Two days ago I finished off 10 days of Cipro. This fun-sounding antibiotic was prescribed to deal with what was diagnosed as a bacterial prostate infection. After separate 7 and 10 day doses rather than feeling all fresh and zesty I found it hurt to pee. Having one of the world’s smallest bladders, this has proven inconvenient, to say the least.
And so it is that I begin my weekend sitting in the emergency of Royal Columbian Hospital in New Westminster.
11:00 a.m. I check in. Almost immediately I am called over, tagged and given an initial probing–blood pressure and temperature.
11:05 a.m. I am sent back to triage. Only a few moments pass before I am moved along to the area beyond triage. The people in this area do not look happy. There is someone in a bed with the curtain not quite pulled far enough to completely obscure him or her. The shadowy movements bring to mind a Stephen King story.
11:15 a.m I am told to follow the green arrows on the floor and wait in relative seclusion for the doctor. Nearby and unseen a child is crying out as if in agony.
At 11:25 the child is still crying but I can hear someone trying to calm him and talking about how they need to make sure they stop the bleeding. The kid seems unconvinced. Wailing continues.
11:28 a.m. Someone moves me further along to the Minor Treatment Waiting Room. There are more green arrows leading here. I think this is where I was supposed to be. Oops.
The man takes my chart and the wailing kid is farther away which serves to give his cries a more dream (or rather nightmare) like quality.
It is 11:31 a.m. There are five other people here, four of whom appear to be couples. The real waiting mow begins.
11:33 a.m. That kid is really starting to get on my nerves.
11:37 a.m. A young couple arrives with a girl of about three. They listen to the screams and the mother says, “She’s going to sound like that.” That’s the spirit!
11:40 a.m. I am moved to the room I initially went to by mistake and about five minutes later a young doctor attends to me to begin the ‘men of a certain age’ diagnosis in earnest.
After numerous questions and some hands-on probing I am asked to pee in a cup–again. I comply with attendant discomfort. She then decides a rectal exam is in order and for probably the only time ever a woman gets intimate with my butt. The thought of this being an indignity doesn’t occur to me due to being that certain age.
12:05 p.m. I await the initial results of the pee analysis. I notice now that the kid is no longer wailing. Smothered with a pillow, perhaps. The waiting room is now standing room only.
I have drained 5% of my phone’s battery typing this.
12:07 p.m. A man gets called in. He gets up very slowly. He fell off a ladder. I wonder if a person can walk with a broken back.
12:15 p.m. My thoughts turn to food. Mmm, food. I have no food.
I wonder why I am waiting for the urinalysis when the doctor said it would take several days to get a detailed sample of the culture. I will be very hungry in several days.
12:24 p.m. A little kid is taken in and starts crying. Pace yourself, I say. At least wait until the gloves come out.
Meanwhile, the other kid here decides to have a mini-tantrum. I say mini because I know she is capable of so much more.
They just wheeled a woman by in a bed that filled the entire aisle. Three people guiding it and there’s a machine on it that beeps like a heart beat.
12:30 p.m. My phone is down to 91%. I blame Bejeweled 2.
12:50 p.m. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m actually still supposed to be here.
A guy who sheared off his fingertip sits down next to me. No gushing blood. Yet.
1:00 pm to 1:45 pm. I am finally introduced to the actual doctor (the woman is a resident). He asks a lot of intimidatingly personal questions and I answer plainly. The initial pee sample comes back clean save for a very tiny trace elevation in blood glucose — consistent with other results. No infection to be found. He suggests a few possibilities, like a yeast infection (possible in men, says he) or maybe irritation in my manhood as a result of the antibiotics. But he doesn’t think these are the causes. He thinks it’s an STI even though I’ve been in a monogamous relationship for the past year. I am given pills to take for a week and another pee sample is taken which will be tested for STIs. I’ll know if I get a call in the next five days or so. no call means everything is fine there. He tells me to practice safe sex and for me and my partner to get tested for the biggies like HIV and such within the week. This is sensible advice and I’ll definitely follow up, even at the risk of getting Very Bad News because knowing is better than not knowing.
I’m going with the irritation theory, though. It’s the least disturbing.
As I make my way out of the exam room I notice another guy on the other bed. He is on his side and curled up in a bit of a fetal position. That doesn’t look good. At least he’s not screaming.
The person in the rolling bed with the beeping machine is trundled by again with even more people in attendance. I’m wondering if they’re just getting scooped up as the giant bed is wheeled down the halls.
All told my visit lasted a little under three hours but actual waiting times were not bad. The staff was friendly and efficient so as far as icky hospital visits go it went about as well as can be expected. My phone battery stands at 83%.
I do not want to go back.
