Monday, July 04, 2011

mr. crackheads lucky day

This is the kind of completely ridiculous shit that goes on in an ER:

Crackhead/alcoholic man presents saying that he was assaulted. Moaning and groaning and writhing and carrying on as crackheads/alcoholics are want to do. Out partying with the cocaine and jack daniels and, lo and behold, one of his companions became "peeved" and threw said crackheadee to the ground, prompting a visit to the ER.

ER doc orders ativan and toradol PRONTO! You betcha, ifitdle shut this upstanding citizen up, I'm down. Course it doesn't. Urine tox comes back positive for guess what: COCAINENA Morphine and benadryl (crackhead be itchin') PRONTO! exclaims ER doc...Okay let me get this straight - we got us some crack, alcohol, toradol, ativan and now benadryl and morphine...Oh did I mention that Mr. Crackhead went home with a Vicodin script? Why the hell not? Lets add another 15 Vicodin to the mix!

Well at least mr. crackheads humiliated family who took him home won't have to deal with him for the next few hours as he sleeps off all of this shit.

Exit stage right: Rocket scientist ER doc


Jess said...

Xanax and Methadone would have been a good addition. Good stuff and guaranteed to keep them coming back for more "help".

I get a warm and fuzzy feeling knowing I'll work a few extra minutes today to guarantee top notch health care for this citizen of the year.

ERP said...

Wtf? You and nurse K seem to have the worst ER docs on the planet.

newnurseinthehood said...

That's pretty half assed. He needs to go all the way and prescribe some MJ juice.

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Anonymous said...

The hospital where my aunt works has gone with a no narc prescription policy. She's in psych, but she says that her ED nurse friends say that this policy has cut way down on the narc seeking bullshit.

I'm on enough narcs to kill an elephant because my biological mother was too stupid to realize she was pregnant, took some of her mom's DES (a nurse with breast cancer that should have known better) and gave me up for adoption. The DES has caused a laundry list of serious health conditions. I tried EVERYTHING before going on the narcs, but nothing else was cutting down the chronic pancreatitis and non-alcoholic cirrhosis enough for me to keep any food down--I live on vanilla Ensure shakes. I also was recently diagnosed with a demyelinating MS type disease that is getting so bad that it's affecting my balance and vision.

I did everything right--didn't do drugs, ate healthy, battled my genes to stay at a healthy weight, went to school, planned a great life and then blammo. Couch city.

I have to go to the ED a couple times a year when I can't keep food down and am dehydrated because I can't even drink water without feeling like I did when my gallbladder got inflamed and died (requiring emergency surgery 2 weeks before the end of my art school semester). I have a pain specialist that helps me manage my pain as much as possible so I can stay away from the hospital. I also have a pain contract, which I follow, only accepting pain prescriptions from my pain doctor.

It still amazes me how often ED doctors want to write me an extra script for pain meds. They mean well, since the extra pain does mean I have to change my dosage--with doctor approval and I have a genuine need for the meds.

So when I refuse the script for Percocet or Oxy, the nurses look at me like I just turned down a free winning powerball lottery ticket.

I'm just amazed that I seem to be the only one that is able to manage my health treatment and medications. My doctors tell me I'm a medical zebra--I didn't realize that being competent (even with brain damage from a stroke and MS) in taking care of myself made me a double zebra.

*I agree that frequent fibromyalgians, migraineurs, and backpain acrobatics must be mentally ill to invent reasons to want a second home at the hospital.

WHY would anyone who wasn't facing life threatening illness or injury willing go to a building that has more exotic bacteria and organisms per square foot than Africa? If you don't catch MRSA or flesh eating bacteria, you're still at risk of medical mistakes... with all the paperwork and quadruple checks on *everything*, doctors and nurses are so filled with information useless to anyone except the government, it's easy to forget what's really important--like my anaphylactic reaction to valium. I get that the nurse was sick of every sickbed monday morning "doctors" questioning her every move, but I'm not taking that pill without you telling me what it is. --If I had just taken it without question, there would have been a huge ER mess treating my allergic reaction to the valium meant for the patient in bed 12, not 21. It's impossible to actually sleep in the hospital, and statistics say that the longer your stay, no matter the reason for your admission, the higher your risk of severe complications...

So I only darken the doors when I need inpatient care to stay alive. I have no idea why I'm still alive as it is. I have more lives than a cat. (I have a wonderful husband and a few good friends, so I want to stick around at least to see 40--I'm 37 next month and am on year 8 of severe chronic pancreatitis.)