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I may have posted this here (well, not here, but somewhere on CS) once before, but it's been a long time if I have, and it's best suited for this new board, so here we go.
December 23, 2009. I was working (at the time, I had an office job in a call center) when I suddenly got a horrible, horrible pain in my side/lower back. Long story short, the HR manager and I decided it would be best for me to go to the ER, so he drove me there. I told them my symptoms and they admitted me right away, suspecting kidney stones.
I put the gown on and laid down on the bed...gurney...thing, and the nurse came in to give me an IV for the pain (which had subsided considerably since I had come in.) I told her that I'd never gotten an IV and I was really scared (of the IV, and just in general) and she looked at me like I was crazy. "You've never had an IV? Really? I can't believe it. How have you never had an IV? That's just crazy." I didn't know it was such a big deal to not have had an IV by the time you're 25.
She stuck me, several times, with the same needle, in the top of my right hand, trying to get a vein, with me whimpering the entire time. The pain from her digging around in my hand was far worse than the side pains at this point. Finally she stopped and said she was going to try and get someone else to do it. Another nurse came in and got an IV in my arm without a problem. The first nurse told me that the vein in my hand was very, very difficult to get so if I ever needed to get an IV again, I should tell the nurse or whoever was administering it not to do it in that hand. Three weeks later when I had surgery, I said exactly that to an anesthesiologist. He took one look at the hand in question and popped an IV in before I even knew what he was doing. I didn't feel a thing.
The doctor came in and talked to me briefly, telling me they thought it was kidney stones and that they were going to run some tests. I didn't really see him much at first, honestly.
Next they took me for a CAT scan, I think. I was in a big tube and they were scanning my abdomen, so whatever that was. The guy who did that was nice and seemed competent, by far the best person I dealt with that afternoon. Too bad I was only with him about 20 minutes.
Back to my little room to wait for the results. The results came in and the kidney was fine, no stones, so they were going to do an ultrasound. An ultrasound? What? At the time, I didn't know what else ultrasounds were used for besides looking at a pregnant woman's baby, so I sort of started to freak out. I asked why they wanted to do the ultrasound and no one would tell me because the doctor wasn't around, and the doctor ordered it and needed to explain it himself. He never came back to explain anything between the CAT scan and the ultrasound, though. I didn't think I could be pregnant (I was sexually active, but we use BC and I'd had my period since the last time we had intercourse, but I've heard of weirder things happening) but I was still pretty freaked out.
They did the ultrasound. At the end of it, I asked the tech (or whatever her title was) if she saw anything. She got this little grin on her face and said, "You'll see." Once again, I was freaking out. The only thing I could think of this whole time was that I was pregnant, and I really, really didn't (and still don't) want to ever be pregnant. The very thought terrifies me.
Back to my little room to wait. I asked the nurse for some water; she said she couldn't give me any without the doctor's permission, and said she's go find him and ask. Some time later, the doctor finally showed up. I asked him if I could have some water, and he said it was the nurse's job to get some for me. He told me that the ultra sound had revealed gall stones, which had caused the pain in my side and back. He had sent for the ER surgeon to come in and talk to me.
The nurse finally came back with a small cup of water, then asked me to pee in a cup. She handed me the cup, said "You know what to do" and left. Okay. I'd never had to give a urine sample for anything before, but how hard could it be, right? So I peed in the cup and gave her the sample. I was still thirsty so I asked her for more water. She never brought me any before I ended up leaving an hour and a half later.
The nurse took my urine sample and the ER surgeon came in and started discussing surgery. She said she didn't think I needed surgery that same night, but that I would need to have my gall bladder removed eventually, probably sooner rather than later. There were other treatment options, like crushing the stones, but they would probably come back eventually and the best long-term solution was to have it removed.
At this point I started crying. I'd been in the ER for over 2 hours at this point, alone and not feeling particularly supported by anyone. The doctor had been very scarce, the nurse was nice but I had very little competence in her, and I was scared shitless. I'd never had surgery of any kind up until then, not even to have my tonsils or my wisdom teeth removed, so I was all kinds of freaked out. The surgeon was very cold and did not sympathize or try to instill any kind of confidence in me when I started crying. She continued to drone on about the risks of surgery, etc, and left.
The nurse came back and told me it looked like I had a UTI from the urine sample. Queue me getting even more upset. But, she said the sample was "funny" and that they wanted to take another one because it looked like it had been contaminated. She asked me if I had "properly wiped" before giving the sample. Uh, no? She said I needed to wipe my urethra with an antiseptic wipe before peeing in the cup. Okay, would've been good to know that before I just emptied my bladder for you.
I couldn't pee again. I'd asked repeatedly for more water and she never brought me any, and I really had emptied my bladder the first time, so I had nothing to give. The nurse said the doctor had ordered her to catheter me if I could've give another sample.
I didn't really know what all that involved (I knew what a catheter was, but again, never had it done) but she said it would be very quick and easy and then they'd have a clean sample to run and we wouldn't have to worry about it. So I agreed.
It took her FIVE TRIES to stick me with the catheter. By the end of it, it was more painful that the missed IVs, and when I got home, I had blood in my urine for 2 days.
They got their damned urine sample, though, and it turned out I didn't have a UTI. Sometime after the catheter, the doctor came back, and asked me why I was crying. At this point, I was downright bawling, from the overall treatment I'd received, the prospect of surgery, and the pain from the catheter. I told him I was scared about having surgery and he gave me a lecture about how gall bladder surgery is very minor, people have it done every day, it's not a big deal, and I need to suck it up and stop crying because this was nothing to cry about.
Fortunately, my mom showed up shortly after this and got me out of there (they were about ready to release me, anyway.) I never went back to that hospital for anything. I went to a different surgeon at a different hospital about 2 weeks later for a consultation, and he said I absolutely needed to have my gall bladder out ASAP. The following week he took it out, and said if he had been the ER surgeon who saw me the night I was in the ER, he would've taken it out then and there. It was swollen, infected, and full of 12 marble sized stones. It was the longest laprascopic surgery he had ever performed (and he was in his 60s.)
The ER I went to got a very long letter, followed up by a very long phone call from me detailing why I would rather drive an hour to the neighboring town's ER than ever go to their ER again. The person I spoke to was very apologetic and said that they were going to work to rectify all the negative things that happened to me. For the sake of every other patient that ever has had the misfortune of stepping into that ER, I hope she was sincere.
December 23, 2009. I was working (at the time, I had an office job in a call center) when I suddenly got a horrible, horrible pain in my side/lower back. Long story short, the HR manager and I decided it would be best for me to go to the ER, so he drove me there. I told them my symptoms and they admitted me right away, suspecting kidney stones.
I put the gown on and laid down on the bed...gurney...thing, and the nurse came in to give me an IV for the pain (which had subsided considerably since I had come in.) I told her that I'd never gotten an IV and I was really scared (of the IV, and just in general) and she looked at me like I was crazy. "You've never had an IV? Really? I can't believe it. How have you never had an IV? That's just crazy." I didn't know it was such a big deal to not have had an IV by the time you're 25.
She stuck me, several times, with the same needle, in the top of my right hand, trying to get a vein, with me whimpering the entire time. The pain from her digging around in my hand was far worse than the side pains at this point. Finally she stopped and said she was going to try and get someone else to do it. Another nurse came in and got an IV in my arm without a problem. The first nurse told me that the vein in my hand was very, very difficult to get so if I ever needed to get an IV again, I should tell the nurse or whoever was administering it not to do it in that hand. Three weeks later when I had surgery, I said exactly that to an anesthesiologist. He took one look at the hand in question and popped an IV in before I even knew what he was doing. I didn't feel a thing.
The doctor came in and talked to me briefly, telling me they thought it was kidney stones and that they were going to run some tests. I didn't really see him much at first, honestly.
Next they took me for a CAT scan, I think. I was in a big tube and they were scanning my abdomen, so whatever that was. The guy who did that was nice and seemed competent, by far the best person I dealt with that afternoon. Too bad I was only with him about 20 minutes.
Back to my little room to wait for the results. The results came in and the kidney was fine, no stones, so they were going to do an ultrasound. An ultrasound? What? At the time, I didn't know what else ultrasounds were used for besides looking at a pregnant woman's baby, so I sort of started to freak out. I asked why they wanted to do the ultrasound and no one would tell me because the doctor wasn't around, and the doctor ordered it and needed to explain it himself. He never came back to explain anything between the CAT scan and the ultrasound, though. I didn't think I could be pregnant (I was sexually active, but we use BC and I'd had my period since the last time we had intercourse, but I've heard of weirder things happening) but I was still pretty freaked out.
They did the ultrasound. At the end of it, I asked the tech (or whatever her title was) if she saw anything. She got this little grin on her face and said, "You'll see." Once again, I was freaking out. The only thing I could think of this whole time was that I was pregnant, and I really, really didn't (and still don't) want to ever be pregnant. The very thought terrifies me.
Back to my little room to wait. I asked the nurse for some water; she said she couldn't give me any without the doctor's permission, and said she's go find him and ask. Some time later, the doctor finally showed up. I asked him if I could have some water, and he said it was the nurse's job to get some for me. He told me that the ultra sound had revealed gall stones, which had caused the pain in my side and back. He had sent for the ER surgeon to come in and talk to me.
The nurse finally came back with a small cup of water, then asked me to pee in a cup. She handed me the cup, said "You know what to do" and left. Okay. I'd never had to give a urine sample for anything before, but how hard could it be, right? So I peed in the cup and gave her the sample. I was still thirsty so I asked her for more water. She never brought me any before I ended up leaving an hour and a half later.
The nurse took my urine sample and the ER surgeon came in and started discussing surgery. She said she didn't think I needed surgery that same night, but that I would need to have my gall bladder removed eventually, probably sooner rather than later. There were other treatment options, like crushing the stones, but they would probably come back eventually and the best long-term solution was to have it removed.
At this point I started crying. I'd been in the ER for over 2 hours at this point, alone and not feeling particularly supported by anyone. The doctor had been very scarce, the nurse was nice but I had very little competence in her, and I was scared shitless. I'd never had surgery of any kind up until then, not even to have my tonsils or my wisdom teeth removed, so I was all kinds of freaked out. The surgeon was very cold and did not sympathize or try to instill any kind of confidence in me when I started crying. She continued to drone on about the risks of surgery, etc, and left.
The nurse came back and told me it looked like I had a UTI from the urine sample. Queue me getting even more upset. But, she said the sample was "funny" and that they wanted to take another one because it looked like it had been contaminated. She asked me if I had "properly wiped" before giving the sample. Uh, no? She said I needed to wipe my urethra with an antiseptic wipe before peeing in the cup. Okay, would've been good to know that before I just emptied my bladder for you.
I couldn't pee again. I'd asked repeatedly for more water and she never brought me any, and I really had emptied my bladder the first time, so I had nothing to give. The nurse said the doctor had ordered her to catheter me if I could've give another sample.
I didn't really know what all that involved (I knew what a catheter was, but again, never had it done) but she said it would be very quick and easy and then they'd have a clean sample to run and we wouldn't have to worry about it. So I agreed.
It took her FIVE TRIES to stick me with the catheter. By the end of it, it was more painful that the missed IVs, and when I got home, I had blood in my urine for 2 days.
They got their damned urine sample, though, and it turned out I didn't have a UTI. Sometime after the catheter, the doctor came back, and asked me why I was crying. At this point, I was downright bawling, from the overall treatment I'd received, the prospect of surgery, and the pain from the catheter. I told him I was scared about having surgery and he gave me a lecture about how gall bladder surgery is very minor, people have it done every day, it's not a big deal, and I need to suck it up and stop crying because this was nothing to cry about.
Fortunately, my mom showed up shortly after this and got me out of there (they were about ready to release me, anyway.) I never went back to that hospital for anything. I went to a different surgeon at a different hospital about 2 weeks later for a consultation, and he said I absolutely needed to have my gall bladder out ASAP. The following week he took it out, and said if he had been the ER surgeon who saw me the night I was in the ER, he would've taken it out then and there. It was swollen, infected, and full of 12 marble sized stones. It was the longest laprascopic surgery he had ever performed (and he was in his 60s.)
The ER I went to got a very long letter, followed up by a very long phone call from me detailing why I would rather drive an hour to the neighboring town's ER than ever go to their ER again. The person I spoke to was very apologetic and said that they were going to work to rectify all the negative things that happened to me. For the sake of every other patient that ever has had the misfortune of stepping into that ER, I hope she was sincere.
That place... geeze. What the hell ER?
Thank you.
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