Adventures In Medicine
August 10th (2012). I had quite an adventure. This past Monday, 08/06 (2012) I reported to Dr. Hoover that I can’t stop my legs from shaking. She told me to call 911 and see if I could be sent to Bellevue, so I did that afternoon. I brought my ideas notebook and wrote up what transpired, and I will transfer the rest of the entry to my blog.
I called Gouverneur and left a message for social worker Eva Ramirez, and Dr. Hoover replied and told me to play the 911 card. I said I expected to do that but I felt I had to contact her first to let her know about the shaking, which started the previous Wednesday. Of all the doctors I’ve had at Gouverneur, she is the best, and in my opinion, the only real doctor I’ve seen so far. I shut down everything and packed phone, charger, ideas notebook, numbers and so forth notebook, what I call my “Book of Knowledge and a Robert Jordan Wheel of Time, Book Eleven. I couldn’t find the Glenn Cook book I’d been reading, because I didn’t know it was in another pouch in my bag. I put in the call, and shortly thereafter an FDNY ambulance came. I asked to be taken to Bellevue, but they said they couldn’t, that they had to take me to the nearest Bronx hospital, North Bronx Central. I was wheeled in and given my own room, actually some sort of triage or holding room, right across from the nurse’s station. I was given a gown, and I stripped to my briefs and got the gown tied behind after a few attempts. I couldn’t use my own phone, but an aide gave me a hospital phone. I called Junior, Anna and I forgot whom else, and I just now realized I still haven’t called Junior. Oh, I have it here. Tammy, Dr. Hoover, Pat, and I forgot to call Miriam.
I wasn’t originally given socks. When I had to pee, I got up and hobbled to the nearest patient bathroom and collected a urine sample, and when I came back I put it on some sort of plastic container across from my bed.
A Hindu or other Worthy Oriental Gentleman told me they had no medical information about me and that it was impossible to transfer me to Bellevue, where I’ve been seen for Parkinson’s since August 10th, well, maybe earlier, but the diagnosis appointment was that day, and I was still living at the Smith’s. An aide said she would get a social worker somebody, and that’s the last I’ve heard.
The mood is getting worse, and the blood sugar is down, and I doubt I’ll be fed tonight. This whole adventure is turning out to be a colossal mistake, and if I could make it to the nearest bus stop or subway station, I’d be on my way and deal with the shaking as I have for the past five days.
I have been moved. I am perpendicular to the nurse’s station, facing the right side, and I am between two curtains. A wall is behind me and the front is open. The bed on the right, the right-hand curtain, features a woman who can’t stop crying. This is not as bad as the little girl who screamed and cried for what seemed like hours right outside my room. I had a blood test in the room, and I was taken for x-rays after I have no idea how long. I asked a doctor why they couldn’t just get my records from Bellevue, and I was told that they aren’t linked up. He also said I would be released if nothing else turns up wrong with me, nothing beside uncontrollable shaking legs.
I was released around nine that same evening and went to the transportation office to get carfare. Last time at Bellevue transportation window, I was told that metrocards were given only to those on Medicaid, and I just left. I should have presented my NYS benefits card, and I did so this time. The woman at the window didn’t check and gave me $2.25 in quarters, and I left. I took several wrong turns, so far up in the Bronx I was near Van Cortland Park, and after asking directions twice more, I arrived at Bainbridge Avenue and asked a bus driver for directions to the D train station. He said it was right down the block and let me get on for the one-block ride. I was on the 205th Street station, last stop for the D, and two stations later I was hobbling down 196th Street.
Proof of the Puddin’head
June 15th. I read an entry in SA science blogging weekly entitled “An Anarchist Constitution for Twitter,” and I found just enough humor. I have a twitter account, but I don’t think I know the password or whatever, and I’ve only used it once. My contact for sending work called me Puddin’head in his e-mail, and I saw him use that as part of his updated addressing. My tweet was quite simple: I thought Puddin’head was my name. I’ve never read Mark Twain’s Puddin’head Wilson, and now I guess I have to.
June 2nd. Back in 1982 or 1983, the then Attorney-General of the U.S., Ed Meese, declared that there was no evidence of any hunger in this country. The Times photo had him in profile—his stomach nearly as big as his head.
Today’s Times has a blog entry, Real-Life Hunger Games in America by Marcus Mabry (NYT June 2, 2012), about some throw-away pamphlets he found in an “unsolicited materials” area of the NYT newsroom. These were for children about nutritional matters, and Mabry said of the experience, “It was a cold dose of reality for me.” Some of the advice had parents encouraging their children to eat when older siblings skip meals or tell the younger to eat less. Questions parents maybe asked are on the order of “why don’t we have enough food?” and a Sesame-Street themed booklet has the characters going to a food pantry. Now, hunger in America? Mabry reports that one in five children in this country are “at risk of suffering from hunger.” Attached is a link to a food company, Conagra, about childhood hunger and a link to a USDA report on the same subject. I’m looking at the Conagra page now, and I’m reading the 20 percent figure is for forty states. The five worst are Arizona, Arkansas, Oregon, Texas and Wash D.C.
Too bad Ed’s not around to read this.
Fox In the…
A NYT front-page article reports on regulatory problems at JP Morgan Chase, mentioning that the Federal Reserve Bank of NY and something called the Office of the Comptroller of the Currency had offices in that building. I am writing this as I am reading the article, and I have to see what the Office, etc. is. I clicked on the link in the article, and instead of a definition I saw a list of articles mentioning whatever that is. The office “fields complaints about the nation’s banks…” but “What many customers may not realize is that the man who oversees the operation used to represent the very banks they are complaining about.” This article ran March 27th, 2010. Back to the current disaster, the Times reported that there were no regulators in the investment offices here and in London. The official’s name is Dugan, and the initials are O.C.C. , “stymied attempts by state attorneys general to enforce consumer protection laws.”