Firing Andrew

It is a holy and sacred thing to stand helplessly in witness of another’s pain.  To see the evidences of pain on a loved one’s face and to hear it, manifested in groans or even screams when the intolerable is upon him.  That must be how it feels for the husband in a labor room, standing close to his wife while she writhes with the pains of giving birth, in an impossible situation.  He’s wrong if he touches her, wrong if he doesn’t, wrong if he stands too close, wrong if he stands at a distance.  But there is nothing he can do to stop the pain.  He must wait. 

Invisible ice on black asphalt is no respecter of persons, even those who watch carefully for it and try to sidestep it.  It will catch the edge of your shoe and shoot your right leg straight out from under you, flying upward at an unnatural angle.  At least, that’s what it did to my husband.   I wasn’t there, I was on my way to work when I got word to drive instead to the hospital to meet the ambulance that was bringing him in. 

I arrived at the ER around 1:00 p.m., before the ambulance and paced anxiously at the entrance.  I knew it must be bad for Paul not to be able to move under his own power.  It was.  The nurse called me back into ER 19 just at the moment the EMT’s were moving him from their plastic stretcher  onto the ER bed.  I heard him before I saw him, quite uncharacteristically yelling for them to stop.  I stood by, wanting to be close but not wanting to see him endure it.  His boots had been removed, the thoughtful EMT’s placing his wallet, watch and cell phone down in one toe.  His pants were cut and lay in strips around and under him.  On the surface he looked fine, but it was obvious something was very, very wrong.

Pain meds in the ER began to take the edge off, and in between nurse and hospitalist checks we talked about what had happened, what would probably happen and what it might mean for the near future.  Nurse Andrea was a great match for Paul, respecting him but suggesting little things he could do to manage the pain and situate himself.  I made the phone calls and texts and began managing the replies.  Pastor Samuel stopped by and our good friend and boss Bob came to sit with me while we waited for the doctor and to get to a room.

Broken hip.  Femoral neck fracture.  Ball broken off at the top of the thigh bone.  Full replacement.  Titanium.  We were learning a whole new vocabulary.  Paul told the ER doctor to consult with our physician regarding whether to repair or replace, and whatever Frank said is what we would agree to. 

So many emotions in my body, needing to express themselves.  Fear, concern, hope, gratitude for good doctors and health insurance, anxiety, dread, impatience, how to face the unknown.  But it was all covered in prayer, our own prayers and those of the many believers in our lives who love us and who also know the power of praying to our all-powerful God.  This accident was no surprise to Him, and even if we couldn’t know why He allowed it we knew that He would bring us through.

At 5:30 p.m. they began the process of moving us up to room 662.  The plan was for Andrew and Mia to wheel his ER bed up to the room and transfer him to that bed.  Bob and I followed, carrying Paul’s personal items – I let Bob carry the boots with all the valuables in the toe.  Arriving at his room, they positioned the ER bed next to the room bed and told us to wait outside.  I didn’t want to leave the room but figured the nurse knew best.  Bob and I walked out into the hallway and heard the first scream.  “What are they doing to him?” Bob asked.  “I don’t know but I’m going to find out,” I said, walking back into the room. 

I saw Paul, half on a hard stretcher and half on the hospital bed, in agonizing pain and unable to stop the screaming.  Andrew turned to me and said sternly, “I need you to leave the room and close the door behind you.”  I obviously couldn’t help Paul at this point so I did as I was told.  As I closed the door to room 662, the visitor in room 663 closed that door too.  No one wanted to hear those screams of pain.

The combination of Paul taking only ½ doses of morphine in the ER and Nurse Andrew who was determined to do something even it if was wrong caused a serious situation.  After a few minutes we couldn’t stand it and went back into the room.  Paul had convinced them to stop trying to move him, and I made it clear I wasn’t leaving any more.  Andrew and Mia took the ER bed away and Bob prayed while I tried to comfort my husband.  The muscle spasms wouldn’t stop so I went to find another nurse.

By 7 pm shift change things were a tad better.  Our night nurse, Chuck was briefed by Andrew out in the hallway.  I heard Andrew tell him about the screaming that could be heard down the hall and wanted to say Dude, the man is in unbearable pain, give him a break!  but didn’t.   Chuck and Andrew came in to check Paul’s vitals and introduce Chuck.  Paul looked at the men standing at his  bedside.

“Chuck, you’d better do a good job of taking care of me, this other nurse dang near killed me.  Andrew, you’re fired!”   Chuck nodded to Andrew – “I’ve got it from here, thanks” and Andrew left the room.

After feeding Paul bites of fish, rice and broccoli from his supper tray – and learning how to manage his portable urinal – I left for a short trip home to let Duke in for the night and feed him.  It was going to be 18° and he couldn’t sleep outside.  Dang cold and ice.

Back again to the parking garage, through the south entrance and the maze to the north elevators, I settled into the recliner chair by his bed for a night of 30 minute dozes in between nurse checks and husband-tending .  But at least I had full mobility and could toss and turn to try and get comfortable.  Paul could not.  It would be 15 more hours before he would be taken to surgery and exchange this constant excruciating pain for post-surgical anesthetized bliss.