More Waiting, Some Brief Miscommunication and Urgent Care Cuts Me Loose

So Sib4 arrives. At this point I've been at the urgent care center five or six hours, so I give her the rundown on the morning (see prior posts). Her bemused "here we go again" reaction* and the gallows humor that punctuates is perfect. Exactly what I need.

What I don't need, however, is an apparent treatment plan dispute between Group Health and Virginia Mason which I learn the PA has been arguing on my behalf. The next step in my treatment plan is to be a colonoscopy to confirm the findings of the CT scan. Because I'm a Type 1 diabetic now getting doses of morphine to control the pain in my abdomen, Group Health thinks I'd be better served to have the colonoscopy managed as an inpatient procedure. Virginia Mason, however, is of the opinion that this would be better handled on an outpatient basis as is typical. Happily for me, VM eventually concedes and GH secures their approval to have me sent to the hospital to be admitted. 

The PA comes in to report the news...

PA: OK, VM's agreed to admit you so we're calling an ambulance to have you taken over. 
Me: What? Wait. Why are you calling an ambulance?
PA: We need the ambulance to take you to their facility.
Me: But you had me call a family member to give me a ride. Why did I call Sib4 if you have to send me in an ambulance? Can't she just take me over?
PA: Let me go talk to some folks.

We're told it'll take thirty or so minutes to get the paperwork sorted regardless, so I send Sib4 to my condo to grab the essentials I'll need for a hospital stay: phone charger, iPad, and iPad charger. 

Five minutes later the PA comes in with the envelope with my transfer paperwork and let's me know I'm good to have Sib4 take me over to the hospital. So I do what any sane person would do under the circumstances: I bolt. 

The receptionist stops me on the way out the door to ask if I have someone to escort me, but when I tell her my sibling's outside she let's me go. It's now been seven hours since I walked into the urgent care center. I'm standing on the street with a giant envelope full of papers and an IV hanging from my arm, but at least I'm outside. 

Now I just have to find Sib4. 


* What I don't realize at the time is that Sib4 is much more clued in than I am, and she already knows I'm in big trouble. She's recently completed her own treatment for breast cancer, and spent a ton of time Googling during the final stages of Mum's lung cancer. At this point, Sib4 is an expert cancer patient. So while no health care provider has set spoken the word "cancer" aloud -- and won't for a few more days -- Sib4 already knows I've joined her in the cancer club.