This week, I learned I can watch the parade a little closer to home.
Earle started with a backache about 10 days ago, promptly saw a doctor, was prescribed a muscle relaxant, handfuls of Ibuprofen, rest and time. Unable to even stretch out in bed, he managed to sleep sitting up, work from his home computer, and grimly and unhappily passed the days.
Friday night we were treated to Durham's "new normal" - a thunderous monsoon of a storm. About 7:45 pm our power went out. About 8:00 pm Earle's back went out. Which is to say the muscles in his back clenched and knotted unlike anything I have ever seen. And the banshee like noises that sprung from his mouth were unlike anything I had ever heard! I found him in our bedroom on his knees. With the assistance of my oldest son and several flashlights, we managed to cram him, howling, in the back seat of our Ford and set off for the closest hospital, Duke.
The ride there was no less taxing and I remembered that I had heard similar cries of pain. In the delivery room. In between spasms, Earle and I discussed the progression of his labor. The baby was definitely coming.
Upon arriving at the Devil's backdoor (the ER) I jumped out of the car and asked the nearest person - a big strong guy - for help with my husband. He explained he was a valet and ran inside for assistance. In a moment the doors swished open. I blinked and looked for our rescuer. In the back lit entrance I could make out the tiniest nurse I have ever seen. I could have carried her in my purse. But she strode over to my back seat and somehow managed to entice the growling bear out of his den and into a wheelchair, through the entrance, past the metal detector and through the check-in line.
My hope was that upon seeing the extreme discomfort of my husband we would likewise be whisked into a room. It was not to be. He was pushed to the nearest row of chairs, crying out in pain, while we waited for our turn with the triage nurse. Considering his pain level was a 20+ he managed very well, though apologizing repeatedly for such outbursts. As I became accustomed to his cries I slowly began to register the people around me.
The parade had come to town.
First I heard the muttering of the hive mind. Many were discussing Earle's situation and I heard the words "kidney stone" more than once. I slowly turned and looked about and beheld a veritable tent city of hospital-issued white blankets. Some folks had pulled two chairs together and were tucked neatly into their "beds". Others wore the blankets like capes, some pacing about like Julius Caesar muttering no doubt "Et tu Brute?" Two folks sit motionless and quiet each with a blanket draped completely over their heads like a ghost costume on Halloween - only no eye holes. More sounds - sneezes, hacking coughs, moans, tears. I thought of all the legions of viruses and bacteria heading for me and willed my immune system to HOLD THE FORT.
One man told me he had been waiting with his wife 13 hours but had been told the wait at Wake was only 20 minutes. (Earle say NO to another joy ride). I watched the others mill about. One man was wearing a Tshirt inscribed with "ROLL YOUR OWN" and an odd looking leaf. He smelled funny. A beautiful elderly lady, well dressed with adorable kitten heels sat calmly with the most beatific smile on her face. Her husband sat nearby, charming and gallant and holding her purse.
Thankfully Earle's spasms eased up a bit and we made a quick trip to triage and then parked back among our people. Earle slept a bit slumped into his wheelchair and I settled in to the new Stephen King book, aptly titled Joyland.
At about midnight our new friends with the 13 hour wait were called back. There was applause.
Earle was thirsty. There was no water in the drink machine (This was Hell, after all.) I went and got in line to ask for some and found myself behind two other men. The first was admitting himself and clearly needed a place to sleep off a good drunk. The other was a man who arrived when we did trying to find out when he and his wife would "go back." Our hostess for the evening checked the computer and told him the wait was definitely down - only 10 hours! After requesting water, I too asked about the wait and learned that since Earle was in such pain we would get one of the next beds.
Human traffic flowed in and out and with each departure my hope grew. My buddy's wife was admitted and he came through to move his car, calling out "good luck" to us. The smiling woman went back. One VERY large middle-aged woman was mad she hadn't been called back and whipped out her cell phone to complain loudly and crudely to her family.
Folks settled in for the night while late night shows played on the overhead TV. The same sex couple nearby found comfortable positions, the two women who brought 5 children in with them quieted their flock. Thankfully Earle dozed.
And when we least expected it, at arrival + six hours, we were called back! Showtime!
Though it is hard for me to say good things about the darker shade of blue, I will definitively state here that we had excellent nursing care at Duke. Two nurses, including the tadpole that helped us in, got on the floor with Earle to start an IV when he fell to his knees with his second set of big spasms. And many people responded to his cries once we were back in a room. Our assigned nurse was constant, steady, and encouraging. And what joy to have a room, not a curtain. Our young doctor came by. We expect the ink on his med school degree was not quite dry, but he was followed by two supervising M.Ds. who clearly knew what they were about. The care was thorough and determined. When Earle couldn't lay down for a CAT scan - they tried again with additional meds until he could. Obviously they had consulted with the waiting room as they wanted to check for renal stones. As night turned into morning, they had discovered no stones and felt confident that these were indeed just muscle spasms. We gratefully accepted prescriptions for more powerful medications and eagerly told our caregivers goodbye.
After a stop at the front desk ("What?" they said. "No-one came by to ask for insurance information?") we turned the wheelchair around and had a last look at the waiting room. It had miraculously cleared out. Only two of three white blankets were visible. Only a few gentle snores could be heard.
The Parade had moved on. If only Duke served cotton candy.
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| Earle in his room at the Duke ER |
