I have always admired actors who play doctors on TV shows. They are required to create an engaging character while spewing medical jargon. George Clooney claimed that on ER, he would learn entire paragraphs phonetically & wouldn't actually know what his character was talking about. Mr. Clooney, great & charismatic leading man that he is, seems to not be a method actor intent on doing his “homework”. I say good for him.
I learned some new terms today, including this whopper- "MASSIVE DEEP VENOUS THROMBOSIS: a large blood clot in a major vein. Small pieces of the blood clot can break off & travel to the lungs, causing breathing problems, or to the heart, causing arrhythmia." Sweet!
It started several weeks ago, with Ryan Reynolds finding a thumb size lump on the back of my left calf, while he was taking my pants off; although it is difficult to remember the details through my Vicodin haze.
On Saturday morning I had trouble negotiating the 2 block walk from the MAX train stop to my job. By Sunday I was in profound pain (7.5 out of 10 on the Steve Scream & Whimper Scale). Monday morning, I was no longer capable of walking & I finally went to a physician. She ordered an MRI & an ultrasound, both scheduled for later in the week. I couldn’t make it. This morning the pain was even more intense & my left leg was twice the size of normal, & the Husband whisks me off to the ER. He dropped me off & went off to do some important errands as I worked my way through the labyrinth of paper work, medical history & insurance questions... when does this new Socialized Medicine thing kick in?
Dr. Vincent Torres, late 20s, short, handsome, Latin...a dreamboat, gave me the diagnosis & the bad news about the treatment: “I am immediately putting you on blood thinners to stop the clotting. You will need to give yourself an injection in your stomach for the next 10 days, but Colleen (who drew my blood earlier) says this might be a bit of a problem for you."
I was equal parts frightened & dumbstruck. I have lived into my mid-50s with a lifelong profound phobia of syringes & hypodermic needles. I can watch someone get their head cut off by a chainsaw in a film & not flinch, but I can not be in the same room with a needle/syringe & not pass out. It always embarrassed my mother, who is a medical professional. It has embarrassed the Husband who has been witness to this horror, having once been summoned from the waiting room by a doctor after I slid off a gurney & into an unconscious puddle of neurosis on the hallway floor of a clinic, after receiving a flu shot. I even embarrassed myself when the vet sat a syringe on the counter & then left the room while my dog was getting vaccinated. The animal doc returned to the small room to find a Jack Russell licking an unconscious daddy who had caught a glance of the offending needle.
Dr. Torres, he of the flashing dark brown eyes, suggested a 1 week hospital stay when I explained that giving myself an injection was not a possibility. I answered that I found it doubtful that my insurance would pay for time in the hospital, especially when we would have to factor in the private room, morphine drip &, movies on demand, & the pizza deliveries. The doctor asked if there was anyone in my life that could possibly do the twice daily shots, & I thought- “hmmm, isn't that what husbands are for?”
Me: “He should be in the ER waiting room, Dr. Yummy. He is my Husband & he would be the tall, thin one with silver hair… & he is handsome." 3 minutes later the good doctor returns with the Husband, although I would have settled for anyone with that description. The Husband was given my diagnosis by Dr. Torres, although I suspected that he was making note the young physician’s tight little body in his scrubs.
We were made to watch a video on the drug & how to give the injections. My head started spinning during the 3rd minute of the gruesome video. We were finally sent home with a pile of discharge papers with language that would flummox even the Cary Grant of our era- Mr. George Clooney.
Just as many botanical names now trip me up, I am going to use the common name, & admit to suffering from a large blood clot in my left leg. A week + of hanging out & eating pain killers might seem like just my sort of time off… but I am not happy & I am just a little scared. The Husband seems just a little too gleeful about giving me those 2 shots a day.
No comments:
Post a Comment