Saturday I was on call, which consists of me hanging out in the ER admitting patients to the hospital. One of the patients I admitted came in because she had abdominal pain and pancreatitis, which x-ray showed to be from gall stones. "No big deal," we tell her, "We'll just admit you, get pancreas to cool off, and then we'll take your gall bladder out. You'll be out in a few days."
Sunday I came in to check on her, and her labs are screwy. She definitely has gall stones, but it looks like something else might be going on. "Probably not a big deal," we say, "but it's better to be safe than sorry." So we order a CT scan, and call it a day.
Yesterday we come in and take a look at the CT scan. Turns out that instead of a liver, this nice lady a huge blob of cancer. "Hey, remember how we thought we'd just take out your gall bladder?" we say to her, "Well, it turns out you're actually going to die. Soon." So instead of surgery, we're giving her medication to try and make her comfortable, and sending her home to enjoy what little time she has left.
I really hate Mondays.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
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