Super Sunday
I was so looking forward to the Super Bowl this year. Not because I really cared who won; I couldn't name more than three players from either team. I don't watch football much anymore, being more of a baseball and basketball fan the last few years. But I'd worked each of the last seven nights with a nagging upper respiratory infection sucking the life out of me for the last three, and so I was ready for a day off. Barbeque, beer, and football: just a typical day in heaven, I suppose, but to a nightshift ER doc a day off that coincides with something actually happening in the world is precious indeed.
So I tiptoed into the house after my brutal slog of shifts only to find my wife was already awake. And crying. When I am faced with the prospect of diagnosing and treating a family member's medical condition, I feel like Superman when he is weakened by Kryptonite. My medical powers disappear, and I am just another mere mortal.
Well, that's not exactly true. I think my ability remains intact, but the physician-patient relationship is altered. As I have mentioned before, the interaction seems to work better when there is a little emotional disconnect. Besides, she was hurting and she probably needed some narcotics, but the Bizarro Medical Board frowns on physicians prescribing the good stuff to spouses. So after I had exhausted all of the nonnarcotic arrows in my quiver (and taken a short nap), off to the ER we went. Yes, the last place I wanted to spend my day off.
It was interesting seeing the process from the "concerned husband" perspective. After the doctor interviewed and examined her and discussed the tests he was going to do, he asked her if she wanted something for pain.
"No, I'm OK right now" she said. And so he left.
"Umm, honey? The whole reason we came here is to get you some pain relief. Remember?"
"Well, I'll just ask him when he comes back."
"He's not coming back until all of your tests are done and he's ready to discharge you," I said knowingly. If then, I thought.
"Then I'll just ask the nurse when she comes back in."
Yes, I think you'd better.
Fortunately everything turned out OK, her pain was relieved, and I only missed the first quarter of the game.
So I tiptoed into the house after my brutal slog of shifts only to find my wife was already awake. And crying. When I am faced with the prospect of diagnosing and treating a family member's medical condition, I feel like Superman when he is weakened by Kryptonite. My medical powers disappear, and I am just another mere mortal.
Well, that's not exactly true. I think my ability remains intact, but the physician-patient relationship is altered. As I have mentioned before, the interaction seems to work better when there is a little emotional disconnect. Besides, she was hurting and she probably needed some narcotics, but the Bizarro Medical Board frowns on physicians prescribing the good stuff to spouses. So after I had exhausted all of the nonnarcotic arrows in my quiver (and taken a short nap), off to the ER we went. Yes, the last place I wanted to spend my day off.
It was interesting seeing the process from the "concerned husband" perspective. After the doctor interviewed and examined her and discussed the tests he was going to do, he asked her if she wanted something for pain.
"No, I'm OK right now" she said. And so he left.
"Umm, honey? The whole reason we came here is to get you some pain relief. Remember?"
"Well, I'll just ask him when he comes back."
"He's not coming back until all of your tests are done and he's ready to discharge you," I said knowingly. If then, I thought.
"Then I'll just ask the nurse when she comes back in."
Yes, I think you'd better.
Fortunately everything turned out OK, her pain was relieved, and I only missed the first quarter of the game.
Labels: ER, nightshifts, patients
posted by scalpel at 2:28 PM
6 Comments:
My son, who lives in another city, just called with what sounds like an inguinal hernia, maybe even incarcerated. It nearly made me ill: thinking of him getting operated by someone I don't know, who probably doesn't do a hernia repair NEAR as slick as mine. Maybe it'd even be worse if I were there, like you were.
Sort of a sloppy game; commercials less than stellar this year. But baseball is nearly upon us.
I hope your wife feels better soon.
It's very hard to step out of your medical role and be the family member isn't it? I've been in that position with my parents and it is very difficult not to be pushy.
You're a sweet husband for being concerned about your wife's pain. I know, it sounds baseline, but not every husband gives a damn when their wife is suffering. I hope she feels better soon.
MJ
What on earth is that country music?
hope you wife feels better
I don't get american football isn't it just rugby with pads?
superman weakened by kryptonite!!
superb analogy!!
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