DEAD MAN WALKING

Sunday, November 1, 2015 I woke up after nursing what had been diagnosed as a torn meniscus. This had been diagnosed by an internal medicine doctor who heard me say OW when she felt my sore knee two days prior. I had spent the time since then doing RICE (Rest, Ice, Compression, and Elevation). I would much rather have spent my Saturday working my usual shift at the Mesa Temple, but lying around all day watching college football wasn't too bad.


Anyway, besides the sore knee, I woke up with other things bothering my old body. I was nauseated and my right arm and hand were all tingley/numb. I went to church but came home after sacrament meeting and took a nap. When Babs came home I was still all pukey so I convinced her to take me to Urgent Care.


The doc there suspected a mini-stroke or something worse so eight EMT folks suddenly showed up, attached wires and each asked me the same questions & compared notes to see if I answered them correctly. Evidently I didn't because they next wanted to give me a not so free ride to the emergency room "just to be sure." I signed papers absolving them of any fault so Babs could drive me.


She dropped me off at the TMC (Tucson Medical Center) emergency room and went to park the car. I walked up to the desk and stated my purpose for being there. The guy said, "You're a neuro red." Before I could reply that I was no communist but a rather patriotic American and took offense at his suggesting otherwise, I had been wheeled to a room and was on a bed wearing one of those spiffy backless evening gowns with a multitude of wires/tubes attached to various and sundry parts of my body. Babs still hadn't finished parking the car.


Still suspecting a mini-stroke or some such evil and needing a new wing added to their complex, they had me get a cat-scan, which was negative (I don't even own a cat). They then wanted an MRI done and to "observe" me overnight.


While waiting for the MRI, the tech asked me what kind of music I wanted to listen to while the machine makes its concrete-mixer sounds. I was quite pleased when he said that, yes indeed, he had Tony Bennett. I could even here his (Tony Bennett's) dulcet tones coming from the MRI room.


A few minutes later the tech returned and said he was having trouble loading my electronic chart and it would be a couple of minutes.  FORTY-FIVE minutes later he returned and said he'd have to take me back to the ER because the chart still wouldn't load.


After being back in the ER room for a bit, the nurse came in and said, "Mr. Howe, the computer thinks you're dead."  I felt my jugular, found a pulse, pointed to it, and told him, "I don't think so."


"Well, said he, "The computer thinks you are so you can't get an MRI, because you're dead. We can't get you a bed, because you're dead. We can't order food for you...because you're dead.


I saw no white light, no dead loved one dressed in white. Heck, I didn't even get to collect my life insurance.  It took FOUR hours and three technician to figure out where the "undo" button was located. Fortunately the ER nurse took pity on me and the fact that my blood sugar was down to 65 so he scrounged up a turkey sandwich and apple sauce for me to keep the computer from being right.


It seems that the guy in the room next to me had died and someone put his information on my chart. My age had become "Deceased."


By the time I became undead the MRI guy was long gone so they scheduled the MRI for first thing the next morning. Evidently their idea of first thing in the morning wasn't even close to mine. At 10:00 the next morning I still hadn't had that MRI even though each of the 27 doctors I'd seen said He'd expedite it.


Babs had figured out what was wrong with me early on in this adventure. Since I had been lying around for the previous two day and had not been drinking my usual rain barrel of diet soda, I was most certainly dehydrated. Perhaps I should have had that bottle of Gatorade and waited for a while before going to Urgent Care. She was kind enough to only remind me of that 167 times.


Finally, a nurse came in and said they'd decided I could do the MRI as an outpatient so I was being released. Hallelujah Brother!


I never did get the MRI.