Nuisance Illnesses (Andrew)

Colds are nuisance illnesses for most of my patients; they rarely see me for "little" colds. They just sip tea, stay at home, and deal with it because viruses cannot be cured with antibiotics. Note how I said "most" of my patients, which represents "most" people. For Caitlin, there is no such thing as a little cold.

Steve, my longtime friend, called me again telling me that Caitlin had more seizures, is having difficulty breathing despite having used her inhaler multiple times, and that he is on the verge of freaking out. Frankly, I was too, but I had to keep a brave face for my other patient. She was in for a routine well check. I realized that I had left him hanging for too long, but my friend needed me.
          "Well, what are you doing standing around? Get her to the hospital!"
          "Um...she might panic and her breathing will get worse..."
          "I'll call a specialized nurse to make her more comfortable. We don't want to repeat last time.... Anyway, I hope all goes well. I have to get back to my other patient." I hung up. Jenny Albright, my patient, told me about the crick in her neck from her office job. I advised her to sit further from the screen and use the zoom function on her word processor and referred her to a masseuse. Other general practitioners would have referred her to a chiropractor, which would leave Jenny wasting her hard earned gold ingots on unnecessary medical testing. I'm not in the medical field for money.

I sipped my coffee and saw another patient, Mark Navoa. He saw me for the recurrent cramps in his hands. Focal dystonia, what Mark has, is not uncommon in musicians, especially professionals that practice for hours at a time. I found the problem in his breathing and posture. He looked at me in disbelief, but he felt somewhat relieved to not have to go to a musculoskeletal specialist. What shocked me, however, was this concern of his.
            "I'm worried about Steve". As his stand partner in the Minecraft Symphony Orchestra, he probably notices Steve's health fluctuations without identifying them as such. He possibly notices the subtle changes I don't, so this caught my attention.
            "Why? You can tell me. I'm his doctor and we're also good friends."
            "Well, he forgot to oil his valves, forgot his music, seems to be more frazzled than usual, snapped at his students twice in one class period, had to vomit twice during an hour-long piece, and is going sharp on everything. I'd say this is unusual, even for your average band director with a sick girlfriend, wife, or whatever Caitlin is." Now that I think about it, it is not uncommon for Steve to rush into the doors of Mindcrack with a half-eaten strip of bacon dangling from his mouth, messy hair, and a disorganized music folder. I wasn't sure if this state was brought on by the stresses of being a teacher or something more. He called again.
           "She's in the ICU, intubated, and awake. It's horrible, just plain horrible. She just wrote 'Make it stop'. I'm not sure what to do at this point." He spoke shakily. I hung up and called Natalie, the learning disability liaison nurse at Grass Block Hospital.
           "Hi, Natalie. Can you see a patient, Caitlin Netherfield? She is in the ICU in Bed 3B."
           "Dr. Lai, I can't. I don't see any documentation of a learning disability on her medical records. Plus, I'm seeing another patient" I hung up and got back to Mark.
           "I'm sorry for the inconvenience. People are hard to deal with." Since Mark was due for a blood test, I referred him to a phlebotomist. He obliged and, when his appointment ended, he had one last statement.
           "I understand. By the way, tell Steve and Caitlin 'Hi' from the Minecraft Symphony Orchestra. We miss our first trumpet and third clarinet."
           "I will do that." As my last patient walked out the door, I ran in a full sprint towards Grass Block Hospital. I was out of breath and drenched in sweat when I arrived, so I washed myself in the sink and donned some scrubs. Then, I made a "mad dash" to the ICU. I stopped at the desk of a nurse and signed in. It looked like a chicken wrote it, but I needed to make sure Caitlin was okay if Natalie didn't bother to check.

What I saw shocked me. It's one thing to see a patient intubated, but it's another to see your best friend on the verge of crying while his girlfriend is intubated and in distress. Caitlin had a variety of devices in and on her body. She wore her usual mint blouse and a diaper, which looked like it had been used. She wrote something down on her whiteboard and showed it to Steve. He obliged and called a nurse. Presumably upon Caitlin's request, the staff erected a privacy screen. When the screen vanished, Caitlin turned to Steve, wrote something else, and pointed to me.
           "What are you doing here? Don't you have patients to see?" Steve looked at me bewildered.
           "You have been diagnosed with distress and grief. I prescribed the presence of a friend." Caitlin drew a smiley face on her whiteboard, then erased it and drew some music notes, a mouth, and wrote "Everything's Alright" in quotes.
           "All right, but I'm not any good." Steve sang her request. His voice was soft, yet it was warm, rich, and carried through the unit along with his genuine love. I watched and my eyes welled up. For the first time, I did not fight the feeling. I cried. "...But I don't mind. If you're with me, then everything's alright." Caitlin wrote "I would kiss you if I didn't have a tube down my throat. Thank you."

To that I replied "The doctor is right with you". For the first time since today, amid the chaos in the background, everything was alright.