Don't Look!

....... if you're squeemish. Not graphic but still, some of you might get the heebie jeebies.

Alrighty. You all know the implant failed on Thursday, 3/25. I was told after I came out of recovery that Interventional Radiology would call me Friday to tell me what time I should be there on Monday to have the Port implant done and if I didn't hear from them by 3pm I should call them. I started thinking about this Friday morning, 3/26, and decided that if I waited until 3pm it would be too late and I'd be looking at Wed, at the earliest, to get this done, so I called them at 11 am Friday morning. Guess what. They didn't know the first thing about this. I had a minor fit over the phone and finally a nurse uncovered "something" and we made the appt for Monday, 3/29, 11am lab, 12pm check in, 1pm implant. I asked her who was sending the lab order and could I be assured it would be there. She assured me she was sending it and it would be there. I get to lab at 10:45am and no lab orders. I had to march from the Galter building over to the Fienberg building to Interventional Radiology only to discover they don't order labs, it has to come from the Dr ordering the procedure done. They finally found someone who would order the lab and I marched back over to Galter to have my blood drawn to check for blood thinner levels known as INR. Finally done at lab I march back over to Fienberg to IR (Interventional Radiology) to check in. As I'm checking in I'm reading the orders and to my surprise discover Dr. Fryer (doc from Thursday who screwed up the implant and never did attempt to implant the Port) had written the order for a "Hickman", not a "Port" implant. I told the receptionist this was wrong and she told me I would have to take care of it in the back where they prep you. I get back there, get undressed and into my gown and in comes the nurse to start my IV. I asked her if they had gotten the INR results back and she looked at me like I had just grown a 3rd eye in the middle of my forehead. No, the results had not come back yet so I told her she to please wait to start the IV because if the levels were too high we would have to reschedule. I knew darned good and well the levels were low but why chance it? Pretty soon here comes the Doc, a Dr. Mitchell. He strides into my cube, shakes my hand, smiles and says, "Hi there Mrs. Swope, I see we're here today for a Hickman implant". I says "No, it's Ms Swope and no, it's not a Hickman, it's supposed to be a Port". He looks at the orders and says "It says here a Hickman" and looked at me kind of funny. "I can't put something in that's not ordered, I'll call the Dr. to see about getting it changed". Out he goes and I'm left there to start stewing. About 20 minutes later here comes poor Dr. Mitchell to tell me it's bad news. Dr. Fryer is gone for the week. I sat there in shock, just staring at him. THEN he tells me that he had also called the resident that assisted in the failed implant and discovered that Dr. Fryer had emphatically insisted on a Hickman, no Port and had in fact NEVER EVEN ATTEMPTED TO IMPLANT THE PORT, he had gone straight to the Hickman. I sat there in complete shock and disbelief. AND THEN I LOST IT. Now remember, this area is a room full of beds filled full of patients either waiting for procedures or recovering from procedures and the only thing that separates everyone are curtains. I said, "That BASTARD! We had discussed this 2 days prior to surgery PLUS the day of surgery and he was told I did NOT want a Hickman, that I had an adhesive allergy and I would be back at square one with having to have the thing replaced every 4-6 weeks. NO HICKMAN!" I also told him that I have an employer who is not sympathetic to my medical condition and is not happy about all the time I've had to take off getting treatment, etc. They're trying to make me take this time unpaid so I've been using vacation time. I was furious and EVERYONE knew it! The place had suddenly become dead quiet, you could have heard a pin drop. Poor Dr. Mitchell again told me there was nothing he could do, that we would have to cancel, I would have to meet with Dr. Fryer to discuss and reschedule in about a month. That's when I REALLY LOST it. I lowered my head, stared at him over my glasses and hissed in a loud, ominous voice "Alright, it's canceled. BUT, I am NOT leaving this hospital until I've talked to the director of customer service OR the president of the hospital. If that means I have to stand in the middle of the lobby downstairs and scream at the top of my lungs until someone talks to me then that's exactly what I will do. In my gown with my white cheesy ass hanging out, I don't care!" Poor Dr. Mitchell took my hand, said he understood, that he would get me the charge nurse who would get someone down there to talk to me. And out he went. Quickly. I sat there for a few minutes just steaming and then I decided I had had enough. I LEAPED out of my bed, whipped off my gown (the curtain was open), stood there in my panties and socks, no bra and started getting dressed, I didn't give a shit who saw me or what they saw. I'm dressed, standing there with my arms crossed when all of a sudden I hear the swinging doors go whumph, whumph and there's Dr. Mitchell coming straight to my bay. He says, "get back into your gown, we're good to go". I looked at him and he told me the assisting Dr from Thursday had called him and told him that he had reviewed my case and decided that since all I was getting was magnesium a port would do. Yeah, right. What really happened was Dr. Mitchell called the assisting Doc and told him I was down there with my hair standing on end and my glasses perched on the end of my nose looking for blood and wasn't leaving until I had it all over me and everyone else within splatter range. THAT's when the orders were changed. So off we went, into the procedure room and 40 minutes later I was back in my bay with the Port implanted, recovering, getting dressed, wheeled out to the person that was taking me home and away I went.

Harumph!