At 7:15 a.m., I arrive at the admissions desk. I tell the woman my name and am told to wait. There are several other people in the lobby waiting to be checked it. It appears as though only one employee is working on a computer, going through all the registration forms with patients. Time ticks by. Finally, another worker arrives and calls my name. When the registration forms are complete, I am wheeled back to the lobby and have to wait for transport to take me to day surgery. A short while later, a pleasant young woman arrives to take me upstairs.
When I arrive at the day surgery check-in, I hand in my paperwork from registration. I am told to wait in another waiting room. About five minutes pass. Then, a nurse appears and wheels me back to the interventional radiology holding area. I am placed in cubicle eight. It is 8:15. My procedure is slated for 9 a.m. I reassure myself, there is plenty of time. Respiratory meets me in my cubicle and asks me a number of questions regarding my trach and ventilator. I slip into a hospital gown. I am hooked up to monitors which record my vital signs. I wait for the nurse. At 8:40, my nurse starts an IV and collects blood for some tests. I panic a little. I know it takes about an hour for the lab to result the blood work. I wonder how the results will be known since my procedure is set to begin in less than 20 minutes.
My mom, after she went back to the hotel to drop off the car to avoid paying for parking at the hospital, takes the hotel shuttle to the hospital and meets me in my cubicle. She watches videos while I read my Bible. Time ticks by. At 9:30 a.m., the physician's assistance explains the procedure and has me sign consent forms. A little while later, I overhear the procedures to be performed on patients in cubicle seven and nine. No one seems to be moving in or out of the holding area. Time continues to march on.
At 10:40, I am notified there has been a trauma case which has been occupying the interventional radiology department. A nurse is setting up an alternative room. They hope in an hour they will have everything ready to go for my procedure.
At 11:30, a nurse from interventional radiology comes to take me to a make-shift room. The room, which is called a "multi-purpose room" on the hallway wall, is a tiny room crammed with too many people, tables and equipment. Everything seems to be chaotic. I am prepped for the procedure. My chest is cleaned and draped with sterile clothes. A sterile field is set-up. When the doctor enters the room, I ask her questions about the procedure. There seems to have been a miscommunication. The doctor does not have orders to place a port. She is slated to perform a different procedure. I ask for the surgery to be cancelled and for everything to be clarified with my infectious disease doctor who ordered the port.
The sterile field is destroyed, and I am wheeled back into the holding area at 12:30 p.m. My infectious disease doctor's contact information is looked up. I patiently wait in my cubicle, reading the Bible and catching up on some online Bible study videos. My nurse and respiratory therapist tell me how calm I am and are shocked I am not yelling at them. I am confused. I think to myself, "You are not the ones causing me any harm. Everything is from God. I have no one to be mad at but God...and I am not mad at Him because I know He is directing my path." I thank the two women for their kind words and go back to my studies.
A little after 2 p.m., I am told my infectious disease doctor contacted interventional radiology and pleaded my case for getting a port placed. He then had his office submit new orders for the procedure. The woman next to me has just been wheeled back to have her procedure done. (She has also been waiting all day for her procedure.) When the woman is done, the room will be reset, and I will be next.
At 3:15 p.m., I am wheeled back. This time, I am taken to the regular interventional radiology room, which is HUGE compared to the multipurpose room this morning. I am again prepped for the procedure. The doctor does the surgery, taking her time and giving a very detailed explanation about everything she is doing to a medical student who is watching the procedure. The procedure, which normally takes about 20 minutes, finally ends. At 5:15 p.m., I am rolled back to the holding area. At 6:48 p.m. I am released. I then am escorted downstairs to my mom, who is waiting for me in the car.
As I climb into the car, the respiratory therapist tells me how wonderful of a patient I was. My nurse gives me a hug and tells me she will be praying for me tonight. A few minutes before 7 p.m., my mom and I leave the hospital and head for the hotel.
As we pass through the crowded streets, I am happy about the day's events. Despite the endless delays, I did not allow negative emotions to rule my day. I just passed from roadblock to roadblock with an assurance God was in charge. I thank God for His guidance and for all the speed bumps. I praise God I now have a port. Perhaps soon I will have IV antibiotics and will shortly be on the path to better health.
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