| July 29, 2007 |
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FIFTH FLOOR CLUB MED SERVES PEPTO COCKTAILS - COURTESY OF THE PARIS NEWS |
Editorial by Phillip Hamilton |
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I don’t recommend it, but no one serves up a better liquid steak than LaTonya, who works on the fifth floor Club Med at Paris Regional Medical Center’s south campus. LaTonya’s liquid steaks are wonderful because every one of them comes with side dishes of pleasant attitude and enthusiasm topped with a great big smile.
I know about LaTonya’s liquid steak because I “ate” a lot of them this week. Although the entrée is identified on the Club Med liquid diet menu as beef broth, it was LaTonya who made it steak with the cheerful attitude she displayed.
When I wasn’t pouring down one of LaTonya’s liquid steaks this week, I often could be found accepting pink cocktails of the Pepto variety from Brittany, Dale or Kasey, nurses on the Club Med staff. No matter what time of day or night it was, all I had to do was push the little red button and they were in my room pouring another little cup of the pink stuff Doc Gordon Strom had so strongly recommended. They also brought a lot of little white pills that magically made my daily headaches go away.
Club Med wasn’t on my schedule this week, but there was no arguing when the Lord decided to rearrange my plans and give me the opportunity to meet the wonderful staff on the fifth floor and elsewhere on PRMC’s south campus.
It all began Monday with a headache, something all too common for this stressed-out managing editor. But the headache didn’t go away and soon there were lots of other aches and pains.
By early Tuesday morning I was tossing my toenails and spending more time in the bathroom than in my bed. I was pretty sure I had one of those disruptive 24-hour bugs — no, I don't mean a cricket. Being sick for even a day wasn’t what I needed this week. While I stayed in bed, my staff picked up the slack, and what an outstanding job they did. Did you miss me? I didn’t think so.
A full day into what I thought was a bug thing, I wasn’t getting any better. But Doc Strom and other regular docs had already left their offices and were making evening rounds before heading home. So, I asked my wife to drive me to Salas Minor Emergency Clinic. I must have really been out of my head by then because I let HER drive. I never do that. It’s a man thing, you know.
The nurse at the clinic gets my Best Stick Award for her soft touch with the dreaded needle. Although everything hurt by now, I was surprised when the clinic doc said my white blood cell count and fever were high enough I needed to head on over to the ER at PRMC. I let HER drive again.
Remember that game Rock, Paper Scissors? They sort of have to play that game at the ER. A fractured hand beats poison ivy, my abdominal pain and high white blood cell count beats a fractured hand and a heart attack beats, well, everything. I’m glad they took the heart attack victim right in, and I apologize to the lady who kept saying, “I just need a Cortisone shot.” I hated to butt in line.
Even in my sad state of health I couldn’t help but chuckle at my encounter with Frieda in Admitting, who proclaimed to a co-worker, “This is Mr. Hamilton. He’s the managing editor of the newspaper. We got ourselves almost a celebrity here.” Her handling of my induction into Club Med was encouraging. I can only imagine what kind of welcome Elvis would have received.
ER Doc Hobbs and ER nurse Susan offered excellent care for a couple of hours, but those pink Pepto cocktails served on the fifth floor tasted much better than that citrus milkshake I was offered before they rolled me to X-ray for a CAT scan.
No cats were found, but the party pics showed one nasty colon — my ticket into the fifth-floor Club Med. About 3 a.m. I was being welcomed to the party. In no time the nursing staff had me in a room and had some joy juice pumping into my arm. They even gave me an armband for free refills. All I had to do was give my name and birthdate each time.
It didn’t know I was on the extended stay plan or I would have brought some clothes. I’m not saying Club Med is a wild place, but they gave me a dress that tied in the back and told me to wear it. After a couple of days, I got used to it.
After lots of pink Pepto cocktails and Doc Strom got a good blood count, he told me Friday my ticket had expired. My three-day visit was over. A nurse tickled my toes to make sure everything was OK, gave me a couple of complimentary bottles of pink Pepto cocktail and gave me a ride down to the parking lot.
PRMC fifth floor Club Med: The cost? Probably too expensive. The smiles and service? Priceless.
Phillip L. Hamilton is managing editor of The Paris News and looks really ugly in a hospital gown.
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Paris, Texas 75460
