I don’t panic very often when I don’t feel well. No sense making a needless trip to the emergency room if it’s nothing serious. Like an arrow stuck in my head or chopping off my finger while opening a can of Fancy Feast cat food or something.
Besides, have you EVER been to one of those emergency rooms at your local hospital? Then you know what I’m talking about when it comes to waiting till the very last minute to go there.
Because if you felt at least somewhat normal, other than the reason you went there in the first place, you won’t feel that way after sitting in the waiting room waiting your turn. (usually 1 to 2 hours, unless you DO have an arrow sticking out of your head)
Ya see, EVERYBODY in that waiting room has something wrong with them. And Gawd knows what the hell some of them are suffering from. Which, you could in turn catch by just sitting next to them. Unless they’re just plain nuts, which is NOT contagious, unless what they say to you in a conversation about their conditions makes sense to you and you begin to have the same symptoms.
Thank Gawd I did not have to go through the excruciating wait in my local emergency room the other day when I felt it was time to check out some issues I was having. Mainly some chest pains I had been experiencing for over a week and the urge to pop four Viagra pills at the same time to get my mind off of those chest pains.
Interesting concept don’t ya think. Take four Viagra pills = a possible 16 hour erection which would definitely get any guys mind off of having chest pains…..if ya catch my drift here.
Anyhow, the standard rule of hospitals is that anyone who comes into their emergency room complaining of chest pains is to immediately whisk them off to some small ER room where a series of blue colored dressed techs stick things in your body to determine if you are having a heart attack. Or to determine if you’re squeamish about needles.
Which I was not. And, could have told them that if they had just listened to me as I was screaming at the number of holes they were poking in my body to insert several hundred IV’s. Well….it seemed like several hundred at the time.
Sooooo. The good news here is that if you want immediate attention when you go to any emergency room, just tell them you’re having chest pains. The bad news here is that you better be prepared to get poked everywhere and then be prepared to be admitted for an overnight stay in one of their wonderful patient suites.
Now I’m not complaining mind you. I really appreciate the fact that my local hospital takes my well-being seriously enough to want to watch me closely overnight. Just to be sure I’m not really experiencing a heart condition or to determine if I’m just plain nuts and a hypochondriac.
However, what ALWAYS happens to me when I get a nice room with a big picture window overlooking the hospital’s parking lot, (very interesting parking lot activities) is that they give me that nice room and nurse Ratched says to me, “How lucky are you Mr. Misfit. A room all to yourself to just enjoy and relax in.”
Yep…….the patient from hell gets the bed next to me. So like if I wasn’t having heart problems or stressed out when they admitted me, I sure as hell was gonna get both of them from that point on.
It’s bad enough that you’re there so you can unwind, calm down, relax, and wait for the results of all those hole poking blood taking vampire tests. BUT…it gets worse. (we’ll get to the patient from hell in a sec)
First they NEVER let you sleep. It’s like every hospital employee from the docs, nurses, assistants, EKG people, linen staff, janitors, cleaning staff, and vampires, (blood takers) all work only between the hours of 11PM and 6AM. While you’re trying to sleep.
Enter stage left….patient from hell. At 11PM.
I figured he was about 155 years old, did not speak or understand English and rambled on aimlessly………….in that foreign language, which, as I said I didn’t understand nor did any of the hospital staff. Sooooooooooo, so much for a good night’s sleep.
BUT WAIT! It gets even better,
Every 15 minutes throughout the night the guy needs some attention. AND….because he doesn’t speak any English they need a translator, which. can only be accessed by phone, which, means the nurse has to dial him up, ask him to translate her question to the patient, then hand the phone to the patient, then he answers the question, then gives the phone back to the nurse and so on.
A simple “How ya doin’?” takes 15 freakin’ minutes. Which went on several times during the course of the entire night.
Then……because the guy kept getting outta bed they stuck an alarm on him so that they would know if he attempted to get up. Which, went off every 15 minutes.
Then……because they were too busy to respond to one of those alarms, just as I was about to finally doze off, I look up and this naked guy is walking in front of my bed, Woody in his hand, looking for the bathroom, and peeing on the floor at the same time!
So as I’m having my stress test the next morning the doc says to me. “Geez…..you really ARE stressed out. You’d think after spending a nice relaxing night in that wonderful scenic room you’d be all kinds of relaxed.”
I just gave him a sneer.
I DID manage to pass the stress test. I also have no heart issues. And they then gave me an “A-OK” to be dismissed with a prescription for an antibiotic because they felt I might have a bug or something. And a temporary inhaler to help me breathe a bit easier.
BUT……now I need to make an appointment with my psychiatrist so that he can get that constant image outta my mind of seeing a naked 155 year old guy.
OMFG! I’m getting stressed out again!!!
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