Back in the slammer

Zora is back in the hospital.

She is in better hands now. When we left the last hospital, a doctor told us, off the record, “if I were you, I would leave this hospital and not come back to the doctors who are treating you.” Enough said.

Either the weird symptoms are caused by emboli or an immune system reaction. Emboli (things breaking off and potentially causing stroke) are unlikely, I think. As did the cardiologist yesterday. But the body’s anti-immune functions aren’t really a good option, either. The body should be clean after 2 weeks on hardcore antibiotics.

No matter, the doctors wanted her back in the hospital. There’s also the insurance issue. The doctors who are seeing her now are good. And they’re not normally covered by our insurance. But by her being admitted through the E.R.—and these doctors “claiming” her—the insurance can’t say no. But if she were to go in with a proper appointment, well, our insurance doesn’t cover these doctors. And I believe she’s now in good hands. These doctors have been recommended by a few independent sources.

The doctors say that if they can rule out emboli, then she could come back home again. Multiple emboli are an indication for (i.e.: reason to have) surgery.

Deb drove us to the hospital. The transit strike sucks. We were going to ride out bikes, but after suiting up, Zora vetoed the idea because the pain in her hand would be right where the handlebar is. I asked (seriously), “can’t you ride with one hand?”

Deb got us. Because I know some “back roads” to the Queensboro Bridge, the traffic wasn’t so bad. We got to E.R. around 5PM. The I.D. doctor actually met us in the E.R., which is highly unusual and to his credit. This hospital admission took about 8 hours. Better than the 12 from last time. But still… “my God!”

Deb said I looked very worried. Of course I am, but I said, “yeah, but really at this point I’m just frustrated.” It is frustrating. It must have taken poor Deb a long time to get back to Queens. The damn transit strike. Those workers on average get paid more than me. Fuck them.

Tamara drove Ali’s car out to pick me up. She was able to get to Manhattan (her boyfriend lives in the City). I was able to get back to Queens (it would have been about a 90 minute walk). And Ali was able to smoke some sheesha. And then Ali and I had a few drinks, which also helped matters. Thanks to everybody who helped.

Zora is now at Mt. Sinai. I can bike there in less than half an hour. It’s much better than Manhasset.

The sad part is that Zora does so well at home. When one doctor said she should go back to the hospital, she broke out in tears. The hospital is not a good place to recover. She does better at home.

So here is the new and current band: Dr. Matthew Ornstein on Rheumatology (that’s a new field); Dr. David Adams on Surgery; Dr. Jeff Gumprecht, the good doctor, on infectious disease, and on the heart, Dr. Eric Stern.

Zora is in Mt. Sinai Hospital (101st St. and Madison Ave.), room N8 217A.