Tom & the ER - the extended version
File this in "things that make you realize Ferris Bueller has a point":
The long version of this begins with me helping my friend Jenn for about a year navigate a big diagnosis and then another separate diagnosis. I did what I could to help research what the doctor said, coming up with lists of questions to ask at the next appointment... just stuff that's a lot easier to do when you aren't the patient.
Anyway, after a lot of contemplation, Jenn decided to go with a NYC surgeon I had suggested as an option for a needed surgery. But that meant that her husband needed a place to stay in NYC. We of course said he should stay with us and we really meant it.
Fast forward to the evening after the surgery and Jenn’s husband is making his way from the hospital to the local restaurant where Tom and I are having dinner. It started to get kinda late and long story getting longer, Tom ate an entire giant plate of chicken parm that really was on the huge side.
After Jenn’s husband showed up and we all went back to the apartment, Tom said he was going to bed early (for us, it was almost midnight by then) because his stomach really hurt. He blamed it on the big dinner and also singlehandedly eating an entire bowl of sautéed shishito peppers the day before. He really did eat an entire bowl of shishito peppers it was notably unprecedented.
At 4AM, Tom is up pacing around in a lot of pain. So -- quietly so we don't wake up our houseguest, we creep out of our bedroom and put our shoes on. We decide to walk over to the ER on 13th street. Some people have looked at us with a side eye when I say we walked over to the ER but a) it's close enough and b) I at least was kinda thinking if it was just gas pain or something maybe the walk would actually make it feel better. (spoiler alert: it did not)
Anyway, they do all the scans at the ER and are still waiting for the results at 6AM. I go home for a sec to try to get at least a little bit of sleep. I hear Jenn’s husband get up and I was going to go out, but he left before I had the stamina to drag myself out of bed. Which ended up with an adrenalin filled snap into action because Tom texted and said they were transporting him by ambulance up to the Upper East Side hospital because he required surgery STAT.
Good news! The hospital Tom was going to wind up at was literally a few blocks away from the hospital where Jenn just had her surgery. Earlier I had been planning when to go up and visit Jenn and now it would be so convenient! (insert face palm emoji here in your imagination, I can't figure out how to put one here for real.)
I head out and do not follow the subway directions I had given Jenn’s husband for how to get back and forth to the hospital. I need to get up there fast and I know how to change trains in Union Square, which admittedly takes some practice. Anyway, due to my NYC transit skills and speed walking, I arrive like a bat out of hell in Tom's room -- just in time for a surgeon to pop in and say the surgery is being scheduled for as immediately as possible. I start having a cow. I have not had time to research the condition, the surgery, least of all the surgeon and this hospital's safety and quality scores! I'm having a Class A freak out.
I ask if the surgery can be delayed until we can think this through a little bit. Also maybe it was just the shishito peppers? Can we get back to the peppers? Can everyone agree eating an entire bowl of shishito peppers in one sitting is not one of Tom's better ideas?
The surgeon stares me dead in the eyes and says absolutely not. It's a thing that might burst scenario and time is of the essence. So I double down on my research and it actually doesn't take too long to realize the surgeon is great, the hospital is ok, and the surgery really is a goddamn emergency. It's times like these when I love New York City. The surgeon they called in for the surgery is a specialist in this kind of surgery. What might be rare in the country is "two times last week" in this town.
So Tom has the surgery. They do find a couple shishito pepper seeds. The doctor wants to show photos of the glob they took out of Tom's intestines and even though I'm a little eager to validate the pepper seeds hypothesis because it's a good story and all, I decide such a photo would be something I could never unsee and decline.
Tom is given strict instructions to not pick up anything heavier than 5 pounds for 3 weeks:
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| It's a gun show over here. 💪💪💪 |
Then Jenn got discharged:
Anyway, Tom's better. Surgery successful, all good with nothing further. Jenn's doing ok too.
But yeah. Life's short. I'm looking around some.
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