I don't know what it is about Emergency Room doctors on the graveyard shift, but they suck. I apologize for sweeping generalizations, but they do. I mean, I nearly died in the BMH emergency room a few weeks back when I was in anaphylaxis for an allergic reaction, and I was told that I wasn't having an allergic reaction. I know the hours suck-- I've worked overnight before. My husband worked midnights for YEARS. But, seriously, get your shit together and don't take your dislike of your shift out on the patients. (Again, this might not be the case for all night shift ER doctors, but it has been for every freaking one I've ever run into.)
So, my husband had been laying in a bed for an hour before they told me that they expected he had a pulmonary embolism and needed a CT scan. They wheeled him away at 2am, gave him the intravenous dye and did the CT scan. While he was getting the scan done, I called his job and told him that he wouldn't be in for Thursday or Friday. He was wheeled back to the little area they had him (bed #19) at about 2:30, and we waited for the results.
At 3:15am, the ER doctor arrived with results. "I have some good news," he said. "You don't have a pulmonary embolism. However, we were able to see part of your liver, and there are a couple of masses on them. They might be cancerous. I'll be right back." And then he left.
I'm not kidding or exaggerating. That's what happened. He dropped the C-Bomb and took off before I could even say, "What?????" He just left.
After disbelief, rage was the next emotion that hit me. I was furious at my husband. He is 43 years old, and he has effing CANCER????? How did he not go to the doctor earlier? I remember exactly what I said to him...
"You are stubborn, stupid and selfish. If you went to the doctor sooner, we wouldn't be in this situation. How am I supposed to explain this to the kids? I am PISSED at you!"
And then I paced. I paced for hours. Literally. I walked from the foot of his bed to the nurse's station and back. I think I wore a track in the floor. So many thoughts were going through my mind, especially since something similar happened to a friend of mine. My friend's brother wasn't feeling well for weeks. He finally went to the hospital and, long story short, they found out that he has STAGE THREE colon cancer. Oh, by the way, he is only 34 years old.
As you can imagine, thoughts were running wild through my head. What kind of cancer is it? All of the body's blood filters through the liver, so it could have been anything. How far along is he? What stage is he in? Is he going to die? How long do we have to prepare? Is our life insurance paid up? How am I going to tell the kids? What are we going to do?
It hit me like a ton of bricks. I let rage consume me, since it was a lit easier than grief. He had his eyes closed, but I shot him dirty looks every time I laid eyes on him. I was livid. I was furious with the doctor for dropping the bomb like that. I asked to speak with him again, but he was "busy."
I saw him sitting at his desk, and he was "busy." He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, but he was "busy." I wanted to stab this frigging doctor. I had so many questions and he wouldn't come to me to answer them. He didn't come over to me for HOURS, while my husband shuddered and sweat in his hospital bed, waiting for the next steps.
The secretary told me at 5:45 that he was going to be admitted. I demanded to see the doctor and threatened to walk over to him. He reluctantly walked over to me.
To be completely honest with you, that was a week ago and I can't remember what I asked him. He kept telling me that someone from Oncology would speak with me, and he couldn't give me any answers. I asked him a lot of questions, and he said that they were questions for the oncologist-- literally every question was answered like that. I think the only thing he confirmed was that he was going to be admitted.
That's it. That's all I had.
By 6:45, I was absolutely exhausted. I was drained. I could barely keep my eyes open. I knew that he was sleeping. I woke him up and told him that I needed to get a couple of hours of sleep, and would be back. I kissed his sweaty forehead and left.
We live about 7 minutes from the hospital, give or take the traffic lights. I got home at about 7:00 and jumped online to let those closest to me know what was going on. The kids were waking up for camp, so I got them ready, gave them breakfast, and didn't mention anything about Daddy. I think they thought he left for work. our kids are 6, so they really didn't need to know anything at that moment-- Especially anything about cancer.
My mother left with the kids at 8am. I slipped into my bed and closed my eyes.
At 3:15am, the ER doctor arrived with results. "I have some good news," he said. "You don't have a pulmonary embolism. However, we were able to see part of your liver, and there are a couple of masses on them. They might be cancerous. I'll be right back." And then he left.
I'm not kidding or exaggerating. That's what happened. He dropped the C-Bomb and took off before I could even say, "What?????" He just left.
After disbelief, rage was the next emotion that hit me. I was furious at my husband. He is 43 years old, and he has effing CANCER????? How did he not go to the doctor earlier? I remember exactly what I said to him...
"You are stubborn, stupid and selfish. If you went to the doctor sooner, we wouldn't be in this situation. How am I supposed to explain this to the kids? I am PISSED at you!"
And then I paced. I paced for hours. Literally. I walked from the foot of his bed to the nurse's station and back. I think I wore a track in the floor. So many thoughts were going through my mind, especially since something similar happened to a friend of mine. My friend's brother wasn't feeling well for weeks. He finally went to the hospital and, long story short, they found out that he has STAGE THREE colon cancer. Oh, by the way, he is only 34 years old.
As you can imagine, thoughts were running wild through my head. What kind of cancer is it? All of the body's blood filters through the liver, so it could have been anything. How far along is he? What stage is he in? Is he going to die? How long do we have to prepare? Is our life insurance paid up? How am I going to tell the kids? What are we going to do?
It hit me like a ton of bricks. I let rage consume me, since it was a lit easier than grief. He had his eyes closed, but I shot him dirty looks every time I laid eyes on him. I was livid. I was furious with the doctor for dropping the bomb like that. I asked to speak with him again, but he was "busy."
I saw him sitting at his desk, and he was "busy." He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, but he was "busy." I wanted to stab this frigging doctor. I had so many questions and he wouldn't come to me to answer them. He didn't come over to me for HOURS, while my husband shuddered and sweat in his hospital bed, waiting for the next steps.
The secretary told me at 5:45 that he was going to be admitted. I demanded to see the doctor and threatened to walk over to him. He reluctantly walked over to me.
To be completely honest with you, that was a week ago and I can't remember what I asked him. He kept telling me that someone from Oncology would speak with me, and he couldn't give me any answers. I asked him a lot of questions, and he said that they were questions for the oncologist-- literally every question was answered like that. I think the only thing he confirmed was that he was going to be admitted.
That's it. That's all I had.
By 6:45, I was absolutely exhausted. I was drained. I could barely keep my eyes open. I knew that he was sleeping. I woke him up and told him that I needed to get a couple of hours of sleep, and would be back. I kissed his sweaty forehead and left.
We live about 7 minutes from the hospital, give or take the traffic lights. I got home at about 7:00 and jumped online to let those closest to me know what was going on. The kids were waking up for camp, so I got them ready, gave them breakfast, and didn't mention anything about Daddy. I think they thought he left for work. our kids are 6, so they really didn't need to know anything at that moment-- Especially anything about cancer.
My mother left with the kids at 8am. I slipped into my bed and closed my eyes.
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