I embraced my Divaness yesterday. I could have walked out to the RV lot. After all, I walked in from there Monday. In anticipation of my departure I tidied up, placing the paper in the trash and the fabric in the hamper. Yes, I know they have staff for that, but I don't like to cause others to clean up after me. Besides, it was well within my capabilities. Their practice is an escort to the door. But when they offered two, plus a shuttle to my SUV, my Divaness kicked in and I accepted, even though I was quite capable of getting myself and my stuff to the SUV. Who am I to deprive the shuttle driver the pleasure of my company during the short ride from the door to the lot? And when he insisted on packing my SUV for me, and waiting until I was ready to drive away before leaving, I thought he was well brought up.
In case you haven't figured it out from my rather obtuse ramblings, I was released from the hospital yesterday afternoon.
I'm fine.
This past weekend my tummy was upset. No sooner had that subsided, I experienced a new little healthcare wrinkle. I awoke Monday morning with a little chest discomfort. It did not feel cardiac in nature but I took a baby aspirin nonetheless. Then a second. And a third. And a fourth. Still it was not cardiac in feel. I had planned on mopping the floors before I went to work, but decided against it. Any excuse to avoid housework is my motto.
While at work the pain I felt on inspiration grew steadily worse--from the feel of a pin sticking through my upper left chest to my back, to an ice pick. I did what I could at work so my absence would be as less of a burden to my coworkers as possible, then I left for the Urgent Care Clinic. My coworkers advised me to go directly to ER, but I kept saying it's not cardiac. Two coworkers also offered to drive me. In my stuborness I politely thanked them and refused.
By 11am I was being turned away from the UCC and advised to go to ER in case my chest pain was in fact cardiac. I kept reminding everyone it was not chest pain, it was inspirational breating pain. They still insisted. So off to the ER I went. Because I'm a middle-aged woman with "chest pain" (that I kept insisting was not cardiac) I was bumped to the front of the EKG line. Normal Sinus Rhythm. All of the imaging came back within normal ranges [which they now, in their newly designed doccumentation package, term as within expected ranges (or something similar)]. All my cardiac labs were good, and they ruled out Pulmonary Embolisim (which in my paranoia was my fear).
It was a very busy day in the ER. So busy they ran out of hospital beds. I wondered several times if it was a full moon.
As I waited to see the doctor, people that came in after me were being seen and admitted (or released). That is the down side of triage, you don't necessarily go in order of arrival. My bump to the front of the line was quickly terminated.
When it was finally time for me to go back to see the doc, it was after 5:30 p.m. I arrived at the room that was supposed to be mine, and found it was occupied by someone who arrived well after me. I'm okay with that because I understand the need for triage. More serrious cases jump to the head of the line. However, this particular gentleman had proclaimed in a booming voice that his finger had been cut a week ago and kept opening back up. It did not appear to be bleeding from my vantage point across the room. Unless they found something more acute or alarming during their assessment, I was at a loss as to why he would be bumped to the head of the line. I was told to wait in the hallway outside his/my room until they found a spot for me. I was quite okay with the doc just telling me I could go home in the hallway. That would not be the case.
After a short wait, an ER room became available and I was placed in it. Unfortunately, my android battery died sometime during the wait. The charging station in the ER did not work (you have to sign into their guest wifi in order to use it--a fact I did not realize until the second time I attempted to charge it), and I did not have my wall charger with me. It was then I realized how handicaped I am.
I no longer know any phone numbers. Therefore, I had no way to phone a friend check on my FurBoys or bring me a charger. The Nurse told me they had other charging stations and went to find one for me. Unfortunately, they were all in use. I eventually learned I was being admitted to the hospital, but due to the lack of hospital beds, I would be boarded in the ER. (It seems VA is not the only hospital that has to do this). They offered to trade out my ER bed for a regular hospital bed, but honestly, it was quite comfy so I declined. I hadn't embraced my inner Diva...yet.
Why was I being admitted if everything was within expected ranges? Well, not everything was. My oxygen saturation dropped to the mid to low 80s a couple of times. I was not in any respiratory distress--with the exception of the pain on inspiration.
Mid-morning Tuesday I was assigned a bed. Within 10 minutes of my arrival, the doctor came to see me. She said she was surprised at how well I looked. We weren't even through the RN Assessment and the Doc was talking Discharge. This was Music to my ears. She was a little concerned about my oxygen saturation, but I assured her it was fine--everytime I got out of bed I checked the monitor, and I never saw it dip below 90%. She said it actually had gone into the low 80s a couple times, but she agreed to discharge if I didn't desaturate when I walked. So off we went for a walk.
Unfortunately, from my room at the end of the hall to the Nurses Station was all it took. I compensated, was in no distress, and even talked as we continued the loop around the Nurses Station, but unfortunately, she recommended I stay one more night on the IV lasix. I relutcantly agreed.
I continued ambulating around the floor several times a shift, used the incentive spirometer everytime a commercial came on, adhered to the 1800 ml fluid restriction (I actually only had 1600ml) and, had the Student Nurse walk me the next morning so we would have an O2 sat when the doctor (a Male on Wednesday) came by to see me. We did the longer looped route I had been walking and I never dropped below 92%. Success!
That was at 11am. I was not discharged until 2:30. Again, it's not just VA that DCs in the aftenoon, even when it was the plan from the day before.
I guess I felt I deserved a little Diva Treatment. So I succumbed.
Once I arrived home, the FurBoys let me know how displeased they were over my absence. I made it up to them with treats and snuggles. Bandit even allowed Moggy to be on his side of me during one of our position shifts. He wasn't thrilled, but he didn't growl at Moggy either.
I think they missed me as much as I missed them. And, even though they are boys, they threw some definite Diva-like vibes my way.
I just don't know where they get their Divaness from. 😉
