A Baby Is Born, and We Go to the ER

A couple of months ago, we started to notice that Doug's legs were getting swollen again. Last year, his cardiologist had a procedure done on him that we called "draining". He had an infusion of medicine called Lasix, that my mother-in-law said, when she had it done, made her "pee like a racehorse". Well he did. He hadn't realized how heavy his legs were from water retention. When he left the hospital he was 20 pounds lighter.

On this occasion, we had recently made our annual migration north to Capitola-By-The-Sea, to escape the sweltering temps in Palm Springs. Doug was missing his recliner chair elevating his legs and not moving around as much as down South. The cardiologist had given him instructions to increase his daily amount of Lasix and Potassium on his own if the legs started to swell again, causing weight gain, and to go back to the minimal dose when it resolved and he was at his "dry weight".

We tried this tactic for 2 weeks, but didn't see any result. We hadn't really connected with a Northern California Kaiser doc in this area. (North and South Kaiser generally aren't on speaking terms unfortunately). So we thought we'd just drop into the urgent care at the formerly very "hospitable" Scotts Valley Kaiser.

We ate a nice breakfast at home and set out. We "probably" had an unreasonable idea that we could go there, he'd have his infusion, and then we'd drive down to Capitola Village to eat lunch at Zelda's and watch the bulldozers push the sand back to close off the end of Soquel Creek like they do every year to reform the beach into a sandbar along Monterey Bay.

So I wheeled him into reception in his wheelchair. He often comments, "Thanks for pushing me around". When we told the perky receptionist our concerns, she said, "Oh. I'm going to call my nurse to come out here to check you out."

The nurse furrowed her brow and told Doug, "Swollen legs. Hmm. We don't handle that here, and you should also be checked for blood clots". She brought him to the back to check his vitals for good measure. Then she said, "We have a connection with the Watsonville Community Hospital which is pretty close. They'll take good care of you there. Otherwise you'll have to drive to San Jose. I'll call them and they'll be expecting you".

Thankful that we wouldn't have to drive far, we did as we were told, but weren't sure which entrance to go to. A receptionist looked at her computer and told us to drive to the other side of the hospital to the ER. They were expecting us there.

At about 1:30, I took Doug in his wheelchair to the lobby, crowded with mostly Hispanic families mainly expressing symptoms of coughing and sneezing. While checking him in, I noticed a sign that said something about "Don't worry if you aren't a documented citizen, we'll take care of you". It was repeated in Spanish. Then I realized that we were in Watsonville, a great farming town. That's why the probable influx of farmworkers. I informed the receptionist that "Kaiser sent us over. We're expected", hoping that would give me a little clout. I had to move the Prius to the closest parking lot up a hill. When I got back, they had just called him in to check his blood pressure, oxygen, and and temp.

We were returned to the crowded, small waiting room, to wait. My cellphone rang. My son is calling me on FaceTime and I see that my phone is about to die. I can't beleive that I didn't charge it before we came. I answer anyway, since I know that our daughter-in-law may be in labor. "It's a Girl!", he says. "Oh my gosh!", I say, and after that, I have to tell them where we are and that my phone is about to die. "You're Sworn to secrecy", he says. He wants to spread the news himself. "Send pictures!", I replied quickly. "I'll try to figure out how to charge my phone, and call you back! Love you so much!!"

After about a half hour, a kindly looking doctor with white hair and a white coat came out to greet us. "Just wanted you to know that I know you're here", as he looked at and pressed on Doug's swollen legs. "I've ordered some tests, one to rule out blood clots." Doug said, "But you know we've come here for a Lasix infusion, right?" "Sure, and I'll be seeing you after I get all the results." Reassured, sort of, we sat for another hour or so before a lab tech came out to get us for a blood test. When done, we asked if we could sit in the hall, which some patients had already used as overflow. She said, "Sure! They'll find you here for the next test."

Turns out that the door at the end of the hall was left open, giving us fresher air, but Doug complained, teeth chattering, "I haven't been this cold since we lived at Lake Tahoe!" We had both worn shorts, thinking we'd be out at the beach in 79 degree temperature. I went to where we first checked in to ask for a warm blanket for him from the triage nurse.

I decided to run out to the car to check on the existence of jackets and a phone charger. Unbelievably, there were two fleece jackets of Doug's, and I got my hopes up when I found an original cube plug for a cord, but the only phone charger that was plugged into the "cigarette lighter" wasn't able to plug into anything else. It was getting late though, and the only "food" I could find was an open package with seven minty Mentos left. I wasn't sure if Doug should be eating anything before his procedure, and I didn't want to eat in front of him, but I figured that Mentos would do in a pinch, giving our stomaches the promise of more to come.

I donned Doug's grey fleece jacket, feeling warmer already, since I was outside and the sun was starting to get low. I came back in, cloaked him in his jacket and we shared our one Mento each repast. He finally got called in for the ultrasound of his legs. When Lucy, the ultrasound technician called him in, I commented on my big jacket and joked that "we were going steady". (He told me later that

in the past, the ultrasound of his legs may have thrilled him....") .

So here we are back in the hallway. There is a young couple that has been there since before we arrived. The husband holds the tiny baby that reminds me of our new arrival. He walks with the baby, rocks him and feeds him, but his wife is clearly not feeling well. We attempt to talk to them in our broken Spanish, and find out that the baby was born just last week, right here in the ER, and the mom is feeling very sick. They have been waiting a long time. We feel bad.

We're dying to use the phone, but don't want to waste the battery on our favorite Wordle game, so I found a little slip of memo paper that my sister Lorraine had used as a bookmark in the Ivan Doig paperback that she had lent me. It's yellowed and has writing on it from years ago. But we had a pen, so I thought of a five letter word and Doug had to try to guess it within 6 tries. (Trying to keep his mind off of his situation.) I wrote very tiny and we squeezed in about 5 games until we were both weary of it.

Then I read to him from the book, Dancing at the Rascal Fair, since it was about people immigrating to Montana like his grandfather did. I was about to run out of entertainment ideas.

A young woman ran past us from the waiting room with her hand over her mouth, and we hear her gagging in the restroom, right across the hall. She comes back out, but she returns about twenty minutes later to throw up again. We're glad we're not back in that waiting room. We each had another Mento.

Someone else came out to retreive Doug for an EKG, and we wheedled two more warm blankets from her and asked her to check on when we'd see the doctor. A few minutes later, I saw the nurse who had done the triage, Lois, checking on the patients in the hall. I asked her if she knew about the doc, and also if she knew if there was a phone cord around somewhere. She told me she would loan me the one from the nurses station, even though she shouldn't, and then wheeled her portable computer stand over to Doug. She found out that they still needed to know all of his meds, and I brought up the Kaiser website on the last of my phone's battery and she took pictures on her phone and transferred the info to his ER chart. Then, she brought us to a "room" in the ER. We were still in a hall, but Doug got to lie down on a gurney, with his head elevated and lots of pillows and a new warm blanket and a bottle of water. I sat on his wheelchair with a cushion, and found a place to plug in the phone. Things were looking up. We celebrated with another Mento.

I called my son back and found out more of the details of our new baby girl's birth. Doug and I took turns gazing at the sweet photos that Lucas had sent us. I told him I had talked to my sister, but kept my promise to keep my mouth shut, so he said he'd call her himself.

Finally, I spotted the Dr Welby-style doctor passing by and waved him down. He appologized once again that they were so busy, but he said that the good news was that Doug didn't have any blood clots in his legs! "We're glad of that", I said, "but we were told to come here to have a Lasix infusion to try to get rid of the fluid in his legs", I repeated.

"Oh right", he said. "That could be arranged in just about an hour". By now, it was 8:15 pm, and Doug was tired and hungry, and freezing. I was too, but he was becoming cranky. He complained to me that he just wanted to go home, and we should ask if he could come back tomorrow for the procedure. I wasn't sure if that was possible, but got the attention of the doctor once again as he passed by. He said that would probably be okay, but first he had to type up all of his notes. It'd be about 10 minutes.

We decided to take matters into our own hands and be ready to go. I helped Doug back into his wheelchair, and wrapped him all up in his blankies while I sat on his gurney. We felt a breeze. I jumped up to see that now the outside door to this part of the ER was opened and there was some sort of commotion. A man in handcuffs was being led outside the door to sit, but they had left the door open, and cops stood all around him. More and more people were coming in from the original waiting room to be put in rooms, and there we sat.

I took a bite out of the last Mento, and gave the other half to Doug. Then I saw Lois, our original nurse passing by at the end of the ER. I called her name and waved her phone cord at her. She said, "You're still here?" Doug looked miserable and said, "Could you check on my release papers? The doctor said it would be 10 minutes, but it's been an hour!"

"Oh I'll check, but your doctor is old-school. He still dictates his notes, and it takes longer". She came back and said he wasn't done yet, but I'll take your vital signs one more time before you go. (again?)....

At 9:30, Lois came back with Doug's papers, and we told her we'd see her tomorrow to have the infusion. "Gee", she said. "I won't be here, and your doctor doesn't work on Fridays either, All of your tests have been done, so it'll probaby be okay".

When we got home and were finally eating, I looked at his after visit summary, and it didn't say anything about Doug returning for the procedure. "We'll just go early, before anyone else. It'll be fine", he said. I had my doubts. I wasn't looking forward to this.

Next morning though, we examined Doug's legs, and they were looking much better. Surprisingly, when I pressed his ankle, it didn't leave an impression of my finger. "Well, it looks like your increased dosage of Lasix is finally working", I said. Doug agreed. "It would be pretty silly to show up there again, and have them insist on new tests, and have them turn us away".

"Let's go out to breakfast!", we both said at once. So we did.