The ER is only entertaining on TV.

I have spent a lot of time in doctor's offices the past few years with Jon. Even the emergency room has become a less scary place for me- amazing for someone who used to freak out at the thought of a hospital!

But the last 8 months or so have been quiet. The procedures that were supposed to make his disease manageable enough for a "normal" life were unsuccessful, and he's been managed medicinally fairly successfully. All was well until last night, when he had a seizure. It came so completely out of nowhere, and at first I was convinced that he was messing with me. I won't go into details, but anyone who has witnessed a seizure knows that there are some portions that you just can't fake. And generally, the person stops joking when you call 911!

It was all over within 10 minutes- by the time the paramedics arrived, he was conscious, but so dazed that he refused to go to the hospital. He simply would not believe that anything had happened. He became angry that I called the paramedics, and demanded to know why there were strangers in the apartment. The paramedics were extremely nice, and assured me that this was relatively normal post-seizure. They told me to call if it happened again, at which point they could take him to the hospital without consent. After they left, and I showed Jon the various evidence of his seizure, and he finally cleared up enough to realize what had happened. It was a very long night.

This morning, his primary doctor referred us to the ER so that he could get an immediate neurological consult. Now, with all apologies to my medically inclined friends, I have to say that hospitals are about the most unfriendly places EVER. The admitting nurse actually rolled her eyes and huffed, "Do you really think you need to be in the ER?" Let's just say that after being awake for more that 30 hours, that comment did not go over well. I replied something to the extent of since his DOCTOR told us to go the ER, his DOCTOR must be concerned and we really wanted to follow the DOCTOR'S orders. I'm sorry you hate you job, but guess what? We both hated being there much more that she did; in fact, I would have paid my employers if I could have been at work today, I would have gladly spent the whole day squeezing anal glands and flushing abscesses if it meant that we wouldn't have been in the ER. I'm sure sitting on your ass all day admitting patients gets old; I know I couldn't do it. Which is why I didn't pick that profession.

Anyway, that is enough bitching from me! Fortunately, the doctor that we saw was wonderful; very sympathetic and professional. There are some that will treat a chronic pain patient with contempt- this doctor was not like that at all, even commenting on how debilitating his disease can be. After running a few tests, he declared that Jon was remarkably normal (I could have disputed that part!) and hoped that this was an isolated event, but advised a follow-up with his primary doctor within the next week, and no driving for the next few months.

The lesson in all of this? Never be upset with the direction that your life is taking, because it can always, always, ALWAYS get worse!