April 20, 2007

The pre-admission physical is required by the hospital and no procedure will take place if it isn't done. Or so I was told by the scheduler. I dutifully scheduled it for April twenty, exactly ten days before the procedure just as I was told was the perfect timing.
We waited for a short while to get in. A man I had never before seen came to the waiting room in blue jeans, sneakers and a button down.

"Greg?", he asked rather tentatively.

I rose and walked toward him. Sally was right behind me. She comes along schlepping my note pad and documents and our new digital voice recorder. I always kid her about wanting to be there the minute they say anything that might let her file the life insurance claim. Anything to speed that process along. She knows I'm only kidding her. It's her way of showing that she cares.

As we walk down the hall to a patient room, he explains that he is Doctor Harris. He just comes in to keep them in line. He was head of some department at Condell Hospital until three years ago when he had some seizure malady, brain surgery, etc. He doesn't practice medicine but has kept his license up and just helps out around the office.

This is okay by me. He had some misfortune (like I don't) and they are taking care of him by letting him work up to his abilities. I see that as nice. He takes my blood pressure and updates my medicine list and leaves us for the doctor.

Kathy comes in with an EKG machine and a fist full of leads. He helps her hook me up to the twelve lead EKG and get a strip run. Sally and I sit and talk while waiting for the doctor. Sally has a list of questions we have for the doctor.

Doc comes in, sits down and starts to read my chart. Which is huge after five years of my history. He is apparently reading for the first time many of the test results and says nothing. Line by line following the text and occasionally underlining phrases. Like we did when we highlighted in school. He asked haltingly, "Did ... you ... maybe have ... just below... your... knee... on the left...some... damage?

I said, "Yes. I fell down a flight of stairs when I was a kid. They called it a 'green stick break'."

"That would explain that. We need some blood drawn, go with doctor Harris." And I followed to the lab room just down the hall.

He started on the left arm and asked if that was where they usually drew from. I said no that has not worked for many years. They usually get it from my right forearm or hands. He moved around to my right and said, "Oh yea! That looks good."

I quickly informed him that what he saw was really like a rubber band stretched through my arm. I know it looks good; but it isn't worth a shit. Even I would think that I could get blood there; but that well is dry. He insisted that he was the MASTER and could get blood where no others could. He taught others to draw blood.

So I watched as he pricked my arm and proceeded to slide it in and out. Maybe a little higher angle. No, maybe if he held it from from the side so it wouldn't roll. No, maybe if he pushed a little further in. DAMN that 1 1/2 inch needle is just too short. Oh well just push harder.

He had the needle in all the way and the syringe was pushing in a big dimple. Finally, blood! Glorious blood. He had to pump the little vial to draw any. The flow was almost imperceptible. Ever so slowly we got about half of each of three vials in ten minutes. Of course there was also blood coming out around the syringe too. That blood has been exposed to air and is contaminated. We can't suck that up to inject in the vials.

I went back to the patient room and Sally was still waiting for me. I asked if she had asked the doctor about our questions; but he had not come back after I left the room. Kathy came by and said she thought we were done; she would ask doctor. He had moved on and was a with another patient we were free to go. Kathy gave me a big hug and wished us good luck.