Chapter 2: Surviving the ER

Tom pulled into emergency drop off area at the ER, ran into the waiting room and grabbed a wheelchair. Waiting in the car I couldn’t help but notice the people waiting around the doors, sad, crying and consoling each other. I couldn’t help but get caught up in their moment wondering what their tragedy was. I vaguely recall what Jeffery was doing in the back seat up to this point, I know he asked how I was, he was genuinely concerned about his Mommy, but the questions he asked or any statements he may have made have erased themselves from my memory. I don’t really remember getting into the wheel chair, I do, however, remember being wheeled passed the group of grieving people, so slowly, their sobs echoing in my ear as I moved passed them until they were gone. The pain in my leg was so overwhelming by this time; all I could concentrate on was breathing through it and not throwing up. I was sweating and shaking. Tom was going over all the necessities with the guy in admitting and I was trying to focus on what he was saying, but only processing what was being said in each little moment and out the window it would go. Jeffery just kept asking, “Mommy are you ok, can I help you?” Rat-a-tap-tap, rat-a-tap-tap, I was desperately trying to find a beat with my fingers on the arm of the wheel chair, my left foot and calf consumed with a fire and achiness, so deep and overwhelming, it stole every ounce of my concentration. However, I do remember that ridiculous pain scale question that everyone hates, being asked by the admitting guy, “On scale from 1 to-“ “A TEN!” I cut him off at the pass, absolutely irritated that he couldn’t observe and make an educated decision on his own. I remember thinking, “How fucking oblivious can a person be?” Now mind you, I realize it is not his job to rate my pain, but in that very moment I could have cared less what was in his job description, I just wanted him to not be a drone and use some common sense. A moment later Tom was finished and was asked to wheel me over to the waiting area and assured someone would be with us as soon as possible. I remember there was a TV and couple other people sitting around, but the waiting area was mostly quiet. Tom took Jeffery outside, made a couple phone calls, parked the car and let the dogs out to go to the bathroom, I have no idea how much time had passed by now, for every minute wasoverflowing with the pain and hundreds of scattered thoughts throughout brain. “If I can’t work how are we going to pay our bills? How are we going to pay for this or that? What a stupid, stupid thing to due. Tom is going to be so upset with me.”

“Stephanie Jensen.” A quiet voice came from the back of the waiting room; it was a nurse. I looked around to see if Tom had come back when my wheelchair started to move, he had indeed come back and we were headed into a room. “It’s about time” is all I thought. Once back into room I was bombarded by the same questions we had just answered a few minutes earlier, “Good grief do people not talk to each other around here, or not read chart notes? For crying out loud?” Tom leaned down and said “Just answer the questions, she was only trying to do her job.” OOPS, I had used my outside voice. I tried very hard to accommodate answering questions; anxiously awaiting the doctor’s arrival. I figured I would be getting a shot of morphine for the pain any minute, but nothing was ever offered. Five minutes turned into 30 minutes as I watched the clock and the nurse come in and out to check my blood pressure and nothing, I mean I was in obvious pain here and no indication of pain relief was in sight. During all of this Jeffery was watching Hannah Montana on the TV and schooling Tom on her double personality. I laughed a few times at my two boys trying to make the best of a very difficult situation.

It was about 8:30 P.M. when Tom and Jeffery were asked to leave the room; the x-ray tech was wheeling in the x-ray machine to take films of my ankle. She was an attractive 40ish woman with blonde a braided pony tail and I think a German accent. She was so kind and tried so hard to be gentle when positioning my foot for the three films she needed. I tried as well to be a really good cooperative patient, but I uncontrollably cried and cried and cried. I apologized for crying, but couldn’t seem to stop no matter hard I tried, the tears just kept a comin’. She finished, opologized several times in her sweet accent, then excused herself. I tried to reassure her that I wasn’t upset; she did a great job and I appreciated her kindness. She left mumbling some words to Tom and the nurse that I could not understand. I could however here Jefffery, “What’s that machine do? What were you doin’? You wanna hear a joke?” That’s my kid, always the comedian!

I finally asked the nurse if I could please have some pain meds, mind you, I had been at the ER now over an hour. Her response? “The doctor is very busy tonight, I can’t give you anything until he comes in to see you.” By now I was wishing that I had just given in and listened to Tom when he first suggested we go Providence in Newberg. Another half an hour goes by before the nurse finally came in with a shot of morphine. The x-ray tech, bless her heart, had refused to take the additional films of my ankle that the doctor wanted until someone gave me pain meds. I still hadn’t seen a doctor yet, but I didn’t care, I was going to feel better in a moment.

With drugs in my system and my sister on her way to get Jeffery and the dogs, the world was beginning to be a better place. My really nice nurse was going off duty and switched places with a very cynical nurse who looked as though she had just spent the last 3 hours sucking on lemons. Finally DR. wha wha wha came in where I heard blah, blah, blah. A little while goes by and I’ll be damned if the nurse versions of Cali and Little Grey (doctors on Grey’s Anatomy) walked in discussing their love triangle with some guy that they or she broke up with got switched to the night shift, yada yada yada. THESE were the girls that were going to put my splint/cast on my leg, sourpuss and love gone wrong. Could this night get any worse? Temp Mr. Murphy and his law, see what you get. I tried my best to be as appropriate and accommodating as possible while Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb wrestled with my leg like it was fumbled football. Breathing and holding back the tears, I heard one of them bark orders to Tom to get into some drawer and grab whatever, “NO NOT THAT ONE, THE OTHER ONE.” They snapped at him, as if he had been working there for years and was disgusted at his incompetence. "Thud" went my leg onto the bed, we were finished. Finally, after hours of being in the middle of a prime time drama series, we were able to leave. Exhausted and embarrassed I crawled into the wheel chair where the discharge nurse came and began to explain what we would be doing next. Now pay close attention here, cause it is relevant in the next chapter. Our nurse handed us a bottle of Vicoden and a prescription for Percocet to be filled on Monday or Tuesday. He told us to call Dr. Roe’s office on Tuesday and schedule an appointment for the follow up concerning the fractures that Dr. Wah Wah had found on the x-rays. He advised that I "set my alarm and a take 1 Percocet every two hours to stay on top of the pain," wheeled us out to our car, helped me into the back seat of the Expedition, closed the door and we were on our way home...