Once again I'm astounded by the things people come to the ER for. I actually had a kid who came in at 11:30 at night for an ingrown toenail.
I've been to the ER once in my life, and that was because a glass-top patio table shattered all over my foot. I had a deep cut in the top of my toe. My boyfriend at the time wanted me to go to the hospital right away, and I wanted to wait for it to stop bleeding. And we were on vacation, so I didn't want to spend hours in the ER. Six hours later, though, it hadn't stopped; I had bled through several pressure dressings. I finally acquiesced, and off we went. Turned out I had a piece of glass in there, which was why it wasn't stopping. After five stitches and a conversation with a very nice ER nurse, I went back to our little beach house and decided to go to nursing school.
Here are two things I didn't go to the ER for. As a matter of fact, it never even occurred to me.
I had been working very hard for weeks, going to work and traveling for my job in publishing while I had the flu. I was under heavy deadlines, a lot of pressure, and one morning I woke up feeling like hot coals were living in my chest. My eyes were burning, and I couldn't seem to catch my breath. I called my doctor's office, and expected to get the answering service, since it was about 7 am; I was trying to see what time they opened so I could call back. Much to my surprise, my doc himself answered. He heard what I sounded like and said, "How quick can you get here? Take a taxi if you have to." When I got there, he took my vitals and a quick exam (104 F fever, 02 sat of 91 on room air, resp rate of 26) and sent me for a chest x-ray next door. Pneumonia. He wanted to admit me but I was vehemently opposed. I made a deal: If I wasn't feeling better after three days of rest, antibiotics, and fluids, I would come in to be admitted. He agreed on the condition that I took at least ten days off work to recuperate. (It was also my birthday.) He even called my boss and HER boss. Of course, they FedExed me work to my apartment, but whatever. I got better.
The second story: When I first started playing guitar in a band, I used to keep my equipment at our rehearsal space and ride my motorcycle to and from rehearsal. One day as I was leaving the studio, it started to rain. Being young and stupid, I figured I could hurry home before it got too bad. In an attempt to keep dry, I rode on a street under an elevated roadway. I didn't know that when it rains on an elevated roadway, all the grease and oil on that surface gets washed off onto the street below. So as I tried to stop for a red light, I started fishtailing and skidding all over the place, but not stopping. I had a choice: dump the bike or skid right into the traffic at the intersection. I flew off the bike and slid across the three-lane street on my side. Did I mention I was wearing black stretch pants, boots, and a t-shirt? Smart choice of attire. (At least I was wearing a full-face helmet!) I got up a little shakily and started limping back to my bike. A guy in a truck offered to take me to the hospital. I turned around in a circle and asked, "Why? Are there bones sticking out of me or something that I can't see?" My knee was swelling up, I had some road rash, and I had the word "YAMAHA" stamped in a bruise on the inside of my left calf. Two guys from a nearby store came out and helped me pick my bike up. It started fine, and I rode it the rest of the way home (about two miles), even though the front alignment was off and I had to go about ten miles an hour the whole way. I got home and limped upstairs, where I cleaned all my boo-boos, took some Motrin, and sat down in front of the TV with a beer. I put my sore leg up and iced my swollen knee, and never rode in the rain again. (At least not without full leathers on!)
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I severed a tendon a few years ago, which I did go to the hospital for, after all, I had a 3" lac on my thumb. Anyway, the day after my plastic surgery to repair the tendon I started vomiting and passing coffee ground like stuff. I called the pharmacy because I didn't know what was happening and they told me I was having a GI bleed. Well, my mother was in the hospital at the time so no one told me to go to the ER so I didn't. In hindsight however, I really wish I had; the whole thing lasted 4 days and I had to clean up myself after losing control of various bodily functions in my sleep. Not fun.
Damn woman, you one tough chick!
People in emergency medicine hate to become patients and we make the worst ones when we do.
We'll do exactly what we tell the public not to do. We delay, we deny, we minimize, we temporize.
"I'll go to the hospital tomorrow if this chest pain seems worse".
"This persistent cough and yucky yellow stuff can't be Pneumonia, it's just a bad cold".
If these two incident happened before you became a nurse, it's just proof that you were destined to. If they happened after, it's just more proof of what I said!
I'm not dead.
I'm getting better.
I don't want to go on the cart.
I feel fine.
I think I'll go for a walk.
I feel happy. I feel happy.
I must admit, I did that at home, in Canada. Once. BUT I was not a screaming fiend over the fact that I was not The.Most.Important. person in the waiting room, and I told my friend who took me there that if she wanted to, she could go home and I'd catch a cab.
I had been at school for 5 straight 12 hour shifts, and tried the at home remedies. Nothing worked, and I was worried about missing class time *which was a no no* so I went to the ER to have it fixed and get antibiotics.
But it's all in your attitude, really. If you go in screaming because your toenail didn't come before the MVA or something more important, you're just being a dick.
You think I'm having a kid with YOU? There will be no bike in your future, and that includes a Vespa... uh, uh, don't even get started. Shut it.
BTW my bowling injury still hurts. Waahhhh. (But I'm not going to the doc.)
- husband
I can see it now - GuitarGirl on a tricycle up on stage acting like Angus Young.
And you could have been a drummer for Spinal Tap, but No - youve got to play guitar. :-)
I have always been deathly afraid of motorcycles and it took my ex-hubby 2 years to get me on the back of his - we rode around all weekend through the mountains & I thought I had conquered my fear - then he turned a corner at less than 5mph & dumped it. He said the cross-walk paint was slippery. My knee got crushed between the bike & the pavement. The ambulance came & patched up my knee & offered to take me to the er. I passed & rode home on the back of the bike. I have NEVER been on it again & the next day my knee was so swollen & painful that I did go to urgent care who said it was a bad contusion or somthing & gave me pain meds that rocked! But I didn't go to the er! My insurance paid out $4000 to me for my injury too! And I've had 2 kids all natural & let me tell ya - my knee hurt like a bitch the next day!
LMAO Anon/hubby!
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