This will be a rare missive in the first person for me, but it’s the only way I can do justice in recounting a journey of both woe and exhilaration. Mine is a tale of our community’s heroic first responders, our truly fine hospital and the caregivers who make it work so well, the excruciating pain and suffering for me that caused all our paths to meet, and lessons learned. I only ask at the outset that you forgive some of the medical details that no doubt some would rather skip over, but it makes the story complete.
At the same time, I fully and humbly recognize that my experience comes not even close to the harsh and often tragic turns of events that have presented themselves in our Riverhead Town world of medical care. But sharing what I went through is the best way I’m able to explain the quality of the humanism, professionalism and dedication I’ve witnessed.
For several years now, I have volunteered as a counselor at Camp Good Grief, where sports and games are mixed with art therapy, music therapy and counseling for kids ranging in age from 4 to 17 who have recently lost a loved one and struggle to cope at a young age. I wrote about the awesome experience of volunteering at Camp Good Grief a while back. (See: “Good grief: Local day camp offers kids a safe place to learn to cope with death,” Oct. 24, 2016.) From when I wrote that till now, it has changed only in that more kids attend but fewer adults volunteer to help. It is, I believe, among the most rewarding ways to help change this world for the better.
In any event, this year’s Camp Good Grief was held during what turned out to be a very hot weather week. The shortage of volunteers caused some of the group counselors such a myself to help out earlier and later in the day, directing the school bus traffic and helping parents or surviving family members to drop off and pick up their kids. So I was doing that plus serving as one of several adult counselors for our group of a dozen, grieving 6-7 year olds. And all along, even before during the summer, I was unwittingly aggravating a health situation we are all warned about. But still, every minute of it was energy, sadness and joy.
Back home, in the middle of the night that weekend after camp ended, out of nowhere, I was crawling on the floor, writhing with the worst abdominal pain in my life. It went on for hours, and got worse. My wife Barbara finally dialed 911 for the ambulance, and in literally a couple of minutes the heroes arrived, first from the Jamesport FD, then the Riverhead PD and the Riverhead Volunteer Ambulance Corps.
They filled the room with an air of calm and purpose. Their questions to my family and me when I could answer were briefly worded, yet probing, learning all background info while carefully taking blood pressure, blood samples, heart readings from their EKG, and more – an amazingly short time of jam-packed multi-tasking.
For me, the pain let up enough that I could be moved into the ambulance at the end of our driveway, but once we set out for the hospital, a 10-minute or so ride from Jamesport, the pain came back with a vengeance.
When you think of it, the Riverhead Ambulance Corps, most volunteers, take their lives in their hands just with driving us to the hospital. And all through the trip, they tend to the patient-passenger with an experienced, old-fashioned bedside manner so rare among providers.
Riverhead’s Peconic Bay Madical Center was busy enough for a Sunday morning, but they received us with immediate attention and concern. After more testing, it turned out I was seriously dehydrated and had a kidney stone to show for it. There was a possibility of going into shock, owing to how much inside of me was shutting down from dehydration.
Every nurse, resident, orderly, and technician busily tending to me and others was immensely helpful and comforting. With their careful attention, I was there for the whole day getting stabilized. IV fluids somewhat restored hydration, but the kidney stone was something they said I had to try to pass on my own.
Once home, I got an early appointment with a urologist, a private practitioner who is part of the Northwell Health network of which PBMC is also a member. This is a distinct advantage for our medical facilities to be part of Northwell.
Though a corporate giant, and the largest, private employer in N.Y. State, they connect well to patients of all backgrounds. There’s one service that they provide where they arrange for you as an outpatient to see a specialist early, instead of waiting for weeks because you are a new patient. PBMC’s connection to Northwell is in many ways a distinct advantage for all of us in this great town.
So here the urologist, also an excellent professional, confirms to me that, while taking some medication, the passing of the stone was something I would have to deal with. Back at home, between bouts of crawling again on the floor in pain, I decided to push back. No more Mr. Nice Guy, squirming in agony while the kidney stone took its time, and we just have to wait.
So outside I went to the backyard chinning bar, the one my son (when he’s home) and I share. Hanging from it, I did some modified leg raises and twists, went back in the house for the next painful episode, and when it eased, out again to hang and twist some more from the bar. Now I don’t recommend this for everyone with the acute misery of a kidney stone, but it worked for me. I pulverized that sucker – turned it into sand.
Would the stone have dissolved anyway? Maybe. But the doctor said exercise and movement (though I doubt he envisioned how I would take that advice) would help it to pass, and I think at least my approach helped. What counts is that the terrible pain was gone in a couple of days, and I had taken no worrisome painkillers.
Lessons learned: stay hydrated. I came to appreciate this the hard way, how you put yourself at risk with the hidden consequences of dehydration. The younger generations are superbly attuned to this, but older folk like myself easily neglect drinking enough water.
I also learned that our volunteer ambulance people are the best – the very best.
Then there’s Peconic Bay Medical Center, where I also just had long-scheduled knee surgery a week after the ER experience. There again, everyone, from the remarkably gentlemanly senior volunteers in their blue blazers, who welcome and guide every hospital visitor, to their black-shirted volunteers, the patient care and nursing staff, to the surgeons and anesthesiologists and all the technicians — literally everyone on staff there, treat you exceptionally well. They are consistently in good spirits, contagious and uplifting. PBMC also has a cutting-edge concept put into practice: a support center, just off the main lobby, for the great number of people who care at home for a sick or disabled family member or friend (See: “In 2019 caregivers need not go it alone,” Dec. 30, 2018.)
Having had experience with other hospitals, both civilian and military, not only as a patient but also as a legal advisor and in other capacities, I see PBMC at the top of the charts. A blessing to our town they certainly are.
Above all, and year-round, be sure to make water your best friend.
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