I LOATHE Pre-Op Testing!

Emory University Midtown Hospital MUST streamline their pre-op testing! It took 4 hours to take my vitals (twice), get 4 vials of blood, and update my medical history (twice).

My appointment was for 9:10 AM we got there 10 minutes late, which considering what time mom got up and the traffic we encountered was a miracle. I thought I was gonna have to reschedule; but fortunately they were already running late.

Apparently my doctor is very particular. So before going to Pre-Admission Testing on the first floor, I have to go up to her office on the 18th floor. The nurse weighs me, takes my blood pressure, temperature, blood oxygen, and pulse. She then goes over the list of my current medications. Then she takes me down to an exam room at the end of the hall. Where I sit and wait and wait. Finally, a resident comes in, introduces herself reviews my list of current medications, takes a family illness history, and explains the procedure to me. She seems curious and concerned about my thyroid issues. I'll blog about my thyroid nightmare another time. Then I sign a few forms and she gives me paperwork to take downstairs. It is now 10:03 AM

Downstairs they ask the usual questions, like if necessary can we give you a blood transfusion, do you have a living will, would you like a pastor to visit you before surgery. etc., etc. FWIW: I don't have a living will, I am afraid of, but not opposed to blood transfusions. If necessary I expect them to move heaven and earth to save my life. I sign more papers and they send me down to the room at the end of the hall. A room which I have come to hate. It is now 10:25 AM

There is a woman sitting behind the sliding glass window stapling papers. It takes her a full 4 minutes to acknowledge that I am there. I hate that. When a patient comes to the window, she should immediately say, "I'll be with you in a moment." Anywho she needs to make a copy of my insurance card and drivers license, which they just did down the hall, and also upstairs. Then mom and I sit and wait; along with the rest of the wretched, huddling masses, yearning to be free.

At 12:55 PM they finally call my name. I follow a nurse with a Susan Powter haircut into exam room 6. I can tell she is having a bad day, but she is making an effort to be cheerful. So I do the same. She notices I am reading a Janet Evanovich book and we briefly chat about the crazy antics of Stephanie Plum and who should play who in the movie. She weighs me, takes my temperature, blood pressure, blood oxygen, and pulse. Oddly, My blood pressure has increased by about 16 points both systolic and diastolic. Probably because I am now annoyed, tired, hungry, and I have cramps. Plus I am stressing about getting caught in Friday afternoon, Atlanta, rush hour traffic. IMHO, It's as bad as Manhattan & Houston combined, only worse because it's in such a small space. Did I forget to mention I have my period? I'm not supposed to have it right now because they have me on BCP's. Then she takes a complete medical history and asks for any prescription meds and vitamins I might be taking, I give her my list. She is suitably awed and grateful. I have an alphabetized, color co-ordinated list of all my medications, vitamins, and past surgeries. On the back I put all my docs info and the phone and fax numbers to my preferred pharmacy. An anesthesiologist comes in and asks if I have ever had surgery before and if so did I have problems with the anesthesia. I tell her no. Not quite true, but I learned the hard way, that if you tell them that you once had trouble coming out of anesthesia, then they don't give you enough and you feel pain before you leave the hospital, let alone get home. The anesthesiologist takes 4 vials of blood as per my surgeons orders. She then tapes some gauze to my arm and I am sent on my merry way. It is now 1:30 PM, the whole process took about 4 hours.

Just to re-cap, they:
reviewed the surgical procedure I will be having and asked if I had any questions
took 4 vials of blood
weighed me
took a complete medical history
updated the list of my prescription medications and vitamin supplements
took my blood pressure
took my temperature
took my pulse
took my blood oxygen

So now I am all set for my second hysteroscopic myomectomy in 3 months. God willing this will be the last time I have to do this.

Mini-Drama
When the Susan Powter look-a-like was done, I went back to the waiting room and didn't see mom. I thought maybe she went to the cafeteria or the bathroom so I started walking down the hall in that direction. I'm not 10' from the waiting area when I see a woman collapesd on the floor and 3 people standing around her not doing anything. I ask what's wrong and am faced with shrugs. I ask if they called a nurse and they said no. I quickly go back inside and tell them a woman has passed out and needs help. Some idiot clerk says 'on the floor?' I said yeah rather sarcastically. Fortunately someone with a brain heard me and 2 nurses came running to help this poor woman. From what I could hear she was diabetic and had been waiting soooo long in pre-op testing she got woozy. She was on her way to the cafeteria when she passed out. To make matters worse her right foot was in one of those grey plastic surgical boots. I was afraid she had re-injured herself from the fall.

So to make a long story longer, I was not exaggerating. The pre-op testing process at Emory University Midtown Hospital is ridicuously long. Anytime you have people passing out from hunger, the wait is TOO long! They should be ashamed of themselves. I understand that depending on what your surgery is you may need to give a urine sample, have an x-ray, an EKG, and/or an EEG in addition to the things I had done today. Regardless, that should not be a 4 hour process. It just doesn't make sense.

How many responsible adults do you know?

Here's the problem, I have to have another hysteroscopic myomectomy on 8/25/09. Whenever you have a surgical procedure, not matter how minor they say, "Make sure you have a responsible adult who can drive you home." Sadly, I no longer have a responsible adult in my life, whom I can trust to do this. I have no idea how I got to this point in my life.

When I had the hysteroscopic myomectomy in May 2009 my mom drove me to and from the hospital. The problem with this is that the hospital is 46 miles away in Atlanta; and mom hates city driving. Mom is also 79 and has cataracts. Apparently while I was in surgery my mom slipped and fell in the waiting room . . . face first. She ended up with a big goose egg on her forehead and her right eyelid was bruised various shades of black, purple, and blue for about 2 weeks. So there I am in recovery worried sick about my mom and how we are gonna get home. Fortunately she was able to drive us home; but when she stopped at Walmart to get the prescription for my painkillers filled she decided to do some shopping and was annoyed that I didn't then want to go to Target which is another 20 minutes away. "Earth to mom, HELLO MOM! Just had fibroids yanked out of my uterus, I need to lie down and take drugs." She then told me she did not like my disrespectful tone. This is why I no longer feel I can trust her to be my responsible adult, in these situations. I don't mind having her along, but I need someone else to drive me.

Oddly this is not the first time something like this has happend to me. In 2006 when I had the surgery that determined my vulvar cancer was benign, I had my best friend since high school drive me. This woman was valedectorian of her class, a National Merit Scholar, and came in 2nd place on Jeopardy. Yet even though I told her on the way out of the hospital that the anesthesia was wearing off and I was in major pain and just wanted to get my Rx filled and go to sleep. This dear, sweet, otherwise intelligent friend, decided she needed to stop at a Walmart for a freakin' oil change on the way home! She literally dropped me off at the front door and then drove around back, to the auto bays. Fortunately the were all booked up.

I need to make some new friends that live nearby. The kind of friends that can be responsible adults. It's not like I'm an antisocial hermit. Although I have many good friends there are only 4 I would consider responsible adults. Of the four, the one that lives the closest is about 90 miles away and she works as a teacher so it's not like she can just take off work to chauffer me around.

1)How do you define a responsible adult?
2)How many responsible adults do you know?
3)If you had to go to the hospital for surgery, who could you trust to pick you up from the hospital, get your painkiller prescription filled, and take you home?