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Published in the Philadelphia Inquirer, South Jersey Commentary, September 24, 1999 A long way to go By Sidney B. Kurtz
Recently I had the ill fortune to require the assistance of Virtua-West Jersey Hospital's emergency-room staff. I say ill fortune because I was the patient. The hospital in Marlton, the treatment, and the food were great. But I was a little disappointed. Expecting to see something like TV's ER, I instead was witness to a medical creampuff. A busy creampuff, to be sure, but far from life-in-the-balance heroics seen on the television screen. Maybe Friday afternoons are an off day. No heart-attack victims having their chests opened and hearts massaged. No urgent requests for scalpels, clamps or hypos filled with pain depressants. No beds being pushed through the hall at 30 m.p.h. No excited shouting between nurses and doctors. And, worst of all, no romantic interludes - unless the security guard telling the patient rep that he was married in 1989 and divorced in 1994 qualifies. Napping fitfully behind the curtain in holding room No. 3, I was rudely evicted - bed and all - and abandon in the hallway to make space for a more serious case. I suppose severe dehydration and unusually low blood pressure accompanied by an unusually low heart rate are not serious enough for room No. 3. So there I found myself, hemmed in by a plastic bag filled with my earthly possessions to my right, a portable heart monitor on my left, and an IV bottle hanging behind me - its nourishing liquid draining into my arm, one overpriced drop at a time. To break up the afternoon, I was sent into X-ray for a CAT scan of my head - five minutes inside the tunnel of love, without the love. Afterward, I asked the technician how I made out. "We didn't find anything," she answered. I didn't know quite how to take that. I was shipped back out into the hallway, which was now quite busy - a broken leg here a bruised forehead there. I did hear a request for a catheterization, but they wouldn't let me watch. Other patients were wheeled past now and then. I could swear the same guy was pushed past me three times. I wondered if they were taking him out the exit and back through the entrance to make things look more exciting. By this time it was 4 p.n., three hours after I arrived, and I was getting a bit hungry, having had only oatmeal, toast and coffee for breakfast. The nurse informed me that coffee is a diuretic and is really not a suitable drink. She said I should increase my water intake. I agreed with her and made a mental note to look up diuretic in the dictionary when I got home. I asked her what she had for breakfast. "A cup of coffee," she answered. Karen, who had earlier introduced herself as my ER nurse, stopped by to assure me I'd be in a room in five minutes. That was timely news because duty was calling - urgently. I said if it's only five minutes I could wait. Ten minutes later I couldn't wait. But now the hall was suddenly empty and I needed to be unhooked from both the IV and the monitor. Where was everybody when I needed them? Somehow, I held out. But something else was wrong. My monitor had ceased beeping, but I was still alive. How come? Karen finally appeared. I didn't know what to complain about first. I chose the monitor. "Something's wrong," I said. "It's stopped beeping." "You need a new battery," she told me. "I don't run on batteries. Would you check my pulse?" She stared at me. "We don't start worrying until the patient turns blue." "Really?" I answered. "What color am I?" "Red, with a tinge of purple. Why are you squeezing your thighs together like that?" "I've got to go to the bathroom," I moaned. "Your room is waiting. You ready to go up?" "I'm ready to go," I said grimly, "but not up." Another look at my contorted face and she unhooked me. But as I crawled from the bed, a young visitor beat me into the nearest bathroom and locked the door. I wiggled courageously back onto the bed. It's not easy when your thighs are clamped together in a death grip. "Upstairs, Karen!" I shouted. "And step on it!" Karen never drove faster. Somehow I managed to get to the bathroom and into bed high and, more important, dry. Remind me never to get sick on a weekend. Sidney B. Kurtz is the author of a family memoir, The Jewish Rectangle: An American Adventure. He lives in Pennsauken. |