Nightmare on Ruairí Street…

I am typing this out for the second time… Thank you power outage!!!

Here goes my saga…

It all started Friday about noon. As I have said before, I have
several autoimmune diseases and live in constant, often mind-numbing
pain. The pain began to get bad, so I did what I always do. Took
meds. First Kadian, then Oxy IR, (Oxycodone), then injectable
Morphine, (not all at once, certainly. I don’t want to end up
dead!!!) I would have added steroids to the list, but I was out.
This occurred over the course of about eight hours. Around eight
fifteen, I was still getting worse. I rang my doc. He said what he
always says, “If it gets too bad, go into hospital.” He wanted me to
try taking another Morphine shot, which I did.

That seemed to help a teeny bit and I thought I’d get through it. By
five Saturday morning, however, I was not only back to where I was
when I called my doc, but worse…Much worse. I was losing
consciousness due to the pain.

I rang his office and told them I was going in. About four-six times
a year, I have, what us AI disease patients call a “flare” and I end
up in the E.R. The area hospitals know me and know my doc, so when I
am brought there, they know that I’m a legitimate chronic pain
patient, have a letter with my doc’s phone numbers and preferred
treatment instructions on file and they don’t bother me as they
otherwise might.

Then, I called my neighbour and kennel manager to come and stay with
Sabre and the other dogs. Why Sabre needs someone to watch him is for
another post. It depresses me, and I don’t want to think about that
right now…

I harness Keen, my GSD service dog, (no easy task when in pain), and
called for an ambulance. Then, I went to wait outside.

They responded promptly. I was surprised at that, but thankful that
they had responded to my non-emergency emergency. What I mean is, it
was a personal emergency, not a life threatening one, I’m thinking.

Any good feelings I had for them disappeared when they got out of the
vehicle. A man and a woman, both relatively young. The woman, I’m
thinking the senior of the two, said flatly that they were not taking
“that dog”.

I explained that Keen is a service animal and that the law requires
that he be allowed. She insisted that she would not “take that dog”.
I then asked for her name and information as I was fully intending on
reporting her. Her partner was trying to tell her that, yes, my dog
was allowed. She finally said, “I’ll call my supervisor”. I
responded with a curt, “You do that.”

The supervisor settled it. Dog allowed… Victory for Ruairí! Then,
she has the nerve to tell me that she has a Pit Bull, and, “…
although he’s not trained or anything. I know he won’t hurt me. I
don’t know about your dog…”

So, my Keen, who was *well trained*, *well groomed*, *appropriately
wearing a harness and I.D, even though it’s not required*, *not making
any aggressive motions whatsoever, even though he is cross-trained in
personal protection* and *sitting quietly at my side* scared her, but
her untrained dog doesn’t? Anyone see the logic in that?

She began to insist that I put Keen on a sit-stay while they load me
in. I refused. She then asked, “What? Will he bite me? Or does he
not know how to do an off-lead stay?” I said, “As to the first
question, not right now, (I was getting tetched), and as to the
second, he certainly does. My fear was that they’d leave him there
and drive off without him.

Keen and I were both finally loaded in and they began doing what
paramedics do best. She asked, “Is there any reason why your heart
rate would be so elevated and your blood pressure would be so high?”
To which I responded, “Yes, you trying to refuse my legitimate service
animal.”

I think she’d had enough with me then, because she let her partner
stay in the back with me while she drove. That suited me fine…

When we were almost to the hospital, she calls them to let them know
of our arrival. She proceeds to tell the E.R that I have “a service
pet”. What the hell is a “service pet”?

We get to the hospital and I get into a room. A very cool nurse comes
in and starts asking me the normal type medical questions. he was the
charge nurse, and we got to talking about dogs and dog training. I
have another client! He said “The doctor will be in shortly”.

Now, me having done this countless times before, I know that “shortly”
usually means in a few hours… I waited about an hour and a half
and… Finally, he arrived.

The first thing he does is comment on Keen. I say that yes, he may
pet him, as he was at rest and not working at the moment. Then, he
starts giving Keen commands! Annoying, that! Nobody, and I mean
*nobody*, commands my dog unless I am unconscious and unable to do so!

He says that he wants to take blood and run some labs and that he’ll
order me steroids and something for pain to be given IV.

Same nurse comes back in and starts the IV. With my steroid destroyed
veins, no easy task! Then, he takes the blood and gives me my
medications… Ok, one more thing over with. I ask him how long the
labs will take. He says “thirty to forty-five minutes”. I’m thinking
no big deal…

An hour later, he comes back in to tell me that my blood clotted, and
was therefore unuseable. Redraw… Can you say not a happy camper?

I wait… And wait… And wait some more…

The doc finally comes back in and tells me that my labs look “pretty
good”. What exactly does “pretty good” mean? He orders me yet
another pain shot, as the first shot of Dilaudid didn’t do much, (I
hate being opioid tolerant!), and says he’ll write me some scripts for
extra breakthrough pain medications and more steroids.

I wait and wait and wait some more… More dilaudid…

More waiting…

Nurse again, “Are you feeling better now?”

Me, “Not really.”

I wait some more… One more shot of Dilaudid. More steroids… Vallium.

I wait some more…

By now, I’m feeling fine… They finally come with my discharge
papers and Keen and I got to go home!

So, six and a half hours later, Keen and I ended up back on Ruairí
Street and Doggieville, with our own backyard for Keen to do his
toilet, which I’m sure he really needed to do by then!

So… The question is this… I have drafted a letter, which I was
planning to send to the ambulance corps. The letter explains exactly
what the laws are regarding service dogs here and how a patient should
be treated with a service dog… The “DOs” and “DON’Ts” of relating
to patients with SDs… Should I send it? I will provide the letter
if anyone would like to see it.

Even though they did end up transporting Keen, I feel that they
obviously need some education on the matter. Someone who is not as
vocal or as able as I am to stand up for him/herself, might not have
gotten on so well.

Comments?

Tags: Ambulance, Emergency Room, German Shepherd, hospitals, Medicine