Ten hours later, having played the doctor card a few times mainly to get test results and he is admitted. I truly believe if I hadn’t been here they would have sent him home.
And nothing against the nurses but I can’t believe no one did a single set of vitals in 10 hours. Ten hours!!
As we left the ER to go to CT the nurses start scrambling to get him meds and actually do vitals. Unfreakingbelievable.
I always knew that getting an ER assessment if you aren’t bleeding or obviously dying (read: not breathing, no pulse etc) takes a while. I tell my patients this frequently when I feel their condition warrants more urgent assessment. But the lack of communication was something I was not expecting. At no time during the 10 hours we were in the ER were we ever told anything without me having to ask first.
As I sit across the hall from my dad’s hospital room waiting for the internist to tell us the results of the CT scan, the day’s events are on playback mode in my brain. From the moment I saw him sitting in that wheelchair pale and diaphoretic to the moment he got admitted, none of that would have happened had I not been there to speak for my parents and advocate for my dad.
No, it’s not just his regular back pain.
Why is he diaphoretic?
Why is he still tachycardic?
Why doesn’t he have any appetite?