Sunday, February 22, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
I thanked him appropriately and then told him I was frightened to see what extravagant was if this was not. He laughed... The night went downhill from there. I have fairly severe acid reflux and was taken down flat. I am afraid that our first Valentine's Day was spent with me throwing up and Mike rubbing my back telling me how much he had fallen in love with me. Sunday, I was feeling better and went to Mike's so that he could watch the Nascar race on his 50 inch high def tv while I slept on his couch. Unfortunately, I kept him up all night with continued belly issues of the lower end. As I left in the morning for work, he told me again how much he loved me, had fallen in love with me, and was enjoying himself. I think he has survived the trial by fire...
Today the girls called me to tell me that once again I had something waiting for me in the office. What I found waiting for me was another two dozen roses. Apparantly, the first 2 dozen were not acceptable being 2 roses short and another one being beheaded on the delivery. Mike politely emailed the company and told them he was unhappy. They offered to either refund or resend and since I was not feeling well, he thought they would brighten my day and had them resend new ones. Seriously? This is not extravagant?
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Penquin lady was my new patient for the day. I came in to find my list of office patients on my desk and heavily highlighted. The girls have a meathod. Green for a new patient, blue for an outpatient followup, and yellow for a hospital followup. I discovered today that purple and green means a really CRAZY new patient. Hard to imagine that one would be able to ascertain that the new patient was crazy by just speaking to her on the phone but they had. AND her daughter called the office to warn us about her.
Let me tell you, my friends, their assessment was not wrong. This woman was certifiable. The reason she came in to see the pulmonologists- TO BE EVALUATED FOR INHALING PENGUIN POOP. Yes, readers, you read that correctly penguin poop... while on vacation in Antarctica, she tripped and fell face first into penguin poop. She has a legitimate concern, bird feces when inhaled can translate into histoplasmosis. It is the tale she told that confirmed her mental instability.
I am not making this up, you can't. APPARANTLY, the patients tall thin stature was threatening for the penguins. (They are short, fat birds after all). She chose to wear a red sweater to the penguin area and that angered the penguins and they pushed her down. Yup, they pushed her down. She proceed to tell me that she intimidates all birds and is often attacked, EVEN when driving.
We ordered the appropriate tests to rule out histoplasmosis and offered her the name of a psychiatrist to help her come to terms with the fact that birds are so threatened by her... Seriously people, I had to walk out of the exam room 4 times, feigning being paged, to keep from laughing out loud in her face...
When I IM'd Mike about her, his response was Beware the Penguins- Dooby Dooby Doo, from one of my favorite bud lite commercials.
As I pulled up my hospital list, a name jumped out at me. A young patient that I have followed in the outpatient setting had been admitted to the Intensive Care Unit. She had seen us for a benign lung nodule but had a long history of breast cancer and had been struggling of late with multiple health issues. The last time I saw her, she seemed to have plateaued and was beginning to find her way with the new infirmities. But now, here she was.
It became clear, quickly, once I saw her and reveiewed the chart that my friend was not long for this world. The cancer treatments had erroded her bowel and her body was falling apart from the inside out. She was quickly failing and no matter the intervention, her blood pressure remained in the toilet and she was requiring a machine to breathe. Her loving family surrounded her bedside. Discussions of surgery danced in the air but it was clear what the outcome would be regardless of the intervention. As I sat down with her family to discuss what would be our recommendations, my heart broke. This patient and I have had a connection because of similiar ages and angsts; but also because of her placement in her family of 8. She is the youngest of the three girls and her family makeup is the same as mine with the oldest a boy followed by three girls and then two younger boys. And now, I was recommending the withdrawl of life support and the addition of morphine to make her comfortable. At the family's request, I was at the bedside as she passed away and for the first time in 17 years, said the rosary.
I went back to the office and put my head down on the desk and cried. And later in the morning when Mike instant messaged me, I told him about my morning. He was good, he didn't ignore the uncomfortableness of the situation. Instead, he asked about my patient and her family and me. When I saw him last night, he said nothing about it but wrapped me in those big arms of his and held me as I became ugly, sniveling, snotty, and blotchy doing the ugly cry...
So it was a no good, very bad day that might have made me move to Australia that turned into a wonderful evening of discovering that this wonderful man is as mad about me as I am about him. And once again, it was 1:30 am as I was heading to bed because neither one of us wanted to acknowledge the time that would make Mike head home. I am exhausted today but for some reason I can't erase this Cheshire Cat grin from my face...