"E" is for "Emergency" -- "W" is for "Wait"

The modern medical system in America is a wonder, truly.  All those people scurrying around, taking your info, poking you with needles, asking the same questions over and over, nurses with their blood pressure monitors...oh and this is AFTER the long and somewhat disgusting wait known in the biz as "triage" where they determine just how important your emergency is after, one would surmise, gauging how you react to various vomit, blood and asthma attack scenarios that walk through the door.  


How do I know this?


I spent nearly six hours with a sick teenager in one of the area's two very well regarded medical establishments last night.  I skipped the potential gun shot wound/near decapitation triage possibilities at the University Michigan medical center, arguably the best trauma center in the free world as our emergency did not involve blood or dangling limbs.  We hit the "pediatric emergency unit" at St. Joseph Mercy med center, where this particular child had been birthed nearly seventeen years prior.


I don't know if you've had the pleasure of experiencing a modern emergency room lately. If not, I'd say they are well avoided.  No matter how many times I asked, neither George Clooney NOR Noah Wylie appeared.  What the hell is up with THAT?


Instead, we got very good care from friendly nurses and an extremely attentive doctor who just happened to have done some work in the nephrology area, just where our particular emergency was located.  After a hit of Vicoden to ease her pain (oh--these people are "pain level obsessed" too--which begs the question:  "If I can't FEEL any pain anywhere, how the hell do I know if I'm cured?" but whatever) an IV, blood draws, stomach Xray and renal ultra sound, plus many (many) hours of sitting around looking at each other we were sent out into the early morning hours of the Next Day with scripts and warnings to make appointments with more specialists.


I won't bore you with the details.  I'm just sharing a little something, as one does on this particular "blog" platform.  When one's child is ill, as this one has been, off and on for nearly four months with the same damn thing, it is the most helpless, frustrating feeling in the universe.  I've always been an extremely practical mom.  Not hitting the pediatrician much.  Able to mom-doc diagnose pretty much every single thing that's come our way.  This thing has me running in circles, antibiotics, pain meds and cranberry juice in hand for way too long.  Hence the little trip to fun-town a.k.a. our local emergency room, last night.  


I feel somewhat eased by a side diagnosis relative to "too many antibiotics but no real permanent damage" gotten by the VERY excellent (and kinda cute but he was no George Clooney) ER doc last night.  He even called to see how she was feeling when we got home.  I think he wants to date me.  But that's just my sleep deprived ego talkin'.


Overall it was down time well spent.  


But ER's are well avoided, unless you need your head sewn back on or that bullet removed.  And here's a hint:  walk in and say "My chest hurts" and all bets are off.  *makes note to try that next time to get the George Clooney/Noah Wylie treatment*


Thanks to all you for you supportive words as I killed time doing random posts on Facebook.
Liz