Hospital, nurses, doctors and medicine. Ordinarily we may say that it is a place where we would rather not be; and those are folks we'd prefer to know only socially; it is something we'd rather not take. But, there will come a time when it is the place where we want to be, those are the people we want to tend to us, and yes it is something we willingly want to take into or apply to our bodies.
Continuing on from the last musing in "Longevity Medicine?", this also takes us back to "Through The Eyes See You", (July 11, 2023 post).
But first, a little humor:
"A mechanic was removing a cylinder head from the motor of a car when he spotted a well-known cardiologist in his shop.
The cardiologist was there waiting for the service manager to come and take a look at his car when the mechanic shouted across the garage, “Hey doc, want to take a look at this?”
The cardiologist, a bit surprised, walked over to where the mechanic was working. The mechanic straightened up, wiped his hands on a rag and asked,
“So doc, look at this engine. I opened its heart, took the valves out, repaired or replaced anything damaged, and then put everything back in, and when I finished, it worked just like new. So how is it that I make $48,000 a year and you make $1.7 million when you and I are doing basically the same work?”
The cardiologist paused, leaned over and whispered to the mechanic…
“Try doing it with the engine running”.
It was in the early morning hours of Wednesday (before Thanksgiving) when I took my wife to the ER at the nearby hospital. She complained about severe pain on the left side of her neck, just below the jaw line. Two days earlier, she was seen by a primary care doctor for the same pain. The doctor didn't really find anything wrong based on physically examining her neck. My wife's body temperature was not elevated to indicate an infection. Tylenol seemed to be the only appropriate medication.
She was fine until that Wednesday morning when the pain became unbearable.
Again, there was little the medical staff were able to do for much of the early morning. The ER doctor, in consultation with an off-site EENT doctor via phone, told us that my wife needed an MRI. All of these activities, of course, seem to be in slow motion that took up the rest of the morning. Then it was all about waiting for somebody somewhere to read the results, submit to the off-site EENT specialist, and wait for her recommendation. As can be imagined it was all painstakingly glacial.
MRI indicated a mass of tissue right about where the pain was, between the base of her tonsils and part of the neck muscle. It could be a tumor or some kind of an anomaly (hints of malignancy, reading between the lines). By late afternoon, it was decided that there was a pocket of infected tissue that needed to be drained. The procedure though not a full blown surgery was still going to be partly invasive and required the facilities and expertise of specialists at the main hospital at the Texas Medical Center. This was almost a repeat scenario that I described in "Through The Eyes See You", just over two years ago.
It was nightfall by the time the ambulance transfer occurred. I drove to the hospital shortly afterwards after a quick stop at our home to get her medication and other things she might need while confined.
She was admitted to the ER (again). It was shortly after nine p.m. when I got there. Just about then two young EENT doctors came. (Remember, this was the eve of Thanksgiving). Young as in almost fresh out of a four year college but first impressions vanished when they started talking and examining her. Apparently, one was the senior doctor who was doing much of the talking. They left momentarily, then came back with some science fiction apparatus consisting of a potable gizmo with a video screen and a thin flexible black "snake" (as best as I can describe it) with bright eyes at its "head". He explained that it was going to be uncomfortable as the other doctor inserted the snake into my wife's nostril. As they were doing it, the lead doctor had his camera ready while instructing the other doctor where to go with the probe. He took a series of still pictures as the probe changed locations. I watched the screen and as far as I can tell the probe was taking different views all around what I assumed was the tissue or growth in question. My wife didn't complain about the discomfort.
At about that time the nurse came with a clipboard, pen and some documents for me to sign in preparation for the planned procedure.
The senior doctor told the nurse to hold off on the documentation. He had sent the pictures to the head EENT who I assumed was off-site, probably at home (it was already 10 p.m.). He told me that they will discuss it among themselves (meaning the doctors). He was going to recommend against the procedure to drain and they left. Shortly after, they came back. It was agreed that they go with massive antibiotics through IV which will be done upstairs where my wife was to be confined.
I went home and came back the following morning. All through the night antibiotics flowed through her vein via the IV at 6-hour intervals. She was feeling better. We spent Thanksgiving at the hospital. But, you know what, nurses worked around the clock and doctors came by. They too were spending their Thanksgiving there and at working. I found out later that these doctors, nurses, and staff will have days off around Christmas Day. For these folks it was simply a choice between which holidays they'd be at work.
All throughout, the nurse assigned to my wife came and went at precise intervals, always bubbly in her demeanor and each time explaining what medications she was giving, including administering medicines through syringes into the IV to keep her body's chemical balances appropriately maintained on potassium, sodium, insulin and glucose, etc.
By Friday afternoon, the day after Thanksgiving, the nurse came with the release paperwork signed by the doctor (from somewhere in the hospital because we never did see her or him) and we headed for home.
Hospital, Nurses, Doctors, Medicine.
Today, these are the modern-day dispensers of miracles. We are deeply grateful for the services of all four, including all the hospital staff. But we are particularly grateful for the petite young nurse, barely five feet tall in her thick-soled sneakers, who came and went in and out of the hospital room with her cheerful spirits for the two days that my wife was confined.
