Rich was admitted to the hospital 12-20-11. It took some fancy talking from his doctor, but she convinced him.
Over the weekend he had started throwing up, pain came on in the stomach and remained constant at 4 out of 10. Monday afternoon he started running a low grade fever off and on. The swelling in his lower legs was not improving. Tuesday morning we had an office visit with a new surgeon, recently from a huge medical center somewhere in Texas where he did nothing but liver and pancreatic surgery.
We got off to a rocky start. At check in they handed Rich a clipboard with many pages to fill out. He promptly handed it to me. I barely had to glance at it to realize that it was six pages of questions that I have answered far too many times for this hospital, it’s doctors, nurses, admission staff, labs, radiology, ad nauseum. Seriously, people, why the fuck did you spend money on computers? If the same name is on all of your paychecks, and/or rent…. Why can’t you network some information?!?! Then again, why bother. No matter how many times I fill out your paperwork and give you insurance cards to copy, you still can’t seem to bill our insurance correctly or get his med list straight.
Here’s a thought. The more times you enter the same info, the higher the odds an error will be made. I’m just saying.
Sitting there in the waiting room, I had to make a snap decision—do I risk more brain cells filling out the forms of futility, or do I bring some common sense to the party and bypass the frustration. Brain cells screamed for rescue.
I wrote across the top of the first page. “How unfortunate they have not given you access to hospital records. This could be a problem. Maybe you could call someone.”
Rich asked me why I wasn’t filling out the forms. I showed him what I had written and was immediately chastised. He said to me, “why do you have to be that way? Why can’t you just do what they want?”
Holy Knife-in-the-Back, Batman.
In a Nano-second every Voice from the Van had a screaming response. They flowed like this…
“Because swallowing unlimited amounts of bullshit causes pancreatic cancer.”
“Because I don’t get to lay back and let someone else fight my battles.”
“How ‘bout you shut up and go back to ignoring me.”
“Because I refuse to act like a sheep. Condoning evil is just as bad as Being evil, and the greatest tool of evil is stupidity.”
“If you had half a clue what cancer is like on THIS side of the partnership, you would not even ask that question.”
“Since you’re the only one they listen to, why don’t YOU fill out their forms, and sign them—Love, Rich.”
“Since they seem to get points for poking sticks in my cage, I think it’s only fair I get to growl at the stick.
“Because kissing ass doesn’t seem to be Gittin’ Er Done.”
I didn’t have any scrap paper to write them all down so these are just the responses I can remember.
I remained silently obedient. We get back to the exam room and after a bit the doctor comes in. After introductions he started asking Rich questions and Rich looked at me like I had missed the cue for my soliloquy. I didn’t know whether to laugh or run from the room screaming. I was somewhat impressed that the doctor appeared to sense that we were having an awkward moment.
Rich made a couple of attempts to relay information, but it was clear that his memory was fuzzy at best. Finally he told the doctor he would have to let me answer questions. After awhile I couldn’t help but feel comfortable with this doctor. A doctor without a God complex is rare enough, but a surgeon who is warm, reassuring and humble?!?!? And we got lucky TWICE.
We worked out a plan and I actually remembered what Hope feels like. I reassured Dr L. that “I really am a nice person, I’m just worn out right now.” He chuckled (I think Dr Mcgee told him I would say that) and told me I didn’t need to explain anything.
A couple hours later we saw the Endo Dr. She had labs back and results were not good. She didn’t like the way Rich looked, and he was running a fever, and she managed with effort to convince him to let her admit him. After an hour and a half of sitting in the main lobby, they found a bed for him and we got him settled in. The only reason we convinced him to be admitted was because Dr C had PROMISED him that they would start an IV drip and not wake him to take his blood sugars, and he would actually be able to sleep. The reality was…..
No one was available to insert a PIC line so they had to start an IV. THREE of them. Have I mentioned what a difficult Stick he is? Somewhere in the process he became tachycardic, not leveling off until he was in the 140s. At midnight he had to be transferred from the oncology floor to the cardiac floor because only those nurses can do cardiac IV meds. Then it was a matter of getting those orders, then administering the meds and getting him on a monitor. Yada, yada, yada. At 5:30 am the next morning, the staff turned out the lights and left his room. Breakfast arrived at 06:30.
Wednesday morning I went to work and between one thing and another and all the patients calling in sheer panic because they’re about to face a four day weekend without enough narcotics or erectile dysfunction meds to get them through it… It wasn’t until late morning that I had a chance to call him. A strange woman’s voice answered his bedside phone. I asked for Rich. She said, “oh..no…he’s not here.” What do you mean “he’s not here?” Nope. He’s gone. Maybe he went home.
I was speaking to housekeeping and they were getting the room ready for the next patient. I called the main hospital line and with my sweetest, ass-kissing voice I asked where the fuck my husband was. Over fifteen minutes I got transferred to five different people, on hold in between each, until the last time I was on hold I got to hear all of “Little Drummer Boy” before there was a click and then a dial tone.
When my boss took over and eventually got Rich on the phone I learned that he had been transferred to a cardiac floor. The rule is, if a patient is transferred, family is notified. Why? Because it is really shitty to walk into a room that is empty when you’re expecting to find your loved one. I have been called at 2 am to be notified of a room change. There were no missed calls, or voice mails on my phone. I’m just relieved that patient care has not been compromised by the hacking of 72 LPNs.
The doctors have decided to insert radioactive pellets into the tumors in his liver. Why am I cranky?
Two and a half years ago, when they biopsied the tumors in his liver they told us he had carcinoid cancer. Carcinoid tumors do not produce insulin. Ergo, killing non-insulin producing tumors isn’t going to correct the problem. Silly me. This week we’re informed that it’s not carcinoid cancer after all. IT’s regular ole’ run of the mill, insulin producing pancreatic cancer. The larger tumors are in his pancreas. They’re not going to inject pellets into those tumors. Why? I would tell you, but I’m not privy to that information either. Perhaps the answer is so obvious that my questions would be offensively ridiculous. Or. I am so stupid that any attempt to explain would waste crucial time and energy.
Whatever.
In the meantime, Dr C. is trying to get on top of the endo issues. Currently the delay is because the hospital cannot locate an insulin pump large enough for the dosing requirements. Weeks ago Dr Peiffer asked me if anyone had considered using an insulin pump to dispense octreotide to control insulin rather than insulin to control sugars. Like magic, Dr C had the same thought this weekend. Here is my stupid question Number Two. If you need to fill a TWO gallon bucket “over there”, and all you have is a one gallon bucket by the faucet. Uhmmm. Why don’t you pour water twice.?
Today Rich is increasingly short of breath. If the pellets don’t work, the next step is surgery, possibly removal of the pancreas. Wouldn’t the removal of a tumor stuffed pancreas have been better back at the get-go? I’m just saying.
I really am a nice person, I’m just worn out.
So Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Happy Hanukah, Blessed Solstice, Merry Kwanza, with respectful nods to Jehovah’s Witnesses, Muslims, Hindu, Buddhists, Atheists and Fellow Hitchhikers.
I had been hoping that this would be a nice Christmas for us. Our Last. Since the world is going to end 12-21-2012. I miss him. But then, I’ve been missing him for quite some time now.
