Hospitals are not Bed and Breakfasts

So late last night after studying statistics for a few hours at a local coffee shop, my chest began to hurt. It was a long sharp pain that worsened when i breathed. Thus, I was having a very difficult time breathing. I have felt this pain before and usually it doesn't last long and goes away with basic pain meds, but last night was different. The pain was agonizing, worse than I have ever felt before. I was scared to think that I, a twenty-year-old might be having a heart attack. My girlfriend (the sweetest girl ever, as decided by my previous post) took me to St. Mary's hospital. I did not want to go. My mom tried to convince us to call an ambulance, but I know what goes on in those torture vehicles (I promise I'm no conspiracy theorist, just scared of needles and other things. Plus the ambulance people are usually tough men without much sympathy and stick you good and hard. The nurses at the hospital are sweet and call you baby and honey and tell you what a good job you're doing breathing as they load an I/V into your arm). So she drove me to the ER. Throughout the course of the night about 5 different medical personnel asked me the same questions 1) what brings you here tonight, 2) can you describe your pain 3) how long has it been hurting 4) all sorts of medical questions...

Molly says "you would think they would communicate better so that they didn't all have to ask you the same questions." I believed that they do that to rule out lying and hypochondria, i.e. to see if I stick with the same story or if I'm trying to manipulate them into giving me drugs.

Well, props to Nurse Nina who took my blood without me even knowing it, and put me on oxygen. She was very sweet, but unfortunately her shift ended at 1 am, so Thomas, also a cool dude, filled in. He was the one who gave me the pain meds, so I liked him. Jim, a nigerian man, took my x-rays. Kathy asked all of the important registration information like insurance, religious preferences... let me just say that that freaked me out because I am openly a Christian, but i thought she was implying that I was going to need someone to make final peace with. I said my Pastor's name is David Wood. She didn't really care. It was just a simple question... My Dad showed up to take care of me and all the insurance stuff. He drove an hour without any idea where this hospital was. I believe the Holy Spirit led him once he got to athens. Once he got there I gave Molly the chance to leave and go to bed since we both had class to go to this morning, but she didn't. She stayed the whole time. Aunt Les, she is a keeper! Dr. Berman was a short creepy kind of man. He scared me. He also didn't seem to be much help in fixing the problem, just ordering me meds for the moment. He was nice though.

After so long they came back and told me what they thought was going on. The EKG did not show anything abnormal so it was not a heart attack (Praise God!). [BTW, EKG stands for -electrocardiogram. Why they have a 'K' and not a 'C'? Dont ask me! They're the professionals] My breathe rate was very fast as my breathing was quick and shallow and my heart rate was up. So what's wrong with me? We all were in suspense and wanted know. Dad joked about it being gas. Ha Ha. No. Apparently, there is some inflammation that is making my organs and my ribs push together causing all of that pain. They prescribed me some anti-inflammatory drugs and sent me home. Now we wait... I have not gotten the drugs yet, so I am still in pain, though no where near as bad as last night.