Emergency Room Deadline Reality
I woke up in an emergency room at the local hospital facing what may be the last real deadline of my career. I was so dehydrated they couldn’t find a vein for an IV needle. This wasn’t a surprise to me; I hadn’t eaten or had much to drink for the past three days. Why? Simple enough: I was in too much pain to do anything but sit in my power recliner, listening to the radio. That’s the one I sleep in on nights when I actually get some shut-eye.
The medical staff immediately hooked me up to multiple IV bags. My doctor’s office hadn’t believed me before, but now it was clear just how much constant pain I was in and how much fluid I needed. They gave me two two-liter “bolus” bags—meaning they were administered as fast as possible. Before I left, I had received more than 12 liters of fluid. It was a massive amount, but it showed how concerned the ER doctors were.
The staff checked on me every half hour, and they kept a heart monitor on me that they could watch from the nurses’ station. They were clearly frightened by my appearance and test results.
Doctors Out of Options
In my case, the bags were just sterile water with some minerals, but they were the massive two-liter bags, not the normal one-liter ones. I received six of them before I was discharged. I already knew they couldn’t do anything real for me in the realm of surgery or other treatment, so this was their only course of action.
At first, the doctor told me I had to sign my DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) document again in his presence. That was fine with me, but he also wanted me to sign an AMA (Against Medical Advice) waiver to leave.
However, while the nurse was confirming everything in my old records, the doctor read all my chart data. He then just discharged me without any paperwork needed.
“Bye, bye.”
They truly couldn’t do anything for me beyond the saline bags. As I prepare to return home, I don’t even realize that hospice care marks not just a medical step but the final deadline I will ever face.
A Difficult Discharge
Then the “fun” started. They were happy to let me stay in that room for hours, but the hospital has no staff who will drive a discharged person home. I have a nice Mercedes diesel 4×4, but my partner is over 80 and has a bad heart. She stopped driving years ago after losing vision in her left, or “sinister,” side. I have friends who would happily drive me home, but they all have jobs and couldn’t help until the evening.
The Road Home
Fortunately, my partner found one of my friends who was self-employed and not at work that day. She picked me up in a monster GMC SUV, which was apparently filled with teenage girls all headed to her daughter’s farm. Oh well. At least my friend drove me home, and the girls held off on any comments or jokes about me until I was safely back at my house.
To Be Continued, Next Chapter: Home Hospice Care
Editor’s Note: John is writing this, with some AI assistance in editing/spelling and pictures.
