I try not to complain much about work on this blog, preferring to save it all for dinner hour and my stand -up routine with the family. Yesterday, though, was too much for a mere mortal to withstand.
Quote of the day: "Tell them to hurry up so we can visit him. We just drove down from Dayton."
Let me set the scene here.
Mr. Patient, 72, was transferred to us from an Outside Hospital (OSH) for a subdural hematoma he had suffered after a fall. Mr. P. also has a cardiac history and was on a blood thinner at home which, while helpful for the heart, is obviously not so fabulous for a brain bleed. The family had been with Mr P. at the OSH and had seen him shortly after he was admitted to our ICU.
The ICU team and 3 neurosurgeons were in the room, examining the patient, discussing whether they needed to take him to surgery right now to evacuate the blood and relieve pressure to his brain, and preparing him for impending surgery by placing an arterial line for blood pressure monitoring and a central line for intravenous access in this gentleman with little, tiny, fragile veins.
The door buzzer rings with visitors for Mr. P. We explain that he is being examined by the neurosurgeons and having procedures done. Next thing I hear is, "Tell them to hurry up so we can visit him. We just drove down from Dayton."
Well, yes, sir. I will get right on that. In fact I will go in there right now and tap my foot and my watch indicating to the docs to hurry up and time's a-wasting because you have been driving in a car for 30 minutes and don't want to wait. I am quite sure all of us in this world are anxious to have neurosurgeons rush through their examinations of us and hurry in their placement of sharp needle-like objects into our radial arteries and subclavian veins--especially when we have increased risk of bleeding-- so that you,Mr. Visitor from Dayton, do not have to wait one extra minute out of your extremely busy and very important day. I live to serve and Lord knows, we are a freakin' hotel here.