My first granddaughter owes her existence not least to the idiocy of her grandparents who failed to tell their daughter properly that the medication she had to take to suppress (read: reduce the frequency of) epileptic seizures interfered with the [birth control] pill.

Her grandmother couldn’t (and still can’t) cope with the illness, and her grandfather (me) was too embarrassed to talk to his daughter about sex and contraception.

Our venue is rented each year by the local Kidney Association to put on a show by a very talented local Elvis impersonator. It is always a hit, and you would be amazed at how excited some of the grandmas — and even great-grandmas — get at the thought of it. You would think the King himself was going to be on our stage.

I was working in the box office the afternoon before last year’s show when an elderly woman and her daughter came in to purchase tickets to both the show and the meet-and-greet beforehand. After they received their tickets and turned away from my window, the mother somehow got tripped up by her cane and took a tumble into one of the retractable stanchions by the door.

I looked out to see my manager at their side with the first aid kit. I called for an ambulance while she kept the mother calm and applied a bandage to a small wound on her temple (caused by the edge of her glasses). While I spoke to emergency services, my boss tried to make her comfortable on the floor of our lobby.

While all of this was happening front-of-house, the band had been on stage setting up for that night’s performance. It turned out that someone must have run down and let “Elvis” know that he had a fan down in the lobby; the next thing we knew, the man himself had left the stage and was sitting on the lobby floor. He sat by the mom’s side, holding her hand in his, and making jokes about her going to such lengths to meet him one-on-one. Soon, she was smiling and laughing, their undignified position on the floor completely forgotten.

When the EMTs arrived, I went out to meet them, but I had to warn them:

Me: “I’m not sure how much help you’ll be now. I think Elvis has already saved the day as far as the patient is concerned.”

They checked her over, and other than a couple of bruises and the cut from her glasses, the mom was fine. She absolutely refused to be taken anywhere for further treatment, declaring that having met “that nice young man”, she certainly wasn’t going to miss the meet-and-greet or the show. She had a fabulous time, and she got special attention from “Elvis” during both, which made her glow.

The Kidney Association continues to do its annual fundraiser with us, and our impersonator friend even flew in for the show this year, taking a couple of days off from a months-long booking in Hawaii to keep his yearly date with our local grandmas. That is one artist who is not willing to let his fans down.

CONTENT WARNING: Severe Injury (Foot meets lawn mower)
 

In early June of 2022, I ended up having a small accident while mowing the lawn at work. I slipped while mowing a hilly portion of the lawn, and my left foot went under the mower.

The damage was fortunately limited to my big toe, but I was in sufficient pain and shock that I was conscious throughout the entire process of being transported to the hospital by ambulance, getting multiple X-rays, and having the toe reattached. (Honestly, the charley horse I got during the X-ray was where the most pain came from!) 

When I called my father to arrange a ride back home, all I got was this response:

Father: “Sure, I’ll send you a toe truck!”

I suspect that I will be dealing with these jokes for the rest of my life.

I wasn’t personally there for this event, but it was the gossip of the hospital where I work. A woman needed an MRI, and a coworker was helping her.

Coworker: “Do you have any metal on you?”

Patient: “No.”

Coworker: “Do you have any weapons on you?”

Patient: “No.”

She entered the MRI chamber.

It turned out that she had a pistol hidden in her pants pocket. The MRI’s magnetic field pulled on the pistol, causing it to jerk and fire. The bullet grazed her buttock.

Her excuses? “I’ve got the right to remain armed,” and, “When you asked me if I had any weapons, I thought you were only talking about knives and swords and things. I have the right to a gun.”

We had to shut down the MRI for a while to assess the damage, and legal is trying to decide whether we’d even be able to recover enough damages from her to sue her over it. She doesn’t seem to have a lot of assets.

I had a wisdom tooth taken out on a Friday. On Saturday, I had trouble opening my mouth, and the pain was getting worse. At the time, I thought it wasn’t that bad; surely it wasn’t unusual to have pain after removing a tooth. During the evening, I couldn’t eat, I could barely drink, and all I wanted was to go to bed and sleep as I waited for it to get better.

Come Sunday, I woke up with a large swelling under my chin, pushing in toward my throat as I lay down. I had difficulties swallowing my saliva, which disturbed my breathing. After some quick Googling, I knew I was supposed to contact my dentist, but they weren’t open on Sundays. I then searched for dentists to contact for an emergency; all of them were only open on weekdays.

The next step was to call a healthcare clinic that was open evenings and weekends. I explained my situation to the receptionist.

Receptionist: “You know, you are supposed to go to a dentist.”

Me: “Yes, but they are closed today.”

Receptionist: “There are emergency dentists.”

Me: “Yes, well, where do I find those? Because all emergency times I found for dentists were on weekdays.”

I heard the receptionist tapping away on her computer.

Receptionist: “I suppose I’ll have to book a time for you here.”

After that, the conversation went as normal and I got a time not too far away.

When I met the doctor, I could see her shock as she saw my swelling. After questioning, she said she’d call a specialist for advice, so I went to wait. When she called me back in, she had good news! At least, so she said. It is common to be swollen after removing a wisdom tooth. They decided to give me some antibiotics just to be safe and said to visit my dentist during the week if it didn’t get better.

Me: “Can I get anything for the pain?”

Doctor: “No, I’m sorry, the regular painkillers you are already using are all you can get. The only thing stronger I could give you is morphine, and it wouldn’t work for this kind of pain.”

I felt tears streaming down my cheeks at that point, as I didn’t know how I’d survive another day with this.

Doctor: *Looking sympathetic* “It will get better soon. This is the worst part.”

I couldn’t handle it, though. My husband had to wake me up if I rolled onto my back as the swelling otherwise hindered my breath, and I never slept more than half an hour before I was awoken by the pain, having to let saliva drip out of my mouth (I couldn’t swallow or spit properly) to clear the way for air, or just because of coughing, as if the rest wasn’t enough.

So, I got up in the middle of the night, called the national number for medical advice, and waited for my turn.

Medical Advisor: “Hello. How can I help you?”

I recapped the whole situation.

Me: “…I don’t know if I can do this anymore. It hurts.”

I was crying my eyes out at that point.

Medical Advisor: “I see, but you met a doctor today, and I know you have no issues breathing. You can say several words to me without pause. You can probably go and see your dentist tomorrow; it isn’t many hours left, after all. Take some painkillers. There are fluid versions.”

Me: “I only have pills, and I’ve taken those already.”

Medical Advisor: “So, you can swallow pills.”

Me: “I have to. I have medicine I cannot miss.”

Medical Advisor: “It sounds like you are going to be fine. Just try and get some sleep.”

I stayed up and got an emergency time for my dentist’s clinic in the morning. I did not meet my own dentist but a coworker of his. She could see that I had a very hard time, and she had to take some pictures. You know those pictures and X-rays they take at the dentist? You have to get this thing into your mouth which cuts into the top and bottom of your mouth. In normal cases, they are uncomfortable. At that time, they were torture.

The dentist took the smallest ones she could find, and as I was unable to open my mouth much, she had to get it in and then turn it in my mouth before running to the button, taking the picture, and then running back to let me free of it. It was a whole ordeal, and I’ve never been in so much pain at the dentist. I was crying and screaming.

Dentist: “Well, there is nothing there that I can help with. I’d say you should get to the emergency room. Getting you on antibiotics was the right thing, but I believe you should get a few of those doses directly into the vein. Tell them I said that.”

So, cue waiting at the emergency room. For some reason, first, I had to take a number, and then I had to explain the whole thing to the receptionist in order to meet a nurse. The nurse said I needed to get another number and tell the receptionist I needed time with a doctor but that I might not be put in the hospital as the dentist wanted. So, then, I had to start over with the whole waiting process.

Finally, I got to meet a doctor, who examined me.

Emergency Doctor: “We’ll get you a bed. I think you should get one dose directly into your vein, and our specialist wants an X-ray just to be sure there isn’t anything else before we send you home.”

They took their tests and gave me some antibiotics, and I got to go in one of those CT scan tubes. Eventually, the specialists came in to talk to me and my husband.

Specialist: “So, we’ve been looking at your scan, and I understand you’ve been fasting?”

Me: “Yes. The last time I ate was Saturday, and I had some to drink yesterday.”

Specialist: “That is good. We will need to operate, and we’ll want to do it as soon as possible.”

There were a lot of details discussed about why and how, which I won’t bother you with, but suddenly, everything went fast. I had to do the pre-operation shower, and they got a room to operate in after only a few hours. As soon as they got the green light, I was rushed over there. It is still a bit of a blur, as I wasn’t really prepared for the urgency after having been shot down so many times when trying to get help.

I spent the next day on a respirator to protect my airways, and I spent a week in the hospital, during which I went from only drinking clear fluids to slowly being able to eat. Several weeks later, I still have difficulties opening my mouth for bigger bites.

One thing that still bugs me, though, is that call in the middle of the night, where I was told that I had no issues breathing since I was able to talk. Shortly after I was back from intensive care, another girl close to my age arrived at the hospital. She couldn’t speak, she was swollen in the throat, she had difficulties breathing, and she could only swallow pills with a lot of help. Of course, I don’t know why, but it turned out that she only needed a couple of doses of antibiotics to get a lot better. Perhaps her issues were worse while the source of them was less so, or perhaps she allowed herself to be just as weak as I felt.

So, to the medical advisor: not all issues manifest in the same way or with the same signs of urgency. Also, some people, like me, fight through the pain to communicate and receive medication in order to, hopefully, make it better. People are different; please understand that if you are to advise them!