I don’t know what’s wrong with you lady

I think my patient hates me! Okay I will admit I am sure she hates me. If it’s any consolation, she hates all her doctors at the hospital. Up until this morning I’d been thinking she hated me a little less than everybody else, by the afternoon I managed to gravitate right to the top of her hate list.

The 78 year old codgette is not entirely without charm though. This morning, for a change, I wasn’t running around like a squirrel, so during my morning rounds I drew up a chair by her side and had a rather longish conversation. She seemed to appreciate that. She even gave me what looked like a begrudging smile.

Resentment however, was still the overbearing emotion during the entire conversation. The lady thinks she has no business being in the hospital. I don’t blame her for that. She thinks I am keeping her here for no reason.

How would you feel if you were brought to the hospital because your daughter thought you were a little short of breath, and the doctors at the ER admitted you because they found a fever on exam which you never experienced, all the while you never really had any inconvenience or felt anything?

Since the admission almost a week ago, it has been just more of the same. Everyday the lady thinks nothing is wrong with her. We however, ever so cautious in tracking the fever, manage to find one spike of fever at least every day that makes us nervous. Okay there are reasons: she is on on an immunosuppressant, and her temperatures records are rather high. However I still don’t have an adequate explanation for the lady.

The enterprising and ever so inquisitive doctors that we are, we never fail to dig. First we start lowbrow, with a simple infection screen. We fail to find anything, and the digging gets deeper. In no while, the digging is walrusian. Yesterday we got a few CT scans, we do the blood works every day. If anything the lady thinks she is starting to get weaker due to the constant blood draw.

I have a hard time justifying all that we are doing. A snippet of our conversation this morning.

Lady: Why are you keeping me here?

Me: You have a high grade fever. We think its viral, but we are not sure. We are trying to find out why.

Lady: So what did you find?

Me: Well, really nothing thus far.

Lady: So what are you going to do now?

I wanted to say we wanted to do a few more tests, but I simply did not have the liver to verbalise that. I kept mum and gave her a vacant stare.

I did not have to. The lady already knows that.

Yesterday the attending physician had ticked her off on a possible spinal tap if the CTs came up to nothing. The lady was livid. We pitch the idea to her daughter. She has been having headaches now. She complains of weakness. And the fevers. With the suppressed immunity, there are reasons to be worried.

The lady half heartedly approves the procedure, all the while not really hiding her indignation toward all of us. We plan the tap for the afternoon today. I tell her not to worry, the procedure will be over in 10 minutes. Let me try that on you first- she retorts!

Afternoon comes. The lady asks who is going to do the procedure. I tell her I will. The lady is incredulous; she invokes the name of god. Her barometer rises, I can see her fuming. Right there I ascend to the top of her hate list.

The procedure thankfully is smooth. I ask the lady to lie down afterward. She does, and our eyes cross. She rolls her eyes away from me. I don’t really have to guess how she feels about me. What are you going to do now, she asks me, while she looks out of the window. I am going home, I tell her. Good for you she says, the sarcasm very visible.

I call up the hospital later in the day to find out the preliminary results of the tap. Everything normal. I can already imagine my conversation with the lady for tomorrow.


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