It’s no secret I’m a fan of Grey’s Anatomy. It’s my favourite show.
And I live in this delusional little world where I think if it happened on Greys that means it could happen. I also happen to think watching every season multiple times makes me just as much a doctor as the Seattle Grey residents, and therefore able to diagnose my children when needed.
Whilst this is obviously a worthwhile skill (and much easier than 12 years of Med school: what are people thinking????) it does mean that occasionally I jump to some rather random conclusions.
Like on Friday afternoon when Taylah was complaining of being unwell for the fifth day. Experience told me it wasn’t a virus. Taylah is the healthiest of all my kids, so of she has something the others will get it, and probably far worse. The fact that everyone else was fine suggested that something else was going on, and so, taking the Greys Anatomy leap, I decided that the pimple on her lip that hasn’t cleared for a month must be melanoma. A perfectly logical explanation when you considered what happened to Izzy.
Saturday morning dawned and Tay was still complaining of her abdo pain (abdo being the short form of abdomen which we doctors *insert snort here* use.) She was holding her left side and my years of
medical training Greys Anatomy fanaticism kicked in and I thought ‘appendix!’
I palpated the region gently, and asked her if it hurt more when I touched it or let go. ‘When you let go,’ she said.
‘Ah,’ I thought knowingly. Classic rebound pain. A definite characteristic of appendicitis.
Being the devoted mother/medical genius that I am, I trotted her off to the doctor who recognized my expertise (‘you’re obviously quite observant’) and said that while he thought it might be the issue, there wasn’t enough pain to warrant visiting ED just yet.
That was until Taylah mentioned that she had not been to the toilet for the last 36 hours, which is not fantastic in any climate but particularly our hot, humid one.
Armed with DS, colouring in and my book, we arrived at
Seattle Grace Royal Darwin Hospital, where by some miracle we were taken straight in and seen in about 15 minutes.
I was, I admit it, a little surprised that the doctors there had no knowledge of who I was, and, even more surprising, did not seem to bow down to my awesomeness of diagnosis. (Yes I realise that sentence made no sense.)
Instead they decided to ignore my brilliance, treat the dehydration and decide it was a urinary tract infection.
And then it wasn’t.
No, it was constipation, give the child an enema.
Still pain? Hmm, that mustn’t be the problem then. Maybe we should speak to the surgeon.
I was excited. Greys is all about the surgeons. They make quick decisions and are attractive. It’s not Hollywood, it’s science.
Surgeon one did not disappoint. Whilst not fitting in to the category of ‘eye candy’ he decided after all of two seconds ‘it’s appendicitis.’
The poor ED doctor looked completely embarrassed, but I gave him my most sympathetic look. He needed it. He obviously was trying to be as cool as Mc Dreamy with his hair, and long-sleeved tee under his scrubs; he just wasn’t quite pulling it off.
Then Surgeon 2 arrived. An older man, looking like he had seen a lot more GA episodes than me. He wasn’t convinced. He thought it was entirely possible she had had appendicitis, but that it was now resolving itself.
He decided a night on the ward would be the best move forward; observation and extra fluids could only help.
Whilst they prepared a room I was left to ponder whether romantic liaisons on the on call room were an actual fact of life, or just Hollywood dramatization. Considering the way blonde doctor was flirting with McDreamy wannabe, and his careless indifference, I decided not.
Perhaps real life is not Greys Anatomy after all.
To be continued….