The Plague.
So, I was going to write about the fast times I had in New York, but I feel that it's much more important to write about this festering abscess on my leg. The weekend tales will come later.
Okay, to be fair, it's not really a festering abscess. Not yet, at least. But, what it was was this slowly-growing fluid filled sac on the back of my ankle. Crankypants thought it was an extremely allergic reaction to a spiderbite. I've gotten spiderbites before, and none of them became this edemic sac. Me, I thought it was the plague. You know, spread by those nasty New York rats.
It didn't help talking to my parents, who are both doctors. My father is a particularly raging hypochondriac (see, it might be genetic after all!), and likes to prescribe me every sort of antibiotic under the sun. You know, kill every last living germ in your body, and then some. But when my mother, who is usually very prudent with prescription drugs, actually agreed with my father, saying something about possibly contracting osteomyelitis, I knew that my own hypochondria was well-confirmed. Crankypants just rolled his eyes and told me that my taking cipro would mean I'd have three-headed babies.
My friend Kate and I went to the ER yesterday to have the plague checked out. It would probably be best to attempt to recall the later running monologue/dialogue Kate had in the car after 4-and-a-half hours in the waiting room.
Scene: It is 3 years from now, and Kate is a malpractice lawyer. This is her first case.
Kate the lawyer: I'd like to call the first witness to the stand. Kate? Why don't you tell me what happened that night in the ER.
Kate the witness*: Well, first of all the ugly-ass troll PA (physician's assistant) didn't even introduce herself, nor did she allow the patient to describe her problem. Instead, she seemed to instantly mentally label the patient a shallow frivolous 20-something and treated her as such for the entirety of the patient's stay in the ER. I don't think she even read the notes that the nurse had taken in triage, because she asked the patient how she had hurt her foot. The patient replied that it wasn't her foot, per se, but rather there was this monstrous grossness on the back of her ankle. The words "monstrous grossness" are my own, of course. The patient used some technical medical term I don't even recall.
Kate the lawyer: What did the defendant then say?
Kate the witness: She said, "You must have been wearing heels." To this, the patient said that she had actually been wearing flip-flops for most of the weekend, and anyway, that the backs of her shoes didn't come up that high. When the ugly-ass troll said that maybe her pants had been rubbing against her leg, the patient said that she had been wearing skirts the entire weekend.
Kate the lawyer: What happened then?
Kate the witness: The ugly-ass troll then asked the patient how many times she had experienced such a "blister." When the patient said that she had never received this before, and that it kept growing, the ugly-ass troll seemingly ignored the patient's words, told the patient to sit on the bed, where she proceeded to drain the so-called "blister" not into a cup, but onto the sheets of the bed. She also did not irrigate the wound after this draining.
Kate the lawyer: So there seems to be an egregious lack of sterility.
Kate the witness: Hell yeah. On top of that, the fat assistant rummaged around in the dirty germ-infested drawers of the ER, and then dressed the patient's wound after rubbing her unwashed hands all over the formerly sterile gauze, before applying it to the patient's now-open wound. Why didn't she just lick the gauze too? Now, since I'm all sorts of psychic, I could have told you that this was a bad idea. I think that I could have treated the patient in the cleaner atmosphere of my bathroom.
Kate the lawyer: What else can your psychic abilities tell you?
The defense: Objection! This has no relevance to the case.
Judge: Objection sustained. Please stick to the topic, counselor.
Kate the lawyer: Yes, Your Honor. I just wanted to know if my dating life was going to perk up in the near future. Anyways, Kate, what happened next?
Kate the witness: Well, as you can obviously see - and the reason for this malpractice suit - the poor patient's foot subsequently turned purple and fell off, so she can't wear her favourite shoes anymore. Not to mention, this means that she can no longer walk her precious Maltese, Pookie. So on top of this horrible medical care, I think that the defendent should also be charged with pet neglect!
Kate the lawyer: Please stick to the charges, Kate. Is there anything else you'd like to add to your testimony?
Kate the witness: Oh yes, after the ugly-ass troll drained the "blister", she then proceeded to only remove half of the skin that previously covered the site of infection. She said that the rest would just, and I quote, "fall off in the shower." Now, I've had my share of blisters. First of all, to get something that big would require one to wear that particular painful pair of shoes for over four days, which is just impossible. The thing was gigantic - about two inches across and one inch high, not to mention that it protruded for at least half an inch. And the skin, after popping the blister, doesn't just fall off. You have to painfully peel it off. I'm sure you'll agree with me when I say that again was shoddy health care.
Kate the lawyer: Well, that's for the jury to decide. Is there anything else?
Kate the witness: No, that's it. And as for your dating life, soon you're going to meet and fall in love with another high-powered lawyer, whom you will initially hate but accidentally marry in Ireland -
Kate the lawyer: Isn't that a movie?
Kate the witness: Oh yeah, I tend to get my visions and movies I've seen confused.
Judge: That is quite enough. Please call your next witness to the stand, Counselor.
*Yes, Kate the lawyer and Kate the witness are the same person. Poor Kate only got 3 hours of sleep the night before last.
So in short, that's my visit to the ER. While I grudgingly admit that it may not be the plague, I feel that it's more than just a blister, given the fact that 1) it itched, 2) it wasn't caused by shoe/clothing friction; and 3) it kept growing. But I guess that we shall see. But let's not forget the fact that I now have an open wound on the back of my ankle, that is probably full of new fat assistant/ER germs. Also, I took a year of medical interviewing and a semester of physical diagnosis. I know that the first thing you do is let the patient describe his/her problem before you make rash assumptions. At the very least, I know that I have a case for extremely poor medical care.
Addendum, 11h59
I remembered that I have a digital camera, so I have taken pictures of the plague to send to my mother, so she can see what a rough-shod job the ugly-ass troll PA did on my festering abscess. I only wish I had taken before-shots, too. I was going to post the pictures as well, but didn't want people losing their meals over it. Because it's really ugly. However, if you would like me to send them to you, so you can see how I'm so not exaggerating... ew, you're a sick person.
Okay, to be fair, it's not really a festering abscess. Not yet, at least. But, what it was was this slowly-growing fluid filled sac on the back of my ankle. Crankypants thought it was an extremely allergic reaction to a spiderbite. I've gotten spiderbites before, and none of them became this edemic sac. Me, I thought it was the plague. You know, spread by those nasty New York rats.
It didn't help talking to my parents, who are both doctors. My father is a particularly raging hypochondriac (see, it might be genetic after all!), and likes to prescribe me every sort of antibiotic under the sun. You know, kill every last living germ in your body, and then some. But when my mother, who is usually very prudent with prescription drugs, actually agreed with my father, saying something about possibly contracting osteomyelitis, I knew that my own hypochondria was well-confirmed. Crankypants just rolled his eyes and told me that my taking cipro would mean I'd have three-headed babies.
My friend Kate and I went to the ER yesterday to have the plague checked out. It would probably be best to attempt to recall the later running monologue/dialogue Kate had in the car after 4-and-a-half hours in the waiting room.
Scene: It is 3 years from now, and Kate is a malpractice lawyer. This is her first case.
Kate the lawyer: I'd like to call the first witness to the stand. Kate? Why don't you tell me what happened that night in the ER.
Kate the witness*: Well, first of all the ugly-ass troll PA (physician's assistant) didn't even introduce herself, nor did she allow the patient to describe her problem. Instead, she seemed to instantly mentally label the patient a shallow frivolous 20-something and treated her as such for the entirety of the patient's stay in the ER. I don't think she even read the notes that the nurse had taken in triage, because she asked the patient how she had hurt her foot. The patient replied that it wasn't her foot, per se, but rather there was this monstrous grossness on the back of her ankle. The words "monstrous grossness" are my own, of course. The patient used some technical medical term I don't even recall.
Kate the lawyer: What did the defendant then say?
Kate the witness: She said, "You must have been wearing heels." To this, the patient said that she had actually been wearing flip-flops for most of the weekend, and anyway, that the backs of her shoes didn't come up that high. When the ugly-ass troll said that maybe her pants had been rubbing against her leg, the patient said that she had been wearing skirts the entire weekend.
Kate the lawyer: What happened then?
Kate the witness: The ugly-ass troll then asked the patient how many times she had experienced such a "blister." When the patient said that she had never received this before, and that it kept growing, the ugly-ass troll seemingly ignored the patient's words, told the patient to sit on the bed, where she proceeded to drain the so-called "blister" not into a cup, but onto the sheets of the bed. She also did not irrigate the wound after this draining.
Kate the lawyer: So there seems to be an egregious lack of sterility.
Kate the witness: Hell yeah. On top of that, the fat assistant rummaged around in the dirty germ-infested drawers of the ER, and then dressed the patient's wound after rubbing her unwashed hands all over the formerly sterile gauze, before applying it to the patient's now-open wound. Why didn't she just lick the gauze too? Now, since I'm all sorts of psychic, I could have told you that this was a bad idea. I think that I could have treated the patient in the cleaner atmosphere of my bathroom.
Kate the lawyer: What else can your psychic abilities tell you?
The defense: Objection! This has no relevance to the case.
Judge: Objection sustained. Please stick to the topic, counselor.
Kate the lawyer: Yes, Your Honor. I just wanted to know if my dating life was going to perk up in the near future. Anyways, Kate, what happened next?
Kate the witness: Well, as you can obviously see - and the reason for this malpractice suit - the poor patient's foot subsequently turned purple and fell off, so she can't wear her favourite shoes anymore. Not to mention, this means that she can no longer walk her precious Maltese, Pookie. So on top of this horrible medical care, I think that the defendent should also be charged with pet neglect!
Kate the lawyer: Please stick to the charges, Kate. Is there anything else you'd like to add to your testimony?
Kate the witness: Oh yes, after the ugly-ass troll drained the "blister", she then proceeded to only remove half of the skin that previously covered the site of infection. She said that the rest would just, and I quote, "fall off in the shower." Now, I've had my share of blisters. First of all, to get something that big would require one to wear that particular painful pair of shoes for over four days, which is just impossible. The thing was gigantic - about two inches across and one inch high, not to mention that it protruded for at least half an inch. And the skin, after popping the blister, doesn't just fall off. You have to painfully peel it off. I'm sure you'll agree with me when I say that again was shoddy health care.
Kate the lawyer: Well, that's for the jury to decide. Is there anything else?
Kate the witness: No, that's it. And as for your dating life, soon you're going to meet and fall in love with another high-powered lawyer, whom you will initially hate but accidentally marry in Ireland -
Kate the lawyer: Isn't that a movie?
Kate the witness: Oh yeah, I tend to get my visions and movies I've seen confused.
Judge: That is quite enough. Please call your next witness to the stand, Counselor.
*Yes, Kate the lawyer and Kate the witness are the same person. Poor Kate only got 3 hours of sleep the night before last.
So in short, that's my visit to the ER. While I grudgingly admit that it may not be the plague, I feel that it's more than just a blister, given the fact that 1) it itched, 2) it wasn't caused by shoe/clothing friction; and 3) it kept growing. But I guess that we shall see. But let's not forget the fact that I now have an open wound on the back of my ankle, that is probably full of new fat assistant/ER germs. Also, I took a year of medical interviewing and a semester of physical diagnosis. I know that the first thing you do is let the patient describe his/her problem before you make rash assumptions. At the very least, I know that I have a case for extremely poor medical care.
Addendum, 11h59
I remembered that I have a digital camera, so I have taken pictures of the plague to send to my mother, so she can see what a rough-shod job the ugly-ass troll PA did on my festering abscess. I only wish I had taken before-shots, too. I was going to post the pictures as well, but didn't want people losing their meals over it. Because it's really ugly. However, if you would like me to send them to you, so you can see how I'm so not exaggerating... ew, you're a sick person.
posted at 08:42
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