HONESTY OR SAFETY?

A few days ago I wrote a blog about honesty.

But now I am going to tell you why I, er, didn't exactly lie, but definitely did not reveal, ah, all the available information.

I know all about what chest pain can/may/does reveal - hey, if nothing else, I worked for the American Heart Association for almost seven years - and I was CPR-certified - and man, can you image being administered to by Charlie and Desmond... okay, just Desmond (sigh).

Okay, back to the story line here, Hope.

My husband has been taken (by me) numerous times to the emergency room with the checklist of symptoms that fit a heart attack to a T - severe and sudden chest pressure, pain radiating down one or both arms, shortness of breath.

And each and every time, after the EKG, blood tests, monitoring and sitting for several hours, the doctors scratch their heads, and admit that although they have NO no idea what this is, it was certainly NOT a heart attack.

So my little episodes of chest pressure, not really PAIN, in the evening, usually last about an hour or two - I've explained it away to myself as tension (my husband is home after work hours - enough said) - mentioned it to my regular physician - made an appointment with a cardiologist for early next month.

Which was all fine and great... until yesterday.

Yesterday I woke up to find a bowling ball sitting right in the middle of my chest.

No, not a real one, silly, but it felt like that. And although it was heavier than my regular chest pressure, I waited for it to go away.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally, after almost twelve hours of it, I decided that I would have to do something - otherwise, I'd either stay up all night or go ahead and take my sleeping medication and drift off to sleep expecting to die in my sleep.

(I'm not quite there just yet)

So to me, at least, the obvious, logical answer was to drive myself the 20 miles or so to the nearest emergency room.

My husband can't drive after dark, let alone in the rain - and it was almost 7 p.m., with thunder and lightening surrounding our area [SIDEBAR: It is only in Arizona that we get excited about the FORECAST for 'possible' MOISTURE]

And my son was sound asleep, and would be going into work at 4:30 a.m.

If I had a real heart attack, I could just call 911 - but after 12 hours of the same pain, I mean, come ON - it was obviously something else.

And I hate hate hate being in an emergency room when you are NOT the emergency - and I am fully aware of how irritable my husband gets (when he IS the emergency and when he is NOT the emergency) - and I saw no reason to wake my SON up to take me.

Okay, okay - maybe I was not "up-front" - but that isn't lying - and it wasn't anything to do with my heart.

(And they have no idea WHAT is causing it - guess I just need to stop going to the lanes so much)

And no, Henry Ian Cusick (Desmond) wasn't there - maybe next time.

THE SHOE ON THE OTHER FOOT

As a parent, there are times that your heart simply jumps into your throat.

When your child does not get off the school bus you have been waiting for.

The first time they drive off in your car without you.

Their first date, or dance, or year at college.

Having a child is having your heart live outside of your body.

Last night, my son got to experience that sensation.

I had told him I was going to be at a church meeting Thursday evening, and I even had put it on the family calendar.

However, my husband decided at the last moment to also attend this same meeting.

So our son came home to an empty house - no note from us about where we were - and only one car gone (which somehow threw the world every more off balance).

And the dogs refused to tell him where we had gone to.

He called our cell phones (which were both off since we were at the church) - called his sisters - the state highway patrol - he even called the emergency room at the hospital just to make certain we hadn't been in some horrible massacre or terrorist attach (which would have been masochist bliss for his dad, that's for sure).

Poetic justice... at last.

STEAK AND KIDNEY PIE

I love modern medicine. I honestly do. I would not be alive today without it.

Hmm.... but I also would not have had some life-threatening issues without modern medicine.

But, really, it's great.

In fact, I need to share some parts of the final radiology report from last night's (well, actually this morning's part of) ER visit:

-"The visualized portions of the lung bases are unremarkable"

- "The liver, spleen, adrenal glands, gallbladder and pancreas demonstrate no acute abnormalities"

- "The large and small bowel are unremarkable."

Maybe it's just me, but haven't they just insulted eight of my internal organs?

But the best one of all,

- "The uterus is not seen most compatible with surgical removal."

That just makes me laugh.

The doctors, PAs, nurses, technicians and receptionists are all obligated to tell you or provide with a piece of paper that lists every single possible outcome of your condition (heart failure, kidney failure, dandruff and/or nightmares about intimate relationships with Ed Helms)

They must also have you sign copious amounts of legal paperwork (when you have seriously bruised your back and cannot raise your hand above your waist) that state you will not, under any circumstance:

- Sue any individual employed at the medical facility (although Marthing, Bething and Jennifering, as far as I can tell, have not been heavily contested in the court system yet - give it time)

- Take any of their advice in any manner other than the one they intended (i.e., "stay well-hydrated" does not justify going off on a week-long bender, and "return to er for any other concerns" isn't for filing for tax extension or marital counseling)

- Understand that any doctor, nurse or technician flirting with you after 11:45 p.m. is simply their trying to remain conscious after a fourteen hour shift, and is not to be taken seriously by the patient or any accompanying spouse (good thing I had my son drive me in, not my husband)

- "Avoid heavy lifting and strenuous activity for the next few days" is the same as telling that to a mother returning home with two little kids there already - ain't gonna happen.

But it finally became apparent to all health-care professionals involved with my case (which turned out to be about seventy-four) that I have a RENAL CONTUSION - which means my kidney has a boo-boo.

I am supposed to follow up with my doctor about "a few small nonspecific mesenteric lymph nodes" (do you still have those things when you've had a full hysterectomy?) were 'noted'.

At least they kept their dignity - they were NOT called "unremarkable".

I AIN'T GOT NOBODY - I GOT ABOUT 85

Think about where you would LEAST like to spend seven hours on a Friday evening.

You are CORRECT, sir - waiting in the emergency room at the local hospital.

My horse, whom I still adore even after this little incident, has been incredibly obedient, calm and attentive all this past week with training. He has lunged, stopped, backed, picked up his feet, and even allowed me to completely brush all the tangles from his tail (which, when untangled, are equivalent to the entire square mileage of French Guiana).

So when he tried to follow the mare out of the pasture into the corral when I was feeding them at 4 p.m. yesterday, I calmly yet forcibly stepped in front of him to halt him, certain that he would again respond to my verbal command.

And was properly knocked flat on my back as my horse went ahead and plowed right through me.

Wait, let me clarify that a bit.

He knocked me flat on my SHOULDERS, which was then followed by my head, and then my butt hit the ground and last of all my feet.

I laid there in the dust for a few seconds, feeling very sorry for myself, but since there was no one else there to sympathize with me - even my dog had fled the scene - I got up, chased my horse back to where he belonged, and went into the house. Slowly.

And on arriving in the house, discovered I had had... well, an accident.

Well, of course, I had HAD an accident - with my stupid &@%$(@# horse knocking me off my feet.

I mean, another kind of accident. One that you are supposed to have conquered when you stop using diapers. When you begin school. Or before you have reached the age where a sneeze can cause that kind of accident.

And that sort of accident that shouldn't involve blood in any way - at least not when a uterus is no longer a part of your physiology.

So regardless of which information source I consulted (WebMD, Google, my doctor's office, my oldest daughter), the guidance was the same - go to the emergency room.

Immediately.

Do you know how many people seem to have nothing better to do on a Friday evening than go to the E.R. for a MINOR symptom, such as sniffles, a slight fever, or kidney stones (well, I guess that last one isn't minor, but he was being SUCH a big baby about it)?

But the crowning jewel is that 85% of these people spend the majority of the emergency room COMPLAINING about how...

1) The staff in the emergency are doing things that are NOT related DIRECTLY to seeing to that particular complaining patient (such as eating dinner, talking to each other, going to the restroom, etc.)

2) The man who came in TWO HOURS after that particular complaining patient was seen BEFORE them - who cares that he was bleeding from gunshot blast, clutching his chest, and/or in the last stages of labor (okay, maybe not that one).

3) There are not sufficient personnel in the E.R. to take note of their complaints, comfort and/or constipation (er, sorry, not that last one) exactly when this particular complaining patient needs to vent.

So I bent over backwards to tell each and every E.R. personnel (Michelle, Lisa, Heather, Eva, Stephen and Eddie) how incredible great and efficient they were and how much I appreciated all their efforts.

And got out of there just under seven hours. Even with having a CAT scan.

You guys at the E.R. rock.