Tales from the Emergency Room (6 page)

George said that he would drive behind us to the hospital since he was never very confident that my car would get us where we wanted to go. So, off we went, Peggy complaining that she guessed that she would miss our class Halloween costume party. She was admitted promptly, her doctor, the chief resident in OB-GYN was there and, once she was settled in, I left for the party in a room five stories below. Then I began going up and down (thank God for Mr. Otis) keeping a check on things. Between the peaches and eventually having been thrown up on it probably seemed as if I was in a costume, too. (On one of my visits to Peggy, she beckoned to me from the labor room doorway to come over to her in bed. I did, whereupon she threw up on me.)

Her labor continued and the party broke up. It looked as if we were not going to have a Halloween baby. When Peggy was taken into the delivery room, I stayed out at the desk. Several people called to see how things were coming along. About 1:00 AM, November 1, Peggy delivered our son weighing 9 pounds, 11 ounces and perfectly healthy. I called a buddy of mine, a classmate who, I knew would still be up, with the news, checked on my wife and son and went home to wash up. Eventually, I went to George’s apartment where we ate toast and blueberry jam and I tried to relax.

In those days, new mothers and babies were kept in the hospital for a few days, five in Peggy’s case, so, between my hospital duties and visiting my wife and son, I rarely went home. Since it was November in Rochester we had lots of snow by the time Billy and Peggy came home and we were able to start to adjust to a whole new life.

Shut up, Hilara

My mother, Hilara, came to help out with the new baby. She was stunned that we carried on around the baby in our usual way, talking, not whispering, walking around, not tiptoeing, having some music playing, fixing meals with the usual noise. This was not what she had done with her only child.

My father, George, arrived a few days later while Billy was having a nap. He tiptoed into the bedroom, whispering all the time, to see his new grandson. My mother said quite authoritatively, “It’s perfectly all right to make all the noise you want around the baby, George.” He looked over his shoulder and replied, “Shut up, Hilara.” This caused Peggy and me to burst out laughing because we knew that this would happen. As old school as they were about babies, they both eventually came around to being at ease with Billy. My father soon thought nothing of lifting him out of his crib so that Billy could continue his naps on his grandpa’s chest. Billy became his “Honey-man” since one could not possibly call a boy simply “Honey”.

A $25.00 Check

From the time I started college up until I got married, my father sent $25.00 each week for my living expenses. While he loved Peggy, he was not happy that we had gotten married while I was still in medical school. For some reason, he continued to pay for my books. But there were no more $25.00 checks, or tuition payments for that matter. Not too bad while Peggy was working, but we eventually did have to have a loan to finish school. About one week after Billy was born there arrived in the mail a check from my father for $25.00 and the checks continued every week until I graduated. The man was not about to be blamed for anything that Billy might lack. He never mentioned the checks to me and I never mentioned them to him. They did make life a bit easier for us.

A Big Baby

There were several new babies in our class. Billy was by far the biggest one. When the dean’s wife threw her annual lawn party, someone put an empty beer can in Billy’s hands to the amusement of the guests. I’m not sure his mother was amused, but she understood the joke!

Rabbi Hyman

My cousin Henry Hyman was chronically ill for several years. He would frequently find himself in Strong Memorial Hospital. One day a stranger appeared in his room and announced that he had come to see who the other Henry Hyman was. The stranger turned out to be a Rabbi and my cousin and he had a light-hearted conversation about the coincidence of their names.

The Aorta

Once again I am in the emergency room but this time I am still in medical school. I was in my junior year and I was actually on my way home after a day on the wards when I was, for all intents and purposes, snatched up and deposited in the main ER operating room. With only a little time to scrub, I was helped into a gown and gloved and masked. There were three others at the table, two residents and an attending surgeon. I was told to stand next to the attending and that I was in charge of “proximal control”. What this might be I had no idea. When I looked about I was now surrounded by tables full of sterile equipment. I was thoroughly trapped! The patient, by now already anesthetized had just arrived in the ER with a rupturing aorta. Even I knew this was not good.

Thankfully, the surgeon explained what I was to do when proximal control was necessary. At some point during the next few hours in order for me to perform “distal control” it became necessary for me to move to the other side of the surgeon. One of the nurses was ready to correct my turn so as to have the front of me always facing the sterile fields surrounding me. Many hours later the surgery was completed, the patient doing very well (he survived to continue his life with an aortic prosthesis in place) and I was preparing to leave. A resident suggested that I do a blood volume study on the patient before I left. Since I had never done such a thing and since I was half dead by now, I simply refused and left.

Thinking that I would no longer be attending medical school for being insubordinate, I went home and went to sleep. In the morning, I got ready to take a bath—our apartment lacked a shower—and as I did so I put my hand into the water to test its temperature. I let out a yelp, not because the water was too hot but because all of my fingertips were painful and burning which was made worse by the heat of the water. It took a while for it to dawn on me that there had been little vacuums in the finger tips of my sterile gloves and that blood had pooled in the tips of my fingers making them excruciatingly sensitive. During the day the sensation wore off, I wasn’t dismissed from my medical studies and I decided that surgery was not for me.

Vaginal Bleeding

Once again I was in the ER at night, trying to get a little sleep when I was called out to see a young woman with vaginal bleeding. I examined her as thoroughly as I knew how and didn’t find anything wrong with the lady. The on-call attending was a woman who graciously came to the hospital to see the patient. With me at her side, she did another pelvic and abdominal exam and asked a few questions. The patient, it turned out, had had her first baby at about age 13 before her first menstrual bleeding occurred and had nursed all of her babies. This then, was her first normal menstrual period! Another excellent lesson for me about how essential a good medical history is.

The Glasses

It used to bother me when my wife and I were dating that she rarely wore her glasses. At the movies, for example, she would put them on but soon would put them back in her pocketbook. I finally gave up trying to get her to use them until after we were married when I suggested that she have her eyes checked in ophthalmology. The chief of the department did her exam. Now, her parents had spent a fair amount of money on Peggy’s glasses when money was not in abundance. The doctor asked her after his exam if she had her glasses with her. When she produced them, the doctor took them and tossed them in the waste basket! It turned out, of course, that she had not needed glasses in the first place. When informed of this finding, I did not say, “I told you so”, and, to her credit, Peggy did not use this line on me either.

Discrimination?

For many years, perhaps from its inception, my medical school had classes of about 70 students. Almost every class I am told, including mine, had two female students and one minority student. Eventually, I guess, the State of New York took a look at this arrangement and decided that a more equitable setup should prevail. For all I know, there might have been financial consequences if changes were not made. Today, each class has about 50% women and many minority and foreign students. And, I have always been amused by the fact that the top two students in my class were the two ladies, who, I am sure, turned out to be terrific doctors.

Some Dear Friends

In the years since college my wife and I have spent many happy hours with the Powells.

Bill is a college and medical school classmate of mine and Peggy and Sally are good friends. Since we had no money, entertainment consisted of playing bridge at someone’s house and sipping wine coolers (cheap). First we had to learn how to play bridge however, so the Powells and my wife and I taught ourselves. Hilarious! Then, we would get together with others and we would all have our babies with us. There was constant jumping up and down from the tables to see to it that the babies were not too warm or too cold This was accompanied by opening and closing the bedroom window, each mother having a different idea of the ideal temperature. What fun we had.

Then there was the trip to the wine country south of Rochester in the Finger Lakes Region. Though each winery had strict limits on samples we would manage to get a slight buzz on for free while winery hopping.

And there was a wonderful trip to Nantucket with the Powells. We rode bikes, visited the lighthouses, ate as inexpensively as we could. We stayed in one room in a motel. This required one or the other couple to take an occasional nocturnal stroll. When it came time to go home to Rochester, we discovered that we had enough money among us to get off the Island and to buy gas but not to buy food. So, we found a UofR alumnus who agreed to have the four of us to dinner, and then we went on our way. On the ride home with Sally asleep in the back seat we stopped to spend the last of our change on ice cream cones. Sally woke up while we were driving along having our treats and was quite put out. To this day she still bristles when reminded of our nighttime treachery.

After one trip which we took in Bill’s car because of the sad condition of mine, my car broke down between the Powells’ place and ours. It was 4:00 AM and Peggy was pregnant. Luckily it was summertime. There we were right in front of Wuzzy’s Bar and Grill. (I kid you not.) So I called Bill to relate our plight and to solicit help. Since he thought it was a joke, I had to put Wuzzy himself on the phone interrupting his cleaning up duties. Even then Bill didn’t believe me but came to rescue us just in case, looking out for Peggy most likely. Another story that causes much amusement when we get together now.

Cows and Horses

The Powells had a pretty little daughter, Suzie. Our children went everywhere with us because babysitters cost money. In those days we would drive to see our friends or relatives. We passed many farm animals on these trips and for some perverse reason I thought it would be fun to teach Suzie that cows were horses and vice versa. It was easy to do and no one seemed to object until it became obvious that Suzie did actually have them mixed up. Eventually of course she found out which was which. We have kept up with Suzie, her family and career over the years and whenever we are together the cows and horses story comes up, to the befuddlement of Suzie’s husband. Didn’t seem to harm her development at all since she has a highly successful career and lovely family.

Penzoil

Sally Powell is a stunning redhead. After graduation, Bill and Sally decamped for Cleveland. We kept in close touch and visited as often as we could, as we still do. One day, I was thumbing through an issue of Look Magazine when, to my amazement, I came across a full page picture of Sally in a Penzoil ad. It turned out that Sally had gone to an agency in Cleveland with the idea of seeing if she could get some modeling work. She had absolutely no training or experience for this in her background. She instantly landed the Penzoil assignment. Bill was not happy and indicated that it would be best if Sally stayed home and tended to the kids. As far as I know, that was the beginning and the end of a promising career.

Some Vegetation

Four couples met for dinner one night. Three couples knew Peggy and me but did not know one another. It fell to me to introduce the Roots to the Weeds and the Branches. A real ice-breaker.

Thirty-two Girls

A medical student I knew about in school was a sperm donor. He eventually got married and had three children, all girls. Wondering whether he and his wife should try once more for a boy, he went to the professor who had been in charge of the sperm bank hoping to find out if he was able to sire males. Of course, he had signed papers of confidentiality so the professor was not happy about this request for information But, I suppose the professor was curious, too, so he did look up the man’s records. Our donor had had thirty-two girls. That was the end of his hopes for a boy.

Hunderful Wunny

The period leading up to the Intern Matching Program results was a stressful one. I knew where I wanted to do my internship and, contrary to the rules, I had been given a fairly good idea that I would be accepted there. (Getting to the interview at Ninth Avenue and 59th Street in Manhattan had been daunting in itself, made worse by several unsuccessful attempts to cross Ninth Avenue without getting killed.) I was treated with the utmost consideration and was impressed with the committee members, all senior attendings, the paneled conference room and especially with the resident assigned to escort me around the hospital. His best moment came when he showed me the bullet hole in the screen door of the emergency room. The Roosevelt Hospital it seemed was in a very rough neighborhood.

Eventually the assignment results arrived on intern matching day and I had obtained a position at Roosevelt. I called my wife at home immediately. So excited was she that she exclaimed, “Hunderful wunny, hunderful wunny!” I knew what she meant and that she shared my excitement. I spent four years at The Roosevelt Hospital and then joined the attending staff. It was a very exciting and rewarding time of my life.