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Why do I call it a fiasco? Because that’s what it ended up being. I have been in the hospital recently for a blood clot in my leg. Since then, I got a really strange rash that our doctor said was bad enough that I needed to be in the hospital or at the least, get to a doctor that knows about this thing. He sent me on to a hematologist. She told me that as far as her medical knowledge, I was healthy…blood-wise. But that she agreed with my doctor that something needed to be done. She called a couple of doctors, none of whom was willing to admit to admitting privileges at the local hospital. The hospital itself was not about to admit me with an unknown origins rash. Interesting right?
So, the docs decided I should go to another facility. We did that. Bearing in mind that I have a blood clot in my leg, we traveled by car from our house to the docs, the second docs, back home to pack and on to another hospital, roughly 180 miles or more. That’s where we stayed for several hours while the ER doc decided whether I could be admitted there or not. He came in and said that I needed a better hospital than theirs and wanted to send me on to Springfield, Mo. hospital. I hated the idea because we had been on the go all day, my leg was aching badly and I was so tired, I was about to fall over and would have except I was on a narrow gurney in an exam room, leg up for once. By this time, I am entertaining ideas of going on one of those Mediterranean cruises and getting the heck out of Dodge. But it was not to be. He did want me to travel by ambulance due to the clot but we were unsure as to how my husband was going to get there if he could not get a ride. (He can’t drive at night)
The doc returns with a funny look on his face. I am getting the picture. Springfield did not want me there either. Interesting, isn’t it. We ended up staying in a motel that we got to around 1:30am. It was a pit. We didn’t argue though we should have. It was incredibly hot in that place due to the air conditioner that wouldn’t. Eventually, it did but that’s just the icing on the cake for the day. Next day we got back home. It was Saturday. On Monday, I get from the doc’s office that we went to the wrong hospital and if we had gone to the one he wanted us to go to, we would have been admitted……probably. Uh huh. And then he wanted me to go on to that one despite the fact that we were still tired from the previous situation and that he had no guarantees that we would be admitted. The capper is that this one is over a hundred miles from the house to the city..that’s one way. We had already traveled over that to do the other runaround. No thanks.
In the end, the rash is disappearing. Funny, huh? Not to me. Strange, weird, not funny. Tiring.
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