Quoth crazylegs
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Often patients don't get the connection between symptoms. And heart patients classically deny they're having a heart attack.
I would ask the guy, though: "Why didn't you tell us about your heart problems?" If he insisted he had none, I'd be concerned for an altered mental status along with the chest pain.
Quoth Dytchdoctir
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Quoth trailerparkmedic
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Here's the one that used to drive me nuts: the big ziplock bag full of multiple bottles of the same pills, with different dates on them, and sometimes varying dosages that make it hard to know just what it is they're actually supposed to be taking . . . especially with all the different docs.
Then there's the folks who put all their meds in one big bottle, so you have NO idea what's actually in there! Used to deal with that one all the time in corrections; inmates would get bloody pissed when I told them I couldn't give them any of their own medication until they saw the doc . . . because I couldn't figure out what they were actually supposed to be taking! (They didn't know either, other than "pain pill" or "anxiety pill").
My dad did something like this years and years ago. I was home visiting, when Mom woke me at 2am because Dad couldn't breathe and was having chest pain. I wanted to call 911 but he refused. I had a stethoscope with me, and listened to his chest . . . knew it was a rip roaring case of pneumonia from the sound (plus the fever), so we did go to the ER at my insistence. Basically I told Dad, "you're going to the hospital now. You can either get in the car, or I call 911. Your choice." Grumbling, he agreed . . . then picked up his car keys. I took them from him and informed him I was driving (Mom doesn't drive). He tried to balk, but I pointed out . . . I had the keys. Should I also get the phone? He got in the car.
So I grab up his meds to take with us since he didn't have a written list.
Long story short, he was admitted and spent a week in the hospital. But then his diabetes got out of control . . . because he was getting half his usual dose of his anti-glycemics. Seems Dad had been dumping his new prescriptions in his old bottles . . . which had the wrong dose. Dad's regular doctor was out of town on vacation, and his partner was unwilling to change the dose without consulting with him (and couldn't seem to find anything in Dad's medical records at the office . . . I think he just kept forgetting to look it up). We were so relieved when the regular doc got back in town a couple of days later and fixed the orders.
When Dad got home, I insisted he keep an up to date written copy of his medical history and his meds in his wallet at all times . . . which he did until the day he died.
Quoth raudf
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Quoth 24601
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Really, guys, if you take nothing else away from this, take this one thought: by law, the medics can't pronounce. They must use all available resources until told to stop by the ER physician, who doesn't know Aunt Sally from Adam.
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