I have been stuck to this uncomfortable bed for almost my entire shift of 12 hours now. I am convinced by this time that the CT has broken and they are now drawing the pictures. Patience is not a recognizable option to my brain. I have spent hours trying to diagnose myself. I am apprehensive, feeling very alone for the first time ever. Alone is what I have been all of my life. A choice I have never regretted. Now, in this cold, noisy, bad news bearing casam, I find I would pay a stranger to sit in that chair at the end of my bed. I am thinking anywhere but here, with anyone but myself.
Dr. G. appears at my bedside. "Patty, afraid I have some bad news. I need to admit you! Complete and total panic. Admit...me? Let me just say that I am not a good patient. For having worked in hospitals for so many years I refuse to stay in one. Ask anyone that knows me. I had surgery a few years back for my knee. I wasn't out of recovery 1 hour before I was calling my sister to come and get me and the nurses upstairs to take me outside for a smoke. One did, Carol I love you for that!
"The CT came back to show masses", masses ? More than one? "You have them on both adrenal glands and "I need to admit you for a workup and consults. The voice in my head screaming cigarette makes his voice go soft. "I am pretty sure you have not that word again, Peochromocytoma". On this day I am 53 years old. Now at the best place in my life to date. I am scrambling, trying to figure out how I can refuse admission and still keep my job. My cat! My house unattended! No smoking! Worst food ever! All perfectly good reasons not to stay. I find myself trying to make a deal with Dr. G. Let me run home, take care of my cat and bring my car home as they get broken into at work. I had no illusions, I am sure he had decided a mental health eval might be a good thing also. He fired back, "insurance will not pay for the care received if I leave against medical advice". I am a danger on the road with my blood-pressure so high. Even the thought of a stroke and hurting someone doesn't seem to matter now. I can't really think anything except what I now know was a "flight" urge. Surprisingly though, I convinced him to let me do it. He pulled the curtain and told me I had 30 minutes. I lived further than 30 minutes away so, I called Mr. B. at his mother's hoping there was enough clarity in him to be of assistance to me for once. I needed him to feed my cat! He did and I appreciated that!
Without warning, Judy and Nora, two nurses from my department pop around the curtain! As happy as I am to see them I am a panic to leave or break down in full on tears. Word spreads fast on the "inside". Somehow they knew I was being admitted. Just seeing them helped. No longer feeling alone, I am just disgusted. I don't want to stay, don't really want to know anymore. In the last five years prior I had lost 2 younger brothers, still in their 40's. They had children, families and I had said out loud more than once I would have gladly gone in their place. Both left us suddenly and without warning. Good-bye privilege revoked. I'll never know what made me come back to that hospital.
I have spent two days being poked, prodded, pumped and measured. I am reaching my breaking point but, still have heard nothing from the docs. Money tab is running and I am missing more work. One of the consult Dr.s' appears to finally present their case. She has known me for awhile and easily recognizes my anxiety is out of control. I get a dose of something that seems to almost immediately take it down a notch. She pulls up a chair and opened my chart. I am screaming on the inside and wonder if she can hear it. "Cancer, both glands, very rare, metanephrines, catecholamines, diabetes, Cushings' syndrome, very low survival rate, you can go home now".
Where is that damn tequila?
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