Last night as I was getting ready to post yesterday’s post stabbing pains suddenly shot through my abdomen. It was so sudden and so sharp that it took my breath away. Even though I was still sitting at the computer I bent over clutching my abdomen. The pain was so severe that after 10 minutes of the relentless stabbing hot fiery pain, I asked the hubster to take me to the emergency room. I have to be one hell of a lot of pain to go to that hell-hole we call the ER. There I am doubled over in pain, moaning, tears streaming down my face and even though there were no other patients in the ER it took the doctor 20 minutes to see me. When he does he tries to argue with me about pancreatitis facts. He poked the spot where my pancreas is and I about went through the roof. He gave me a disapproving look and told me right to my face that there was no way that hurt. He treated me like I was a drug seeker and told me to cut the theatrics because pancreatitis isn’t as painful as I was making it out to be. Hello idiot, I have chronic pancreatitis and I know more about pancreatitis then you will ever know in your miserable lifetime jerk! So now I was in pain and pissed! I begged him to call my family doctor and my pancreas specialist (the great Dr. Glen Lehman). Meanwhile he gave me something for the pain. He gave me a frigging extra strength Tylenol! Seriously, he did. I couldn’t believe it. As for the vomiting I was doing? The doctor didn’t order anything for that. They didn’t even give me a puke container. The hubster had to find one in the room for me. Fortunately I had some pretty strong pain meds in my purse so when I realized he wasn’t going to treat me properly I took one of the strongest pain meds I have. And I had the hubster look around the room until he found some hot packs to lay on my abdomen. A couple of hours later El-Retardo, MD came back in. He had obviously looked through my extensive records by that point or talked to one of my doctors because his whole tone had changed. He stopped treating me like a faking drug seeker. He didn’t give me anything stronger for the pain, but he finally believed I was in a pancreatitis attack. He asked me what I needed to be done. I said just let me go home. By that point I was so done with that place and those stupid people. They are the exact reason that people with chronic disabling conditions don’t go to the hospital for treatment.
So today I made an appointment with my family doctor for next week so I can discuss the situation with him and obtain a letter of treatment that I can take to the ER with me should I ever go again (which is doubtful). I am also getting a similar letter from Dr Lehman, my pancreas specialist. It’s a damned shame when the patient knows more than the doctor, especially when it is an emergency situation.
And now I have to finish packing. We are hitting the road to go to Kentucky in an hour. Even though we have had only 3 hours of sleep we are getting the hell out of Dodge for the weekend.
Happy trails!
...and the kicker is, that if you were a MAN complaining of panceatitis most likely the doctor would have b een all ears and helpful and considerate and. . .
WTH is in KY that you had to go the seek B4 Derby?