scale of the problem is too small.   So forget it.  To hell with this problem, I never heard of it before now.  Back to what was happening  to me.  So?  What did I do?  Let me see, common sense.  I know, I thought, I'll just keep dialing 911 until it works.  Didn't work?  Then do it again.  And again.  What with dropping the damn phone a couple of times, a voice finally comes on and says, (I think)  are you calling 911?   Whooops!
I don't remember what I said.  But it was said very fast and included,  "I'm disoriented.  My front  door is open.  (I hadn't locked it yet.)  If somebody comes, tell them to just walk in, turn left and go into my bedroom.  (Get out of here, its a right turn.)  That's where I am."  She asked a lot of questions and I remember answering, yes, yes, yes, yes, or, no, no, no, no.. You know questions like "are you alone?"  That's one of the yes answers.   
I remember saying they're not here yet.  After I told her my address I thought  to myself, "She has my address, its probably on her screen."  That was me thinking.  In my mind.  Good.  I am still in it.  How did that get through the disorientation.  And then it seemed like a lot of people were in the house..  Next thing I remember is almost all complete disorientation and more disorientation with some small amounts of clear 'thinking' mixed in, and then, 'why the hell isn't somebody taking care of me.'  I know where I am.  I'm in the emergency ward at Mount Sinai.  Maybe, probably, they have some people here with more important stuff wrong with them and they'll get to the old fart in a minute.  Disorientation . . . ceilings . . . elevators . . . but I wouldn't bet on the elevators. 
Next thing.  I hear, "He hasn't passed any urine.  Yet."  Now this I positively remember.  I had finished my toiletries and I was ready for bed.  That was at the onset of this nonsense.  So I wasn't ready to pee, I had just peed.  And, I have a platelet problem that has to be considered.  So maybe . . . . . things  
slowed down  a bit, and then I heard 'catheter'.  "Wait a minute!!"

It hurts.   (Shutterstock)
I think I yelled it, "Don't you have to ask the patient on stuff like that."  Somebody said, "Yes."  "Good", I said, "NO CATHETER!! GOT IT?? NO CATHETER!!"  Next thing I remember, I'm awake.  The back of my hand hurts.  There is some kind of contraption  covering the back of my hand.  Its held on with scotch tape.  And, my pecker hurts!!  Shit, I look down, its hard to find the little guy, and the sheet or blanket or sheet blanket is all covered with blood stains.  I'm thinking, "If this was during the HIV scare the whole hospital would  be evacuated."  And not only that, the little guy, he is hurting like hell.  I must have moved while sleeping and caused the catheter to scrape and cause  blood to flow.  And now, I do have to go. 
I have a premonition; "This is not going to go well."  So cautiously, and I mean cautiously, I start to pee.  Omg.  Its pure blood.  At least it looks like pure blood thru the catheter.  And it hurts, hurts, hurts!  A nice looking nurse comes in.  She asks me how do I feel?  Her timing was perfect.    I say,  "Is this the way it should go?"  She says, "what are you talking about?"  I say, "Well, I came into the hospital completely disoriented and now, I am not only disoriented, I'm hurting like hell, and I'm peeing pure blood.  Is this on purpose?? 
First!  Get that catheter the hell out of there.  If you cant find it easily, just follow the yellow (brick) tube." 
"You're laughing and so am I.  But one of us is secretly crying and it ain't you.  So get that thing out of there.  The sooner the better,  and if you are going to do it, tell me first, so I  can close my eyes.  I certainly don't want to associate something as pretty as you with the pain in my pecker."  I'm still disoriented but I'm making sense.
Next thing I know the catheter is out.   I pee 2 more times and it looks a lot less red and then, suddenly;  ITS OVER.  The disorientation is gone!  My mind was clear. 
I got out of the bed and walked to the toilet.  My pee looked beautiful. (Just a little red)  I called the nurse  to tell her, and ask, "When is the doctor going to see me?"  And she says in the morning.  I say, "Well its all over, and I want to get the hell out of here as soon as possible.  How early do they let you out of here in the morning?"  She says, "You are scheduled for some tests in the morning.  A scan . . . . ."
"Hold it" I say, . . "No tests.  That means NO TESTS!!"  She is trying to protest and I say, "Look I am looking for ways to get out of here and you are looking for ways to keep me in here.  So forget it.  You have to get my permission, don't you?  Well, I aint disoriented and I'm not giving anybody any permission to do anything if there is not something indicating it should be done."  I'm astonished they paid any attention at all.  But thankfully, it was, over. 
As soon as I got  home I ate one of those new Brownie Bites that tastes like a 'Tasty-Cake' cup cake.  Tasted so good I thought,    
"Can't be good for me."
 
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