At least it was a good hair day
So, I watched the girl with the cell phone get closer and closer to her car, as she alternated between talking and walking. She'd take a couple steps, then stop to yell into the phone and gesticulate with her free hand, walk a little further until she couldn't contain herself anymore, and then stop to have another outburst. She finally got her butt in the car and drove away, leaving me a space to park in. I wanted to kiss the beautiful asphalt between those two white lines. After walking through a labyrinth of hallways and elevators, I made it to the ER, and was seen pretty quickly--before I could even finish filling out the paperwork. Which turned out not to be such a good thing because, wow, those registration people have no mercy. When they ask you to fill out paperwork, they mean NOW. You're dominant arm is dislocated? You can't write that fast with your non-dominant hand? The nurse is trying to start an IV in your good arm? Well, then you'd better write with your toes. Do not make them ask you twice for your paper work. It's like registration has it's own Cosa Nostra to make sure people do as they're told. The instant I put the pen down so that the nurse could start an IV in my arm, the registration lady was standing by my bed, glaring down at me and cracking her knuckles. She didn't say it, but the message was clear: get that filled out and signed or we'll make sure you never come back from X-ray. Capice?
My first order of business was to get the triage nurse to document the fact that I have EDS. She asked me if I had any medical problems, and I told her. But she also seemed to have a very short attention span, so it wasn't that simple. It didn't help that "Ehlers Danlos Syndrome" isn't nearly as familiar or easy to spell as "diabetes" or "hypertension." This is why my medical ID bracelet makes my life so much easier. All I had to do was pull it off, get her attention ("Look! It's shiny!"), and hand it to her so she could copy the information into the chart. The next order of business was to try to avoid narcotic pain relievers because: (a.) As I've mentioned before, each one of them makes me feel crappy in its own special way, (b.) I drove myself to the hospital and needed to be able to drive back, and (c.) I had too much crap to take care of later to be high on drugs. I expressed my preference for non-narcotic analgesia when the doctor started talking about giving me something for the pain. He replied that it wasn't what he had in mind anyway, and that he'd ordered Toradol instead. He changed his mind when he got a closer look at my shoulder, though. "Oh wow, I didn't see that big dent in your shoulder before! Sorry, I didn't realize it was dislocated until I saw that. The Toradol isn't going to do much for your pain, and it'll be hard to pop it back in if you can't relax."
I am hard-headed, so I asked if I could give the Toradol a try first, before resorting to the Morphine he wanted to give me. What I'm not is an M.D. (yet?), so he turned out to be right, and I turned out to be wrong. The Toradol did pretty much nothing, and the muscles around my shoulder were still very tense from the pain. I was also nauseated from the pain and/or the Toradol, so the nurse (a different one) gave me Morphine and Phenergan (for the nausea). A minute or two later, I had big, red welts on my forearm along the vein the IV was in--obviously an allergic reaction to one of the three drugs. Which one of them I don't know because they were given to me in such close succession. The funny thing is that I've had each of those drugs at least once before, but apparently it can take a couple exposures to develop a reaction to something you're allergic to. Anyway, the nurse came back within seconds and injected Benadryl into my IV. Too little too late I guess, because in an instant, before I could even open my mouth to tell her something was wrong, I could barely breathe. It felt like I was choking on my own throat. Good thing she could take a hint. I didn't notice them come in, but all of a sudden there were a couple doctors in the room ordering epi(nephrine), oxygen, a pulse ox., and listening to my chest. Eventually, the choking sensation started fading and it was a little easier to breathe. I was really sorry I didn't fill out my paperwork like they'd asked me to.
Thankfully, the rest of my ER visit was pretty boring in comparison. They got my arm back in its socket using some kind of medieval torture technique--me lying face down on the bed with my dislocated arm hanging off the edge, the nurse pulling down on the arm, the doctor pushing down on my shoulder blade with both his hands, and both of them telling me to relax--but at least they got it back in without making me play Russian roulette with any more IV medications, so I'm not complaining. Plus, not only did they get it back in, but all the rolling around on the bed must have given my hair a sexy disheveled look because the X-ray tech who did my post-reduction films said I had pretty hair! That entire day was definitely worth it then.
I left the hospital 8 hours after I came in, just in time to go straight back to where this whole mess started: work. There were no complaints about me being 4 minutes late, but I don't think they were too pleased with the fact that I was wearing the same clothes I had on when I got off my shift that same morning. I think the sexy hair made up for it though.
Posted by Girl, Dislocated at 09:58
14 Comments:
HOLY CRAP! Thank God you're okay now! I had a similar experience during a popliteal nerve block before my foot surgery. They had me on my stomach, and the nurse put a few meds in my IV, one of which I know was fentanyl. I wasn't hooked up to any monitors; my mom was sitting nearby, and she saw that my face was turning blue. She had to literally physically force the nurse to LOOK AT ME, and then everyone was scrambling. By the time they got me to regain consciousness, she counted 18 people (all medical staff) around my bed! I've never been so popular!
Oh, and the next morning, two people complimented me on the color of my hair.
I guess that means you're going to have to make up that midterm. Well, at least you can honestly say you had a near-death experience.
And if it's any consolation, I can never fill out those forms when I'm in the ER by myself - the print is too small for me. Sometimes the staff is happy to help me, but usually I get the same pissed-off, "what do you mean I have to do my job?" reaction.
By 
Ioma, at
17:13
So wait, what about the shoes?
By 
mist1, at
17:40
I like your eye makeup. I would comment more, but I want to get to the shoes..
By Winter, at
19:42
Did you know that patients with EDS are xxx more times likely to develop allergic reactions to meds? The general population is 1% and we've reported up to 30%.
In my case, I suddenly developed an allergic reaction to Celebrex. They gave me a few steroid pills (and caused temporary adrenal insufficiency that lasted for 8 months - much to the shock and amusement of the Mayo Clinic. 'Why ma'am, we've never see something like this before. And you say it was a few pills? Huh!).
I share this with you in the hopes that you do understand that we are truly special. Really. Even without shoes.
Morgan "EDS Me Too" Dawn
By , at
20:23
Good Hell, you need a vacation!! Though be careful, you don't want to have another road trip from hell. lol...I've loved the more recent updates...keep them coming, I love your writing!
Chrissy
By , at
23:07
first it's the shoes, now it's the sexy hair. Did something else happen? I'm just noticing the fashion here.
By Avitable, at
23:45
Don't you LOVE the compassion co-workers show?
I can see it now -
"Good morning GD, how... yeah, what happened... uh-huh. So, you know you are wearing the same clothes... right? *sniff*"
By BentHalo, at
09:54
You guys all left the funniest comments! Thanks for making me laugh today!
Ioma - That kind of popularity we can all do without! I hate being surrounded like that with a passion! The nice registration people, for some reason, are really rare. I use to feel guilty about making someone fill out my paperwork for me, but I got over it!
Mist - I'm feeling much better now, thanks for asking.
Winter - Thank you! Now I know I looked awesome--nice heels, sexy hair, and good eye makeup! Yeah, yeah I'm getting to the shoes. . .
Morgan "EDS you too" Dawn - There are so many strange medical issues I'm remembering from my childhood (before anyone knew I had EDS) that make so much more sense now. It's unfortunate that there's so little research about all the various issues that seem to be associated with EDS, but I really feel lucky that I at least have a diagnosis and know of the possibilities.
When the Mayo Clinic is shocked and amused, that can't be a good thing. . .
Chrissy - Thank you for the sweet compliment! Another road trip is definitely in the works--this time with my Dislocation Survival Kit in the front seat at all times!
Avitable - Something else always happens, but I guess I just naturally exude fashionability (fashionableness?) because I wasn't intentionally trying to dazzle everyone with my sense of fashion and style!
Benthalo - Those compassionate co-workers are so damn lucky I showed up for my shift straight from the ER instead of calling off. I could have rolled around in manure and took a bath in the sewer before walking in, and they would not be entitled to complain!
By Girl, Dislocated, at
18:05
Holy Crap! You're right, it is usually on the second exposure of something that the allergy shows up. Thankfully those doctors were on top of things! I'm glad you got out of there, of course in time to go BACK to work!
That is too funny about the sexy hair. I guess sexy hair can remedy any situation, huh?
By Elizabeth, at
19:44
Elizabeth - I don't think it's fair at all for allergies to work that way; it made me look like a liar when I told them I wasn't allergic to any of those drugs.
As I've grown and matured over the years, I've come to realize that, yes, sexy hair does remedy just about any situation.
By Girl, Dislocated, at
16:21
Well, look at it this way, the pain of having a dislocation reset is totally offset when you're unable to breathe...didn't feel a thing, didja?
By Miss Ann Thrope, at
23:39
Hi,
My name is Laurie and I write a blog about living with rare diseases/chronic illnesses. I really enjoy your blog and your attitude/approach towards illness and calamity. I have a couple questions I'd like to ask you for a health project I am doing; since I can't e-mail you directly, would you be willing to visit my blog and e-mail me there to establish contact? I don't mean to sound so vague, it will all make sense, I promise!
Hope you are doing okay!
By Laurie, at
00:32
Miss Ann Thrope - Hi :) Not being able to breathe was definitely a distraction from the shoulder-for me AND for the doctors. They should have popped it in then, but they were too distracted getting me to breathe to worry about it either. Still a good break from the pain though!
Laurie - I feel special now! I tried to email you, but I can't seem to get into my email account right now. I'll keep trying, but in the meantime, my email address is: d_i_s_l_o_c_a_t_e_d at yahoo dot com. I'll leave this on your blog too.
By Girl, Dislocated, at
02:13
*hops on the bandwagon* I spontaneously developed an allergy to Vicodin (the only pain reliever, narcotic or otherwise, that worked for me).
AND after every near death experience that occurs in a hospital, I get compliments on my hair. Crazy.
Hope all body parts are attached to your body at current.
By Liz, at
22:10
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