March 12th, 2008 by Dr. Val Jones in True Stories
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Every physician has a few traumatic patient stories forever etched in their minds. My friend Dr. Rob recently blogged about the sad case of a little boy with an ear infection – his bulging red eardrum suggested a common problem requiring antibiotics. Little did anyone know that the bacteria behind the drum would get into his spinal fluid, causing meningitis and rapid death. Another emergency medicine physician tells the story of an elderly woman whose aorta dissected right in front of the medical team, with barely enough time for the trauma surgeon to save her life.
One of my surprising moments occurred when I was an ER resident. A middle aged woman (we’ll call her Lizzy) was sent to the ER in the middle of the afternoon after a near-fainting episode in a pain management clinic. She was fairly well known to the more senior residents and staff (she was a chronic pain patient on multiple medications who came to the ER for frequent generalized pain work ups and rescue doses of her meds). So since this lady had cried wolf a few too many times, she was assigned to me – the newbie.
I had no pre-conceived notions about Lizzy, and hadn’t experienced her exaggerated and benign abdominal pain claims in the past. She was lucid, with a smoker’s cough and mildly disheveled, short hair with dark roots and blond tips. She explained that she had been at her usual pain management appointment when she got up from the waiting room chair to register and almost blacked out. She described feeling lightheaded, and needing to sit back down immediately. The clinic staff called our ER to transfer her for an evaluation.
Lizzy seemed fairly cheerful and unconcerned about her near fainting – as if swooning bought her a free ride to the ER to see her “other doctors.” But still, something didn’t seem right to me about her. She was light skinned, but not pink enough. Her blood pressure was low-normal. She had no particular pain anywhere, though on the levels of narcotics she was taking it would be a miracle if she could feel any pain at all. I decided to watch her, take serial vitals, and order a CBC and Chem 7 to see if there might be any signs of dehydration or anemia.
The second set of vitals showed a slightly lower blood pressure and a slightly higher pulse. She sat on the stretcher, watching the TV without any particular sense of urgency. Since it was an unusually slow afternoon, I got the chance to ask for more details of her medical history. Lizzy described her normal daily activities at the assisted living center, and how she had attended a party where she’d had a bit too much to drink and had fallen on a chair a couple of days ago. She said it hurt at first in her left upper quadrant, but it felt only slightly sore now.
Her CBC came back with a lowish hematocrit, and a third blood pressure reading was trending lower yet. I really wasn’t sure what was going on, but I was getting nervous. I presented the case to my attending (who knew the patient very well) and suggested that we get an abdominal CT to rule out internal bleeding.
He rolled his eyes and sneered at me. “Do you know how many CTs this woman has had already?”
“Um, no…” I winced.
“She gets one every freaking time she’s in here, and it’s always non-specific. Inexperienced residents like you are wasting hospital resources on drug seekers!”
“But she does have some anemia, low blood pressure, and a history of abdominal trauma…” I mumbled.
“She’s always slightly anemic, with low blood pressure – what would YOUR blood pressure be on high dose oxycontin?”
“But she looks pale and she almost fainted…” I tried to continue my argument.
“Alright, Jones… I’m going to let you order the CT as a learning experience for you. This is a teaching hospital, and I guess that means that we can irradiate patients at will. Go ahead… we’ll see what it shows.”
By this time I was really questioning myself. I’d gotten in an argument with one of our attendings who knew this patient intimately and had years of medical experience beyond my own. If I was wrong about her, he’d make me pay for the rest of the year – and tell all the other residents about my poor clinical judgment and wasted hospital resources. I was very nervous, but I just had to follow my instinct.
I sent the woman to the CT scanner with a reassuring pat on the shoulder. She winked at me and disappeared into the radiology suite.
Ten minutes later I was paged by the radiologist, his voice was tense – “Your patient has a splenic laceration, you’d better call in the trauma surgeons. She’s fading fast…”
Before I could put the phone down I heard the trauma team being paged overhead and some surgeons emerged from behind a curtain and started running to the CT scanner, almost knocking me off my feet in the hallway.
As it turns out, the trauma team was able to save Lizzy by removing her spleen. She spent several days in the hospital receiving blood transfusions and recovering from the operation. My attending never mentioned the incident again, though I never forgot Lizzy’s near-death experience. Maybe it was a blessing that I was a “newbie” when I met Lizzy – my lack of knowledge of her usual behavior allowed me to view her with a fresh eye, and take her complaints seriously. It’s really hard to hit that reset button with every “frequent flier” in the ER – but sometimes it can save a life.This post originally appeared on Dr. Val’s blog at RevolutionHealth.com.
January 18th, 2008 by Dr. Val Jones in True Stories, Uncategorized
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A coworker (we’ll call her Tina) approached me yesterday for what she called “pseudo medical advice.” Apparently she had gone to a local sandwich shop with a friend, and purchased some bottled water to compliment her deli item. As the two sat down at a table and prepared to have a leisurely lunch, Tina twisted off the water top and took a big swig.
To her horror, she had taken a large gulp of what tasted like lemon soda instead. She checked the plastic bottle – it was marked as pure water. She instantly recalled that the bottle top had come off rather easily and she heard no characteristic suction noise as air first entered. She was gripped with fear – could this be a poisoning? Did someone tamper with the bottle to inflict harm on unsuspecting victims?
Tina’s friend advised her to call the Poison Control Center. The woman who answered asked if Tina was having any symptoms – nausea/vomiting, headache, dizziness, abdominal pain… She denied each of these, complaining only of some tingling around her mouth (probably because Tina was so worried that she was hyperventilating). The Poison Control Center recommended that she keep the bottle, call the water manufacturer, and go to the ER immediately if she experienced any symptoms.
Tina asked me if she had done the right thing and if I thought she might have been poisoned. I told her that calling the Poison Control Center was a good idea, and although the thought of drinking out of a stranger’s water bottle is fairly disgusting, here’s what I thought about her actual risk:
1. The most likely scenario is that someone was using the water bottle for their daily drink – refilling it with soda from home and taking it to work each day. They probably left it on a counter by accident and a clerk reshelved it in the cooler. I give this an 80% chance of being the cause of the SNAFU.
2. The second most likely scenario is that some kids wanted to pull a prank and intentionally filled the water bottle with soda to see what would happen when someone drank it. I give this a 19.99% likelihood.
3. The third potential explanation for what happened, which is very unlikely, is that a nefarious random killer is masking poison with Sprite or 7-Up in water bottles around the city. I give that a 0.0001% chance on the high side.
The reason why I don’t think Tina’s drama is consistent with a poisoning is three-fold:
1. Most poisonings are directed towards specific individuals – renegade spies, abusive spouses, unwanted kids, that sort of thing. It’s quite rare for people to bother to try to poison random individuals. In the rare cases where this has happened (take the Tylenol debacle of 1982 for example – where cyanide was carefully planted in non-tamper resistant bottles) the idea was to make the person think that the product they were taking was totally NORMAL. Otherwise, why would the person take the full dose? A water bottle filled with soda is a real red flag.
2. The most common deadly poisons are flavorless and odorless (cyanide and arsenic) so there would be no need to use lemon soda to cover the taste. Styrchnine is incredibly bitter and can’t be covered up easily – anthrax, ricin, and sarin have to be inhaled so they wouldn’t be as successful in a bottle form.
3. Tina had no immediate symptoms. Arsenic poisoning causes symptoms within 2-24 hours of exposure, with abdominal pain, headache, weakness, dizziness being the most common initial symptoms. They are followed by bloody urine, jaundice, and severe abdominal pain. For cyanide, the effects are very rapid – causing confusion, fainting, collapse and potential coma. Again, after 24 hours Tina was completely asymptomatic.
After discussing this with Tina she said she felt much better and she perked up nicely. Then tilted her head thoughtfully and asked, “could I catch an infectious disease from drinking out of someone else’s bottle? Like, could I get herpes?”
“Oh yes, that’s possible. Cold, flu, and herpes viruses can be transmitted from glasses and bottles.”
A look of horror crossed her face.
“Um… well (I tried to save all the reassuring I’d done about the poisoning) it’s probably unlikely… I uh, don’t know how long the bottle was sitting in the fridge, maybe the viruses dried up and died?”
“Well, thanks, Val. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”
“Yep. You’ll probably be just fine. Did you have your flu shot this year?”
“Uh, no.”
“Oh, never mind.” I said.
And Tina turned around and left with about the same level of anxiety that she had arrived. We’d just switched poisoning for herpes or the flu. Oh well?This post originally appeared on Dr. Val’s blog at RevolutionHealth.com.
November 8th, 2007 by Dr. Val Jones in True Stories
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Today a dear friend of mine told me a horror story about her recent trip to a hospital ER. She has kidney stones, with rare bouts of excruciating pain when they decide to break off from their renal resting place and scrape their way down her ureters.
My friend is a stoic person who also doesn’t like to cause trouble for others – so when she was awoken at 4am with that same familiar pain, she decided not to call an ambulance but rather drive herself to the ER. She also chose not to call her doctor out of consideration for his sleep needs.
She managed to make it to the triage desk at her local hospital and was relieved to see that the ER was quite empty. There were no ambulances in the docks, no one in the waiting area, and no sign of any trauma or resuscitations in the trauma bay. She approached the desk trembling in pain and put her health insurance card, driver’s license, and hospital card on the desk and let the clerk know that she was in incredible pain.
The clerk responded,
“Lady, I saw you walk yourself in here. There’s no way you’re in that much pain. Sit down and fill out this paper work!”
My friend replied in a soft voice,
“Please, can you help me fill out these forms? I can barely see straight and can’t concentrate well. I have a kidney stone and it’s excruciating.”
Tears fell softly from her face as the clerk rolled his eyes at her.
“Yeah, I’m sure you do. And I bet you’re allergic to everything but Demerol.”
My friend started becoming frightened, realizing that she was being pegged as a “drug seeker” and would be punished with a long wait time for pain medication. “Please let me just speak to the triage nurse.”
“Sure, sweetheart,” hissed the clerk. “I’ll get him when you’ve finished your paperwork.”
And so my friend sobbed as she tried to fill in her address, phone number, insurance information, etc. on the paper form at a hospital where she had been treated for over 7 years for ovarian cancer. All of that information was in their EMR, but the registration process would not be waived.
The triage nurse slowly emerged, still chewing a bite of his steak dinner. “What have we got?” He said to the clerk looking out into a waiting room populated only by my sobbing friend.
The clerk replied to him under his breath. The nurse rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. “Alright lady, let’s get you back to an examining room. Follow me.”
My friend followed him back to the patient rooms, doubled over in pain and was put on a stretcher with a thin curtain dangling limply from the ceiling.
She couldn’t control her tears. She couldn’t get comfortable and she moaned softly as she took short breaths to explain her past history. She handed him her business card, explaining who she was and that she was not faking her pain. The nurse made no eye contact, jotted down some notes in a binder, and prepared to leave the room.
“Listen, your crying is disturbing the other patients,” he said, yanking the curtain across the front of the room to block her visually, as if the curtain would make her disappear.
Hours passed. My friend had no recourse but to writhe on the stretcher and cry out occasionally when the pain was too intense too bear. She asked for them to order a CT scan so they could see the stones. The nurse ordered it, a physician never came to examine her.
Four hours later my friend was greeted by a physician. “You have kidney stones. One is in your right ureter, and there are others sitting in your left kidney. Do you need some Dilauded?”
“Yes please!” said my friend, hoping that some relief was in sight.
“Alright, the nurse will be here shortly.” Said the doctor, glancing at her chart without completing a physical exam.
The shift changed and a new nurse came in to place an IV. She was gruff and complained that my friends veins were too small. “I’ve never seen anyone with a kidney stone need this much pain medicine” she snapped with a suspicious tone.
Five hours after her arrival at a virtually empty ER my friend received pain medicine for her kidney stone. She is a cancer survivor and national spokesperson for patient advocacy. In her time of need, though, she had no advocate to help her. No, she received nothing for her years of service, for her selfless devotion to helping others, for her tenderness to patients dying of a disease with no cure.
That night, my friend did not even receive the benefit of the doubt.This post originally appeared on Dr. Val’s blog at RevolutionHealth.com.
September 17th, 2007 by Dr. Val Jones in News
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Physicians have known for at least 40 years that infectious bacteria (like staphylococcus aureus) can be transmitted on clothing. And now, as part of a comprehensive plan to reduce hospital infection rates, Britain’s National Health Service has recommended against physicians wearing white coats.
An interesting research study showed (back in 1991) that the dirtiest part of physicians’ coats are the sleeve tips and pockets. But surprisingly, coats that were washed at 1 week intervals and coats that were washed at 1 month intervals were equally capable of transmitting bacteria. Now that multi-drug resistant bacteria have become so common, they too can hitch a ride on coat sleeves and make their way from patient to patient.
During my residency, I clearly remember being horrified by the grunge I saw on my colleagues’ coats, all hanging up together on hooks outside the O.R.s. and in various parts of the hospital. I used to wonder if they were spreading diseases – but comforted myself that many bacteria need a moist environment to survive – so while the coats were certainly filthy, by and large they were not moist. Unfortunately my self-comfort was somewhat ill conceived – gram negative bacteria (like E. coli) do indeed need moisture for survival, but many viruses and gram positive bacteria (they usually live on the skin) do just fine in a dry environment. Other studies have confirmed that stethoscopes also carry a high bacterial load if not cleaned between patients. In fact, in reviewing some research studies for this blog post, I found that researchers have analyzed everything from hospital computer keyboards, to waiting room toys and patient charts. Infectious bacteria have been cultured from each of these sites.
Which leaves me to wonder: can we ever create a sterile hospital environment? Not so much. Although I agree that infections can be spread by white coats, and that a short sleeved clothing approach might help to reduce disease spread, I’d like to see some clear evidence of infection rates being reduced by not wearing coats before I’d prescribe this practice uniformly (pun intended). Bacteria can be spread on any type of clothing, by blood pressure cuffs, by stethoscopes, by dirty hands, by hospital charts… and we certainly can’t dispose of all of these. What would be left?
White Coat Rants (a wonderful new ER blog) describes the “ER of the future” – adhering to all the possible safety concerns of oversight bodies. Take a look at this whimsical perspective on what it would take to make the Emergency Department truly “safe” and imagine what it would take to make the hospital totally sterile.This post originally appeared on Dr. Val’s blog at RevolutionHealth.com.
September 10th, 2007 by Dr. Val Jones in Health Tips
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A colleague slammed his thumb in a door recently and got a black and blue nail. He told me that he searched for how to treat it on the Internet, and was advised to stick holes in the nail to relieve the pressure. I gazed at his thumb nail, peppered with tiny little needle divots and cringed as I imagined bacteria being introduced into the soft fleshy part under his thumb nail. His thumb otherwise looked good – no mallet finger, no swelling – no blood under pressure that I could see.
I decided to do a little research on this issue, since all I’d ever done for a black and blue finger nail before is let nature take its course – it’s painful for a few days, the nail eventually falls off, and a new one grows.
However, in many cases creating a hole in the nail to let the blood escape can significantly relieve pain in the acute phase. Making the hole is tricky – it has to be large enough to let the blood out, and it has to be done with a sterile instrument so that bacteria are not introduced below the nail. Most physicians recommend a local anesthetic to ease the pain prior to making the hole. The hole can be made with a large bore needle (but you have to be careful not to place the needle in too deep) after swabbing with alcohol, or by burning through the nail with the tip of a paperclip that has been heated with a butane lighter. Creating the nail hole (known as trephination) is best done by a medical professional.
Routine antibiotic coverage is unnecessary. If the nail is loose, split, or a cut extends past the edge of the nail, the nail should be removed,
the cut closed with stitches, and the nail reapplied as a
dressing. It’s also important to make sure that the thumb bone is not fractured.
Bottom line: black and blue nails (subungual hematomas) are very painful and may be relieved by having a medical professional place a hole in the nail. But don’t try this at home, folks.This post originally appeared on Dr. Val’s blog at RevolutionHealth.com.
