Hurry Up and Wait, Miami Style

Hospitalization in Miami has been somewhat of a new experience for me. First of all, there was the interminable wait in the emergency room of North Shore Medical Center in Miami Shores, where I had been taken on Sunday evening because of atrial fibrillation and an unbelievably high blood pressure reading. Being admitted to the ER at 8 PM, there I sat until 4:30 AM on Monday morning. Part of the problem was that the on-call cardiologist who was contacted for orders on me hung up on the nurse who was taking the orders and refused to call back. After having the ER doc let the on-call know that I was a retired insurance claims manager and could cause a world of problems for him if that's what he wanted. The guy called back shortly thereafter. I was finally wheeled up to my room, a full 8½ hours after being admitted.

After spending two days at North Shore, I had to be transferred to Mercy Hospital in Cocoanut Grove in order for a cardiac catheterization to be done. I was told I would be transported at 7AM on Wednesday morning. The appointed time came and I was up and ready to go. I waited; and I waited; and I waited. I was told there was some problem with the paperwork. Finally, at noon, I left North Shore for the trip down to Mercy, arriving around 12:30. Again, I waited; and I waited; and I waited. After a couple of hours I was told that the cardiologist, who had been ready for me that morning, had to leave for his office appointments and he would not be back until about 5:30 that evening. So, all I could do was wait and wait once again. In the meantime, I sent Pam home with Linda, rather than them having to wait around all afternoon long. I couldn’t go anywhere, because all I had on was the usual hospital gown. Finally, around 5:30 I was wheeled into the cath lab where I was prepped and waited again for the cardiologist. He finally showed and the procedure was done (damnit, I had to have another stent placed, making a total of four stents now). I was wheeled up to my room and was able to get a turkey sandwich and cranberry juice, the first anything I had eaten in the previous 25 hours.

On Friday, Dec 10^th, I was to have a cardioversion, a procedure to correct the atrial fibrillation, wherein they place electrodes on the breast and back and give me a shock to get the heart back into a regular sinus rhythm. I was hoping to have it done in the morning, get back to my room, and then discharged. Again, it was a game of hurry up and wait. All morning long I waited and waited, checking with the nurse a couple of times, but he had no information. Finally, about 2:00 I was taken to another building. Once there, I found out what the problem was—the doctor with whom they had scheduled me was on vacation and I had to be seen by the one covering for him. This doc had been in surgery at another hospital. Unfortunately, he could not do the procedure because, beforehand, they passed some kind of instrument down my throat to get a closer look at the heart, via ultrasound, and found there were some clots n the heart. Not wanting to risk dislodging the clots, the procedure was cancelled until they are completely dissolved thru the use of medications, so I will try again in about 6 to 8 weeks.

The final straw occurred on Saturday when I was cleared by the cardiologist to go home. As I was literally walking through the door to the hallway, the nurse came running up, saying the discharge had been rescinded. I was to be followed up at our friend, Linda’s, by a home health nurse to check the Coumadin level and give me any necessary injection of additional blood thinner. Unfortunately, as the insurance company is not open on Saturdays, he couldn’t get the pre-approval he needed, so it was back to square three for the duration. As I was dressed and no longer being on a monitor, I took the opportunity to take a shower—the first one I had had since last Sunday morning. Fortunately, my Coumadin level was within acceptable range today and I was finally discharged. Now it’s just a case of cooling my jets, decompressing from last week, and heading back home to Bradenton sometime mid-week.

Miami Emergency Room Nightmare

Pam and I drove down to Miami on Thursday, December 2^nd to celebrate our best friend, Linda’s, birthday on Friday. We had a great dinner at our favorite local restaurant, The Village Café, and spent the day Saturday at Aventura Mall. Saturday evening we ate at a local Japanese restaurant on Biscayne Boulevard where I had a delicious terriaki steak. I ate about 2/3 of it and took the rest back to Linda’s to finish up later. Next day I worshiped at the Miami Quaker Meeting, came back to Linda’s where I finished the steak off, and took it easy after a short trip to the local T.J. Maxx’s. When we got back to her place, I started feeling a bit bloated and uncomfortable. We ordered out a pizza and I went out to pick it up, feeling a bit worse. When I returned I decided I didn’t feel like eating, so I went to lie down. My chest was quite uncomfortable when I breathed and I felt like I had just smoked a couple packs of cigarettes. I decided to check my blood pressure and was shocked to find it a whopping 179/107. We decided to call 911 and that’s when the fun began.

The EMTs did an EKG and asked me how long I had had atrial fibrillation. Of course, I never knew I had such a condition. They suggested I go to the hospital, to which I reluctantly agreed—mostly to assuage any concerns Pam had. I was taken to North Shore Medical Center, a community hospital a couple of miles from Linda’s house, arriving at the ER around 8 PM. Of course, I was hooked up to all sorts of machines and another EKG was done. Then I sat (or should I say “laid”) around for what seemed like forever. In the meantime, a lady suffering from dementia was admitted to the next bay to me and every once in a while she’d get of the gurney and start walking around. I had to call the nurses in to get her to lie back down, but it got worse and worse. At one point, after I had been there for a few hours I could hear the nurses say that the doctor who was giving them orders hung up on them and they couldn’t believe it. In the meantime, a cardiac arrest came in and the woman in the next bay was up and wandering all over the place. I was calling for the nurse “stat” but they were too involved with the new case and they couldn’t come. I’m still hanging around, waiting to be moved upstairs. Around 2 AM or so I asked the nurse if she knew when I might be moved upstairs and she told me that the on-call doctor had hung up on them. I was a bit pissed, to say the least, but I just bided my time. Finally, at 2:30 I told the ER doc (a great one, I might add) that he should contact the guy who hung up on them and tell him that I am a retired insurance claims manager and if he wishes, I can make his life as miserable as he wants me to. The guy called back within a half hour.

I finally got out of the ER at 4:30 AM, some 8½ hours after I was admitted. The ER doc told me that they cannot release me to the hospital, proper, until a staff physician accepts me as a patient. So, after 3½ hours of sleep Monday morning, it began a day of lying around, cat napping and waiting to hear something. I now find I will be transferred to Mercy Hospital, which has a large cardiac care program and, if my stents are clear I can be discharged. One can only hope.