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Warning: Long Background
A good-ish while ago, there was a bit of excitement in my world. A mutual friend (who I'll call D) of my roommate (Jay) and mine got sick at work one morning. I had already left for work, but he called the apartment and caught my roommate before he left. D had gotten violently sick at work, and asked if he could spend the day on our couch, as he didn't feel up to driving home. His workplace was just up the road from us, so Jay went, picked D up, and brought him back to the apartment before going to work himself.
The first I knew about any of this was when I got home to find D on the couch. He told me what was going on, and we both agreed that it sounded like he had eaten something off, and had a bit of food poisoning. He had a bit of a fever and had barfed in my bathroom trashcan during the day, so we figured we had it right. He stayed a bit longer to watch something on TV, and Jay got home from work as well.
We started talking about getting D home, since he still didn't feel up to driving himself, when D asked where his car was. We told him it was still at his work and Jay and I decided who was going to drive D home.
D asked where his car was again.
Jay and I looked at each other and told D again that his car was at work. We diecided I would take D home, so I got my shoes on and threw on a jacket.
D asked where his car was.
At this point, Jay and I knew something was up. D could be a bit flakey--usually because he was tired from his work, and didn't sleep enough, but never this bad. I did a hand check, and D's head was very warm. Crap.
Whatever was going through D's system had made a comeback. If he was forgetting things that quickly, we need to get him to the ER. Since I was ready to go anyway, I got D to his feet and helped him to my car. He was really unsteady on his feet, and was really getting worried that his brain was frying itself from the fever.
On the ten minute drive to the closest ER, D asked me three times where we were going. I'm doing my best impression of a cool frood, but inside I was freaking out. D's showing all the signs of his brain boiling in it's own gravy, as I know it from basic first aid.
I get parked in the ER lot, and bring D inside. I have to literally steer him as he walks--he couldn't get one foot in front of the other. We get registered, and go sit. D expounds on his dislike of the wrestling on the waiting room TV, much to the dislike of what looks to be Hacksaw Jim Duggan's entire family tree sitting on the other benches. This is really out of character for D. He's more the quiet type unless you get into a topic he knows alot about. We finally get called for D to be triaged by the nurse.
Fortunately, D rather co-operatively displayed his lack of coordination and inability to remember more than five minutes ago to the nurse. I really think the questions were more to be sure he wasn't just drunk by that point. He got a bed within minutes. Tests were begun, and I got to stay because D couldn't even remember getting sick that morning anymore. Nurse comes in to talk to D, and we find out he can remember long term stuff--where his insurance card is, his daughter, his divorce--but not the short term stuff. I was now the only person there who knew what had gone on up til then.
D then espoused, "I don't normally like blonde hair, but that nurse's curly hair really does it for me." Loud enough for the whole ER to hear, curly blonde nurse included.
The female doctor comes in to get the recap from me, and some of the test results and current numbers from a red-faced nurse. She says he's not showing real signs of the usual food-based issues in his early blood work, and sends him down to get a scan of his head--just in case. She suspects other reasons, but wants to run the scan on him while the rest of the blood tests run. D consents, and I wait in the room while D goes off on his tour of the scanning facility.
D is brought back, and promptly forgets being taken for the scan. We discuss the book I'm reading--twice. Suddenly the doctor comes back, and all hell breaks loose. Nurses removing wires, D being moved, medications being hung. D gets moved to a big room in the ER with lots of monitors. The female doctor tells me that she has called CareFlight (local helicopter ambulance) to take D to the trauma center at the University of Cincinnati. It seems when she had looked at the scans, D had a massive aneurysm growing!
By the time he's moved to the new room, D can still talk, but isn't making sense anymore. He can no longer make decisions for himself, and I'm just a friend, not family. I call Jay on the nurse's desk phone and tell him to call D's brother and where to send him.
Ultimately, over the next two weeks in ICU, D gets two drains in his head to alliviate pressure, and an incision-and-staples that follows his hairline from ear-to-ear where they did the surgery to finally seal off the aneurysm. There was a bag for excess fluid from around the brain--dubbed "Brain Gravy" by another gaming buddy. Fortunately, D was mostly out of it during his stay in ICU.
Next began his rehab. It didn't seem that he had lost much, but they kept him awhile to make sure his motor skill weren't affected. He terrorized the nurses and assistants by getting up on his own and walking when he was going stir-crazy at the rehab center. When we went to see him, they actually had him strapped to the bed at the waist so he'd stop getting up.
The gaming group brought movies and books to try and keep his mind occupied, and that seemed to help. I think the nurses thanked us more than he did on the way out.
He finally got to go home, but his doctor and neurologist refused to let him go back to work at that time. He's been going crazy not being able to work and having to deal with living off disability pay. Once he was cleared to drive, he started coming by the apartment just to get out on a regular basis.
Finally, his doctor clears him for work with the caveat that he needs clearance from the neurologist. Problem: the neurologist wouldn't see him without payment up front: $1100 that the insurance wouldn't cover. Luckily, someone at the disability office had a flash of common sense, and got the okay to pay for the visit and get D off the disability rolls.
I got the call last night from D. He's been cleared to return to work on a trial basis, AND his workplace has been keeping his job open! So happy dance for common sense from the government! Happy Dance for a good workplace! Happy Dance for a healthy friend with an awesome scar and the proper amount of brain gravy!
PS--We're never going to let him forget what he said to the cute blonde nurse, though.
A good-ish while ago, there was a bit of excitement in my world. A mutual friend (who I'll call D) of my roommate (Jay) and mine got sick at work one morning. I had already left for work, but he called the apartment and caught my roommate before he left. D had gotten violently sick at work, and asked if he could spend the day on our couch, as he didn't feel up to driving home. His workplace was just up the road from us, so Jay went, picked D up, and brought him back to the apartment before going to work himself.
The first I knew about any of this was when I got home to find D on the couch. He told me what was going on, and we both agreed that it sounded like he had eaten something off, and had a bit of food poisoning. He had a bit of a fever and had barfed in my bathroom trashcan during the day, so we figured we had it right. He stayed a bit longer to watch something on TV, and Jay got home from work as well.
We started talking about getting D home, since he still didn't feel up to driving himself, when D asked where his car was. We told him it was still at his work and Jay and I decided who was going to drive D home.
D asked where his car was again.
Jay and I looked at each other and told D again that his car was at work. We diecided I would take D home, so I got my shoes on and threw on a jacket.
D asked where his car was.
At this point, Jay and I knew something was up. D could be a bit flakey--usually because he was tired from his work, and didn't sleep enough, but never this bad. I did a hand check, and D's head was very warm. Crap.
Whatever was going through D's system had made a comeback. If he was forgetting things that quickly, we need to get him to the ER. Since I was ready to go anyway, I got D to his feet and helped him to my car. He was really unsteady on his feet, and was really getting worried that his brain was frying itself from the fever.
On the ten minute drive to the closest ER, D asked me three times where we were going. I'm doing my best impression of a cool frood, but inside I was freaking out. D's showing all the signs of his brain boiling in it's own gravy, as I know it from basic first aid.
I get parked in the ER lot, and bring D inside. I have to literally steer him as he walks--he couldn't get one foot in front of the other. We get registered, and go sit. D expounds on his dislike of the wrestling on the waiting room TV, much to the dislike of what looks to be Hacksaw Jim Duggan's entire family tree sitting on the other benches. This is really out of character for D. He's more the quiet type unless you get into a topic he knows alot about. We finally get called for D to be triaged by the nurse.
Fortunately, D rather co-operatively displayed his lack of coordination and inability to remember more than five minutes ago to the nurse. I really think the questions were more to be sure he wasn't just drunk by that point. He got a bed within minutes. Tests were begun, and I got to stay because D couldn't even remember getting sick that morning anymore. Nurse comes in to talk to D, and we find out he can remember long term stuff--where his insurance card is, his daughter, his divorce--but not the short term stuff. I was now the only person there who knew what had gone on up til then.
D then espoused, "I don't normally like blonde hair, but that nurse's curly hair really does it for me." Loud enough for the whole ER to hear, curly blonde nurse included.
The female doctor comes in to get the recap from me, and some of the test results and current numbers from a red-faced nurse. She says he's not showing real signs of the usual food-based issues in his early blood work, and sends him down to get a scan of his head--just in case. She suspects other reasons, but wants to run the scan on him while the rest of the blood tests run. D consents, and I wait in the room while D goes off on his tour of the scanning facility.
D is brought back, and promptly forgets being taken for the scan. We discuss the book I'm reading--twice. Suddenly the doctor comes back, and all hell breaks loose. Nurses removing wires, D being moved, medications being hung. D gets moved to a big room in the ER with lots of monitors. The female doctor tells me that she has called CareFlight (local helicopter ambulance) to take D to the trauma center at the University of Cincinnati. It seems when she had looked at the scans, D had a massive aneurysm growing!
By the time he's moved to the new room, D can still talk, but isn't making sense anymore. He can no longer make decisions for himself, and I'm just a friend, not family. I call Jay on the nurse's desk phone and tell him to call D's brother and where to send him.
Ultimately, over the next two weeks in ICU, D gets two drains in his head to alliviate pressure, and an incision-and-staples that follows his hairline from ear-to-ear where they did the surgery to finally seal off the aneurysm. There was a bag for excess fluid from around the brain--dubbed "Brain Gravy" by another gaming buddy. Fortunately, D was mostly out of it during his stay in ICU.
Next began his rehab. It didn't seem that he had lost much, but they kept him awhile to make sure his motor skill weren't affected. He terrorized the nurses and assistants by getting up on his own and walking when he was going stir-crazy at the rehab center. When we went to see him, they actually had him strapped to the bed at the waist so he'd stop getting up.
The gaming group brought movies and books to try and keep his mind occupied, and that seemed to help. I think the nurses thanked us more than he did on the way out.He finally got to go home, but his doctor and neurologist refused to let him go back to work at that time. He's been going crazy not being able to work and having to deal with living off disability pay. Once he was cleared to drive, he started coming by the apartment just to get out on a regular basis.
Finally, his doctor clears him for work with the caveat that he needs clearance from the neurologist. Problem: the neurologist wouldn't see him without payment up front: $1100 that the insurance wouldn't cover. Luckily, someone at the disability office had a flash of common sense, and got the okay to pay for the visit and get D off the disability rolls.
I got the call last night from D. He's been cleared to return to work on a trial basis, AND his workplace has been keeping his job open! So happy dance for common sense from the government! Happy Dance for a good workplace! Happy Dance for a healthy friend with an awesome scar and the proper amount of brain gravy!
PS--We're never going to let him forget what he said to the cute blonde nurse, though.
. Good thing that you and the doctor did the right things in time.
at the embarrassment of the nurse.
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