Thursday, June 14, 2012
Pretty Pretty Please
Pretty, pretty please.
Don't just go to the emergency room. Try me first. OK, if death is imminent, call an ambulance. But otherwise, I'm just a dial tone away. And I am acquainted with the dizziness, chest pain, and swelling in your abdomen. I read the results of your latest stress test. I was there that day when the edema in your leg was a blood cot.
The doctor in the ER is kind and patient, but she doesn't know you. She didn't stand by your side when your husband died or when you broke your leg. She doesn't recognize that your eyes glaze over when your anxious or the wince you make when you're in pain. But I do.
And things happen in emergency rooms. Demented people get IV benadryl. Renal patients gets NSAIDS. Admission to a medical floor is a given if you are over the age of seventy.
Trust me, you want to avoid the hospital if possible. Although you imagine yourself entombed in the warm bosom of safety, reality is much more frightening. Resistant infections, medication errors, and hospital acquired delirium await you in every corner.
I want to protect you from these mishaps. But once you hit the ER, I become superhero without a cape. I lose my special powers. My opinions and influence have no meaning there. I have to wait till you arrive on the medical floor before I can declare your admission a waste of time, your arm pain muscular and not cardiac, and send you home.
Emergency rooms are good for emergencies. Emergency doctors save lives. But if your are dizzy, have a sinus infection, or swelling in the legs. Call me first.
And we'll work through it together.
Posted by Jordan Grumet at 7:23 PM