The Return of Transport

Blood counts: no news is no news -- still not going anywhere. Expecting news from the marrow biopsy tomorrow.

Mile 1 -- 15:02
Mile 2 -- 14:39 (negative splits!)

= = =

[This is not my first encounter with Transport since my memorable introduction to their ways, and I have a few followup posts I want to write about some of my (also memorable) other trips. But those can wait, and this is current.]

On Tuesday, I had a bunch of tests scheduled for the afternoon. Which means, in hospital time, sometime before midnight.

First was the bone marrow biopsy at noon, to be followed shortly by CT scans of chest and sinuses, to be followed by x-rays of my teeth. All but the biopsy were to look for possible explanations for my fevers and also make sure I am fit for transplant in case we go with the more condensed schedule.

The bone marrow biopsy was done at 12:50. It didn't make sense to order lunch, since CT scans were imminent, so I snacked from my stash, recently enhanced with treats from Great Harvest. (Thanks, Lisa!)

A scant two hours later, Transport arrived to take me down to CT. She had a rolling gurney, so instead of wheeling with my IV pole, she moved my one active pump from the pole to the gurney. Off we went to CT. I waited awhile in the CT reception area, and then the tech came for me.

The CT scanner is a favorite of mine. It's a big off-white donut surrounding a sliding bed. Once you're on the bed, the machinery inside the donut starts spinning, and you hear this low whirring that rises in pitch as the machine speeds up. Through a clear window running around the inner waist of the donut, you can see the innards spinning faster and faster around you,. Then a robotic female voice tells you to breathe in and hold your breath, and you feel like you're about to be launched through a 1950s vision of twenty-first century teleportation technology. Who knows where you'll end up, or if you'll arrive in one piece?

So far, I have always ended up roughly back where I started.

Then it was off to the CT reception area to wait for Transport. The nurse made a phone call that prioritized me. I though she was just being nice, but then I found out that patients with certain vulnerabilities (like my inability to fight bacteria) get rushed back to their rooms as soon as possible, to minimize their exposure to dangerous hospital air.

My pump started beeping, After a few failed attempts to solve the problem by adjusting the settings and maybe some other things, the nurse solved the problem by turning off the pump. This did not disturb me as much as it might have, since it was just a very slow saline drip. Then, the nurse wheeled me out into the hall where I joined a few other patients, a little after 4:00. This felt familiar.

One man was dressed in street clothes, and he was agitated because they hadn't taken him in for his 3:00 scan, and now it was after 4:00, and he thought he had been forgotten. Outsiders and their sense of time... so cute!

The other man was in a wheelchair and wearing a gown -- an insider. We talked. He said he thought that he had been there for a couple of hours waiting for his ride back to his room, though he couldn't be sure. I told him my Transport story (very abridged). He was scared that he had been disconnected from his pumps two hours ago for a "short" trip to CT and who knows what was or wasn't happening inside his body that should or should not be happening because of that.

I felt terrible.

Then Transport showed up. Yay! This poor man could finally get back to his room and some peace of mind. But, no. Transport was here for the prioritized me. "Can you take him first?" "No, I got your name."

I felt worse.

As Transport wheeled me away, I hollered, "Somebody get this man back to his room!" Like that would help, but it was all I could think of.

I complained to my transporter about how people sometimes get left for way too long. She agreed that it happened, but I didn't get the feeling she felt it was a problem.

Back at my room, my transporter moved the pump from the bed to my IV pole, and I'm thinking that's it for the day, it being so close to suppertime. Familiar concepts of time die hard.

I went to plug my IV pole back into the wall, but I could not. The pump had been reattached in a way that left only a few feet of power cord free, which was barely enough to reach the outlet and far short of the amount of leash I need. I summoned help. The nurse took a long, bewildered, disgusted look at the vertical tangle of power cords, pumps, and tubing, and then started dismantling a good portion of it. It took her about 10 minutes to get it the way she wanted it, which was much neater than it was when I left the room, but that's kind of how she is. Which I appreciate in a nurse.

Not too long after the nurse left, I had a visitor: the Patient Transportation Manager.

(to be continued)