Mason is okay. Or will be. Close to 6 hours after my husband and I first left our home to go get him a quick check-up, we rolled back into our driveway with exactly the information we had deduced on our own before leaving. Mason has a broken rib. There is nothing he can do but wait for it to heal. Not a damn thing wrong with his head, which is what we told all these doctors that I mentioned in my previous post.
The doctors were all worried about head trauma and we spent hours waiting for tests and results based on what they thought they saw in Mason's eyes. What they probably saw were the googly eyes of a man who hadn't slept for more than 24 hours because of the pain in his ribs. At that point, they weren't letting us leave, and the fast track they started us on, had slowed to a crawl.
When we finally got the news that his head was okay, we were relieved, but also annoyed because we both knew he wasn't acting in any way like his marbles had come loose. Then Mason got dressed and we waited for the doctor to come back and release us. And waited. And waited. And waited a little longer. It was a good hour-and-a-half of sitting in the examination room waiting for the doctor to return with a prescription for pain pills so we could go home.
When we finally got the prescription and exit paperwork to check out of the hospital, we were more than ready to leave. Not much after we returned home, as I was walking the poor dog who had been locked up all day, I realized that, even with insurance, we had just paid more than $140 for a lousy 10 inexpensive, generic pain pills. After almost 6 hours of tension and stress and poking and prodding, the doctor provided enough pain pills to last 2-1/2 days for a broken bone that would take weeks to repair itself.
So we'll both just have to deal with his suffering as it comes - the American health care system at it finest.
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| Not a happy camper |
The doctors were all worried about head trauma and we spent hours waiting for tests and results based on what they thought they saw in Mason's eyes. What they probably saw were the googly eyes of a man who hadn't slept for more than 24 hours because of the pain in his ribs. At that point, they weren't letting us leave, and the fast track they started us on, had slowed to a crawl.
When we finally got the news that his head was okay, we were relieved, but also annoyed because we both knew he wasn't acting in any way like his marbles had come loose. Then Mason got dressed and we waited for the doctor to come back and release us. And waited. And waited. And waited a little longer. It was a good hour-and-a-half of sitting in the examination room waiting for the doctor to return with a prescription for pain pills so we could go home.
When we finally got the prescription and exit paperwork to check out of the hospital, we were more than ready to leave. Not much after we returned home, as I was walking the poor dog who had been locked up all day, I realized that, even with insurance, we had just paid more than $140 for a lousy 10 inexpensive, generic pain pills. After almost 6 hours of tension and stress and poking and prodding, the doctor provided enough pain pills to last 2-1/2 days for a broken bone that would take weeks to repair itself.
So we'll both just have to deal with his suffering as it comes - the American health care system at it finest.
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