WILD RIDE IN A SPEEDING VAN . KIDNAPPED. UNDISCLOSED LOCATION. BLOOD RITUALS.. AND A MAN WHO IS A PEARL. VITALS....VITALS...
This is a modern tale about how in the twinkling of an eye your existence can change. Then there is the balance of truth and fiction. How do we perceive reality until we enter the spaces created by science. Some of them are magnificent and most of them are called hospitals. I have been missing for a month and some very talented people now possess my ‘Vitals”.
I receive an SOS from a friend who says his wife, a magnificent chanteuse ,is now in Palliative care and the end is closer than expected so it is better if I see her sooner than later. So I dash down the next afternoon. Shockwaves rippling through me as i opt for illegal parking and sprint through the hospital. It is a stunning new Rehab plus Palliative Care facility nestled in a ravine. When i am taken to her room she lies in a bed a shadow of her previous self. There is a knitted cap on her head and I stand close to the bed and say ‘I love You’ in my bravest strongest voice she smiles broadly. I say it again and she smiles again. There is a flurry of nurses around her bed and I withdraw. The next week i feel a little out of sorts. A stomach upset I feel and wonder if I have picked up a seasonal bug or even something in the room where a chanteuse waited for death.
I felt a little breathless and did not complete my workout at the gym. Mainlined some chicken soup but it did not help. The next morning at 10.45 I had a telephone consult with my Family Doctor. I was telling her about my various symptoms when she said
“I don’t like how you are sounding. You are rambling. I am calling an Ambulance and I want you in a hospital now.”
“Please don’t” I say to the best Sherlock Holmes in Family Medical Practise in mid town Toronto. Just because she has an intimate knowledge of me I am still in charge of myself.
“Hold on” she says. and little do I know that autonomy as I know it, has ended.
In just over three minutes three very tall men simply walked into my apartment. rolling in a bed like contraption with wheels. This is what happens when a doctor calls for an ambulance.
“Your Doctor has called and we are to take you to hospital. Can you walk?”
“Of course I can,” I am indignant.
I do a lurch for my handbag in the the kitchen. I have no idea that I am wearing pink leggings and a cropped red light sweater minus any undergarments. I slip on a very gorgeous pair of red leather shoes purchased in Madrid a year ago. They are lying near the front carpet where i had kicked them off the night before. They are easy, no buckles just slip-ons . I do however remember to throw in my IPhone in my handbag forgetting about the charger.
I do not remember the ride in the ambulance or hearing a siren as some sort of tubes were inserted into my nostrils. I was on Oxygen. Now I was Disoriented. It took about 11 minutes to reach the emergency wing of a major hospital and a clump of people surrounded me as the three stalwart tall ‘ handsomes’ wheeled me into a room. Two Physicians materialized plus three nurses.
“We think you have bacterial Pneumonia. We will do your Vitals”
I am instantly taken to have a chest x ray . When i go back to my room I wonder what the lungs are revealing. I am told yes there seems to be a patch on the left lung lower left lobe. I have already imagined every conceivable horror.
Armed with needles, nurses appear seeking my veins. It was like a treasure hunt and painful. The veins hid obviously in the same outrage manifested by me. Then bingo, one was found ,an intravenous tube and two bag affair was inserted in the back of one hand
“It is a powerful antibiotic. It will kill everything. The first bag is the anti biotic and the second bag is a buffer. It is going very slow as we want to protect your kidneys. Your pneumonia is bacterial. Your clothes will be removed and the hospital gown will be easier to manage. “
I am still dealing with the needle in my hand and another one drawing blood for tests. Mysteriously the pink leggings are damp and much to my horror they are just pulled off by a a young man who says. Now all of a sudden, kidneys are in the conversation. ?
“I am your nurse and my name is Paul. You cannot move or walk while this IV is on so I shall make sure you are comfortable and dry. Please turn to your side.”
A contraption of plastic and a soft padding is clamped on to my waist. by Paul who gently rolls me from one side to another. He does this with delicacy, studied precision and discretion and I am now wearing a disposable diaper. I want to die.
“Paul. Please tell the Doctor when this drip is finished I want to go home,” This is delivered in my gritted teeth outraged voice.
Paul checks my oxygen intake on the large monitor near my bed and gives me a serene smile.
“Good. Good. We will give you three litres I think but your levels are stable.”
He has ignored my question.
“Paul. Are you Japanese?” I ask.
“Yes. “ he lowers his face mask, “How could you tell?”
“Your manners are exquisite as is your voice and hands. You are like a Pearl.”
He draws back and his eyes widen.
“Nobody has ever said that to me ever” he seems astounded, “its so poetic”
“Its ok I am an author we tend to get descriptive. “
I did not mention that i wanted to get out of The Emergency Wing of this fabulous hospital and may need a partner in crime . If a compliment won his favour so be it. .”
“Actually I will not be on shift tomorrow you will have a different nurse.”
He just smashes my heart into a million pieces. I feel a wail rising somewhere from the region of my toes all the way up.
“I want to go to the toilet myself. Please take out this IV needle and i shall be back in a minute its just at the end of the hall,” I am using my cool but commanding voice.
“I cannot remove the IV until the bags are finished. I am happy to change the diaper.” he has the most exquisite smile on his face.
“I want to speak to the Admitting doctor. “I am using a trump card I think.
“Of course, she may be doing rounds. “ he glides out of the room.
Two minutes later, two ladies appear. The junior doctor and the big Kahuna.
“ I know you think you need to be home but if you were my mother i would not discharge you today. I am the Specialist of this Emergency wing of the hospital.”
I am floored by her logic, her perky voice and the way her associate defers to her. and the knowledge that she would not clap me irons but simply scare the hell out of me.
“Also you would have to sign a discharge form absolving the hospital of any responsibility once you left.” the big Kahuna said solemnly managing to convey tons of hazard.
I have enough juice in the phone to call My GP whom I adore . She has been monitoring all this from her office and is ready for me.
“Do not push the doctors to discharge you until they decide unilaterally,. You have pneumonia! “she is not cautioning me but giving an outright order.
I remember reading about people dying with pneumonia. So shame facedly I concede defeat. The big Kahuna flashes a cheeky grin which actually means ‘good girl’. All I am feeling is hungry. My light breakfast was hours away and evening has arrived. I ask Paul and he informs me that nothing has been ordered for me but he would try to find something.
He returns with a plastic box which I cannot open. Again, gracefully Paul takes it in his hands and flips the edge and the top springs open. There is a cheese sandwich inside. White bread and a slice of rubbery fake cheddar. I take a bite and spit it out in the kleenex.
“This is horrible.” Made in 1956. Nobody eats like this anymore!” I croak
“It is not the food ordered for you but from the staff emergency snack room.” he looks sad.
My mind is racing turning over possibilities of food deliveries in the emergency department. I could kill for a steak and a Baked potatoe drowning in sour cheese and butter. A martini thrown in for good measure.
“You will get breakfast tomorrow morning” he consoles
“Well I could die of hunger in the night,” I am quite dramatic.
“I wont let you. Lift your arm please let me wind the blood pressure cuff round your arm. So when i come later and you are asleep I can just take it without waking you up. “
Its a private room with a grey curtain with a lacy top. My companion is the large monitor which keeps an eye on my Vitals. I have picked up a new word. ‘Vitals’ . I hate the bed, I convince myself I am cold , I miss my bedroom and feel very sorry for myself. Outside this room there is a steady hum of activity . People being wheeled in. Even police officers with cameras. Then something amazing happens. I fall asleep for three hours.
“Good Morning. How are you. You look wonderful.”
They stand near the curtain a trio of women wearing masks.
“Well. I had not slept the previous night so naturally I conked out, Have we met?” I sit up.
They actually laugh and draw closer.
“We have kept an eye on you” you are doing very well”
“Who are you?”
“ I am the head specialist of Emergency Practise in this hospital wing” says the petite brunette.
“No that’s the other doctor who admitted me yesterday.”
“I am her Boss. Her superior. Its all right.”
“ So can I go home now?”
“Lets get a scan done first” she is all smiles and makes me feel as though we were at school together.
Another nurse brings a plastic box . It contains breakfast. Paul is nowhere around and i struggle with the lid. It is another 1959 version of food. A little tub of cereal, a tiny container of milk, another one of fake orange juice and the piece de resistance is a gooey muffin with two mushed blueberries imbedded, plus an icy cold boiled egg sitting in a plastic pouch. I take out the phone and photograph this. The Prime Minister needs a letter with pictorial evidence. How can a superb institution existing only to restore health then present this sort of food.? I demand a cup of tea? a woman with gorgeous fake eyelashes promises to bring it ,but she is not happy seeing the breakfast box in the trash can. She is Paul’s replacement. I have taken a dislike to her.
I am waiting for the tea when a vision appears at the partition in my curtains. A chubby woman in a black jumpsuit wearing red bootees appears. with hands resting on a snazzy wheelchair.
“Hello” she says in a sparkly voice.
“Have we met ?” I ask
“No. I am your Uber driver to the CT scan .” she gives a little courtesy.
I laugh, “ that’s ok I can walk”.
“Sorry. Rules. Lets get you in,”
So now i am seated in a wheelchair with a totally saggy diaper a mountain of hurt pride not realizing what the Scan room jokers have in store for me.
I am lying on the padded plank positioned under the scan ring which will photograph the delinquent lungs. I am told they will be injecting iodine . They will use the intravenous portal already in the back of my right hand.
“We will inject twice. It will hurt a lot , you may have a strange sensation in your mouth and may even urinate. Then the next one will hurt more than the other.”
The first one made me scream in pain and the second one outright crying with tears rolling down my eyes. The diaper, however remained dry.
When it is over in less than five minutes, I get up and am proud to boast that i walk out of the chamber of horrors to the room outside where the charming Uber driver seats me in the armchair.
With no one to stop me I walk to the toilet . The rest of the details of this endeavour are too silly to mention. I have convinced a passing nurse to find me some hospital pants and she does. So Now i wear the uniform hospital pants and Gown. With my little topper puffy jacket and Spanish shoes i could waltz out of this place.
Then lunch which is a piece of baked fish and rice with an aroma of stale food is presented I do not place this in the garbage I just slide it along the floor so it reaches the wall. Fate conspires with me. The anti-biotic is now given orally and I am informed I will be discharged in a few hours. The discharging Doctor will explain everything. The Vitals are looking good I am informed cryptically.
The petite brunette discharges me with stacks of material i can keep for a record. Then she does something truly un Doctorly. She walks me through the main hospital to the Pharmacy. Marches up her self and gets the prescriptions> Its a course of antibiotics and i must complete them.
“Thank you so much for your courtesy,” I extend a hand.
She gives me a mini hug and whispers.
“Well it not everyday that I have a Canadian author who writes exotic novels in my Emergency “ she waggles her eyebrows.
“How did you know?”
“I just googled you my dear.”
“New book coming out in the Fall. I shall invite you to the launch”
“Of course I shall come.”
It is not a tearful goodbye. Being a solo act with much older pals i just call a taxi. The burly Eth[opian cabdriver with a biblical name which escapes me now treats me as though I am made of porcalien We even make a pitstop at my health food store and pick up a glass jar of Kefir, fresh blueberries and strawberries. Breakfast fodder.
Many of us were devastated by memories of Emergencies of hospitals in Canada
in an overburdened chaos during Covid. That time has gone and I have seen the workings of an Emergency wing of a famous University Health Network Hospital and realized that it is a life privilege to have 4 doctors and about 8 nurses give me superb medical care. There are voices of outrage and whines about how bad our Health care is in Canada. Somebody needs to muzzle them and I hope this article does. Yes, a plug for Canada’s superb National Health Plan and gratitude plus thank you for four weeks later having kicked the pneumonia out of the lungs and doing a full one hour workout at my gym. I hope Hanif Qureshi is reading this and having a chuckle.
Operative thought here is know, not thyself, but thy Vitals.