When we got to County-USC we had to go through a metal detector. I was the first in line at the front desk but the nurse in charge was on her break. By the time she returned ten minutes later, a rather large line stretched out behind me. Fortunately, because I had all of my records and my chest x-ray CDs, she was able to check me in right away and I didn't have to wait in that enormous, cavernous room full of the whipped and resigned. I got to hop to the front of the line! They were soon checking my vitals: blood pressure, temperature, heart rate. (I would soon find out that these would be checked ever two to four hours during my entire stay.) Then I was called in to talk to a nurse practitioner. I handed her my records and CDs and explained to her what I had been through already. She scoffed at the idea of lung cancer, but then saw my palette count and actually said, "Holy shit!" She said there was no way that they could be that high and maybe the machine at Sunset Medical was somehow not working properly. She ordered another blood test for me (my third of the day), and told me that they would get a bed for me upstairs as soon as one was available. I was then told that I would have to wait in a "patient only" waiting room, and that I should send my husband and daughter home as they weren't allowed to be with me. I tearfully said goodbye to Sparky and Bee, and went off to get my blood drawn again. And then I was ushered into the room where I would spend the next nine and a half hours of my life waiting.
I chose a seat against the wall that didn't have anybody next to it on either side. I was very naive at this point, thinking that I would be there for an hour or so tops. I looked around me and observed the other patients. Some of them looked sicker than others, and one poor old man in a wheelchair looked positively out of it. There was a desk staffed with three or four nurses as well as two tables against the opposite wall from me. In between there were about fifty seats and a dozen lounge chairs for those who had IVs in their arms. They were the lucky ones as they got to actually lay down and possible sleep, which was probably hard for them due to the awful overhead florescent lighting. About twenty minutes after sitting down, my name was called by a nurse at one of the side tables. She checked my vitals and asked me what my pain level was on a scale of one to ten. Then she showed a chart with the number one and a drawing of a happy face which led up to the number ten with a crying, very sad face. I was in no pain, so I told her I was the happy face, which made her happy. She told me that I had made her day. I suppose a lot of people in there were in a lot of pain but I actually was feeling pretty good. I did not physically feel like I needed to be in a hospital. But my blood pressure and heart rate were too high which was not good. (And of course those bloody red platelets were too numerous, and there was something still on my lung.) I went back to my seat and waited some more. A little bit later my name was called again, and as I started to get up I was told to sit back down, she just wanted to make sure that I was still there. I guess some patients just take off from time to time. It was kind of like roll call in school.
My cell phone didn't work in this room, but there was a phone that we were allowed to use for local calls only, so I called Sparky and told him that I was still waiting for my room. I had been waiting for over two hours by this time, and finally realized that I might be there for awhile. I started talking to a nice Korean woman sitting a couple of seats away from me who told me that she and her uncle had been there since 9:00 that morning! Her uncle had pancreatic cancer and was having stomach issues, and he didn't speak English, so she was there as his interperter. She told me that they never had to wait like this in Korea because they had good healthcare there for all of their citizens. We both lamented the terrible state of healthcare in America. I then went up to the front desk to find out how long of a wait I was in for. They told me about ten hours from the time I checked in, which was about 5:00 p.m. Jesus. Then we got into a discussion about healthcare in America and they told me some horror stories. It is the law in this country that no hospital can turn away a patient based on their inability to pay. But rich hospitals do it all the time. Like Cedars Sinai for instance, who routinely dump their poor patients off on County-USC, who sees every single patient who comes through their doors. Hence my ten hour wait. I liked the nurses quite a bit and spent some time chatting with them because A: it made the time go by faster and B: it made me forget about the reason why I was there in the first place. I somehow felt safe in that room, and suddenly didn't really mind the ten hour wait because I could put off dealing with what actually brought me there.
So, I quickly fell into a routine. Every two hours I was called to check my vitals. And then a little bit later my name was called to make sure I was still there. And then I would call Sparky to let him know that I was still waiting. By this time the room had filled up and there were no empty seats at all. I sat next to the Korean woman who was very nice to me and saved my seat every time I got up to do something. Every once in a while she would get up to complain to the nurses about her uncle's long wait, but there was nothing they could do. She was told that patients were not seen in the order in which they arrived, but rather the order of urgency. I found out from the nurse who took my vitals that there were three tiers of patients. The number 3's were the ones who were the worse off so they were seen the soonest. Then there were the 2's, who were second worse off, and finally the number 1's who weren't quite as bad. My analogy for it (which the nurse agreed with) was that the 3's might die today, the 2's probably wouldn't die until tomorrow, while the 1's weren't going to die until next week. She told me I was a 2, which meant that I had priority over all the 1's, but not the 3's.
I had packed a small bag when we had stopped at the house, and I was kind of surprised by what was in it. My iPad. Bee's green blanket that was decorated with elephants that she has had since she was a baby. She called it her Green Lambie, and slept with it every night. I knew that she would be upset without it, but somehow was glad that I had it because it comforted me. My sister had given it to her, so I felt like both my sister and my daughter were with me. And there was a pair of clean underwear and socks. Why had I packed that strange mix of things? I called Sparky to tell him that I had Green Lambie, and that I was still waiting. Poor Sparky was at home worried to death about me, and I felt a strong need to reassure him and let him know that I was okay. But every time I thought about the reason why I was there I felt that funny feeling of fear in the pit of my stomach and I pushed it away by simply not thinking about it. As long as I stayed in that room I was safe because I could put off the inevitable.
I did not feel like reading on my iPad as I didn't have the concentration for it. Instead I observed the other patients around me. There was one woman whom I had noticed right away who was dressed conservitaly in navy blue pants, a navy sweater and navy shoes, with a white blouse underneath. She had short hair and looked like some sort of office worker. I couldn't figure her out. She was the only other white woman there besides myself, and seemed like she didn't really belong there. If she had an office job, then why didn't she have health insurance? And then her friend came in to take her to get something to eat. (We were allowed to leave that room as long as we checked in and out with the nurses.) Her friend was dressed identically to her, and that's when I realized that they were Scientologists. Which surprised me. Didn't the Scientologists have their own hospital or something where they used e-meters and stuff as treatment? Weren't they anti-medication? I didn't get it. All that stuff flies out the window when your life is on the line I guess.
Then there was the young prisoner patient who was wearing an orange jumpsuit and had shackles on his feet as well as handcuffs. He was surrounded by two guards who talked and joked around with him. They seemed to be having fun together, and I wondered what this kid had done. He didn't look dangerous or anything, and he must have been a number 3 because he didn't have as long as a wait as the rest of us. I noticed that he wasn't the only one who had people with him. Some of the other patients were sitting with their loved ones, and I particularly noticed a very pregnant woman who was trying to sleep leaning against her partner. Every chair in that room was taken, but some were more comfortable than others. For instance, the chairs not against the wall wouldn't allow the occupants to lean back and rest their heads. I felt kind of sorry for them. And then a patient got up and complained to the nurses that there were non-patients taking up valuable real estate, so a nurse went around and kicked all of them out of the room. The Korean woman got to stay because she was the interpreter, but the poor pregnant lady's husband had to leave. I couldn't believe that that patient had tattled, but there always seems to be a rules stickler in every group of people. And this happens every day of the year, every year...
The most excitement we had that night was caused by a thirty-something homeless guy who came in swearing his head off. Apparently, he had lost his fucking baseball hat in the other goddamned waiting room and he wanted his motherfucking hat back. This he said at the top of his lungs. The nurse took him out to find his fucking hat, but it was long gone. They finally convinced him to sit in one of those lounge chairs and stuck in IV in his arm where he continued to loudly swear until he finally fell asleep. About an hour or two later he suddenly awoke, shouting that he had to fucking pee. So the nurse unhooked him from the IV and instead of going to the bathroom he went out the exit door. They ran after him and found him peeing in the second floor stairwell. They dragged him back to the waiting room, called a janitor to clean up his mess, and tried to get him to sit back down in his chair. But his was really fucking mad this time and he started yelling and calling them names. The security guard called backup as she wasn't able to subdue him and six cops with guns came bursting through the doors. He started screaming at them, the cops told him to calm down, and somehow he did. He sat back down, they put the IV back in his arm, the cops left, and everybody in the room sighed a collective sigh of relief. I got up to get my vitals checked again and on the way back the nurses told me that I was next. I called Sparky to tell him the good news. It was almost 2:00 in the morning and I was exhausted and I was finally going to be next! And then at 2:20 a.m. they called my name. I got up, and felt guilty because they had called me before the Korean woman's uncle who had been waiting way longer then me, for over 17 hours. But I was a 2 and he must have been a 1. I didn't really want to leave that awful, hideous room with the horrible lighting because I was too afraid to find out if I really did have lung cancer. I wanted to stay in blissful ignorance. I nervously walked with the nurse to the elevator and went up the four floors to my room to finally meet my fate.
(to be continued...)
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