the knee, part 2

[When we last left our now lame hero, SuperRev, he was given a medication to make him forget... but because of his incredible superpowers, he remembered absolutely everything. "@#$@#!" yelled SuperRev. He didn't really hurt, he just wanted the Evil Dr. Emergency-Room to know that he Evil medicine wasn't working. Now, the saga continues.]

So nurses make or break a hospital. Yea, I guess you need a good doctor, but it's the nurses that make the stay bearable or a living hell. I had 3 great nurses, and one that got her training from Ed Debevic's. She was pretty surly and complained about how understaffed they were and how much she had to do and how she could do what she needed to do if only they had enough staff, but because they didn't "this might hurt." [It did]

But the others were very gentle and compassionate. I remember one saying, "Wow, that must hurt. I know this is hard, but you are doing a great job." A note to any of my readers who may be in the medical field: that thing where people fall in love with their nurses... I can see why that happens. And you know, I'm not sure it's a bad thing. (I say that as a married pastor.) Maybe it's true for women as well, but sickness is very emasculating for guys. You are weak. You are needy. You hate to ask for something but you need it. When someone is proactive and shows compassion and treats you like a human being... it really does stand out and it does have an effect. To be honest, it's very healing. It makes you feel stronger. So all of this is to say, "Thanks to the nurses at Magruder Hospital. You rock."

So the doctor gave me that IV medicine that "would make it so that I would not feel or remember the pain" [ha ha] and set my knee. According to the X Rays I had just dislocated my knee, but he admitted that when he popped it back, it wouldn't stay. So he was about to send me home (on the 4-hour-car-ride) but when he got me up... well... I screamed like a 6-year-old girl.

Upon seeing me scream like a 6-year-old girl, the doctor came to the conclusion that he "might not have completely diagnosed my ailment." He then sent me down for a CT scan only to discover that I "may have done more than simply dislocate my knee." By now it was 11:30 PM and he still was going to just have me drive home then (4 hours) to see my doctor in the morning. After my wife and I begging to be admitted for the night (rather than loading me into the back of the van and having my wife drive through the night), he decided that might be best. (Where do these guys get their training?)

So I slept the hospital, and my wife slept on a couple of chairs in the room. Other than the occasional pain shot and some Morphine to keep me calm, it was a very uneventful several hours of sleep.

To be continued...