For the purpose of reference, I'll share some history. Back when David was about 18 months old, we were on our way home from picking Ryan up from his mother's. Just as we were exiting I-20, David suddenly vomited violently. I mean like a geyser. Of course we all kind of freaked out and so we took him to Tanner. He was worked through triage almost immediately, put in a room, and about 20 minutes later was seen by a doctor, who was, if I recall correctly a Pediatrician. Flash forward about a year and a half. James is about 15 months old and it's Christmas time. On our front door was one of those round bells on a loop you hang from a doorknob. James being a typical child of mine, stuck his finger in one of the holes in the bell. When he pulled his finger out, the edge in the that hole sliced his finger open and peeled skin from the first knuckle toward the end of his finger. Once again, we make a trip to Tanner and received the same level of care as before. Now I take Sarah for her persistent fever with no doubt to have a repeat performance.
Even though the fire department I work for does not operate ambulances, I have ridden in to the hospital with a number of critical patients. I've seen what a busy ER looks like. When I walk in the door at Tanner, I did not witness a "slammed" Emergency Department. There was hardly anyone in the waiting room. I sign her in, and I'm then directed to have a seat and wait. I wait for almost an hour holding my child. Apparently, the staff was sticking to a strict "first come, first serve" rule and did not think a pediatric patient deserved any priority. Finally we're called to triage, after that, we go out onto the floor and are shown to room #7. There are no beds in the hallway, no traumas or full arrests being worked, no frenzied or frazzled nurses and doctors hooping from room to room. First we speak with a staff member who takes down information for billing purposes, gotta get that important stuff out of the way you know. A few minutes later, a woman, who I believe is a CNA, takes Sarah's information for a medical chart, and tells us we should be seen by the Dr. or RN in 15 minutes or so. Try an HOUR and 15 minutes. Alright, so the doc comes in, and of course Sarah screams bloody murder, as she does with most strangers, and other people outside her immediate family, he listens to her history, checks her ears, throat, listens to her lungs and says all are clear. He then says he'll order a set of chest X-rays to rule out pneumonia, I guess he couldn't hear her breath sounds over her screaming, and then leaves. Forty five minutes later, we get called to X-ray, which is another dose of torture for Sarah because she has to lay on a table with a lead blanket over her pelvis and legs, and has to be held down. After the X-rays, we go back to room 7 and get back to waiting. It's another forty five minutes when the Dr. comes in, tells me her lungs are clear, and that he's diagnosing an upper respiratory infection, will write a RX for amoxicillin, and will close out her chart so we can leave. That must be a lot more work than most people realize because nearly an HOUR later, I was about to come unglued, so I gather Sarah and diaper bag, step out of the room, walk up to the nurse's station and announce, "I need to leave sometime today." Everyone within earshot just looked at me as if to say ,"yeah, so do we." A nurse at the computer tells me to just have a seat in the room and he'll be with me in a minute. I really didn't feel like sitting any more, so I stood there, hold Sarah, and stared at them until I got the paperwork and left to check out. By now, it's about 3:00, I'm full of indignation and I'm going over the long letter I'm going to compose about this ridiculous experience. I think everyone who looked at my face got the hint and kept out of my way. On our way home, I get to thinking. I now have a prescription for amoxicillin. An antibiotic. How the heck does that Dr. know Sarah has a BACTERIAL infection since no test was done for it. There was no sample of saliva or mucus taken. If anything, she was practically dehydrated and could have done with about 200 cc's of Normal Saline. I have just fallen right into the Rx mismanagement that I like to criticize the medical world for. Even though I work in EMS, with my own child I needed someone else to assess her signs and symptoms and give her treatment I could not. Instead, I got a Rx that in all likely hood was not needed.
Lesson learned, if some receptionist at your doctor's office gets snotty and says your sick child can't be seen that day, let her/him know you will be making a trip up there and so they better find a slot. I did call Sarah's pediatrician today, and after telling her the story, we were seen even though there were no openings. I am glad to say Sarah appears to be on the mend and will hopefully be her old self by tomorrow.
