Being on call for our university-affiliated nursing home this week has been an interesting introduction to doctoring. On Thursday morning, I was paged for the following question:"Mr. W. is having some new left-sided chest pain. He thinks he's having a heart attack and he'd like to take an aspirin. Can we give him aspirin?" There's a pause while I reflect momentarily on the insane conversation I'm having.
"Okay," I say to the nurse on the phone. "Aspirin is fine." And I'm thinking, she can't be serious.
"Well, what dose of aspirin would you like us to give him?"
WAIT, she IS serious.
"Do YOU think Mr. W. is having a heart attack?" I ask her.
"I don't know," she says, sounding disinterested. And I'm thinking, aren't you CURIOUS? I sure as hell am.
"Let's get an EKG," I suggest.
"I don't know," she says, dubious. "We'd have to send him to [our university hospital] for that."
WHAAA?
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