“Last summer, the same thing happened.”
I move my stethoscope to his back to listen to his breath sounds. “Deep breath in,” I say softly, and he pulls one in before releasing it. “Did you wake up from that one fine?”
“Yup,” he says, before adding, “Well, except my left hand was pretty numb after that. Figured I fell on it.”
“How long did the numbness last?”
He shrugs. “I don’t remember. It was a long time ago.”
I move around to stand in front of him again, holding my arms out straight in front of me. “Hold your arms out like this. Try to keep them as steady as possible.” He does as I ask, and his arms look even. I have him do the same with his legs and test the weight of each by pushing down. “Has your wife ever said you’re talking funny? Slurring your words, having a hard time speaking? Or has she said your smile looks crooked?”
“No, not really. She’s said I’m funny looking though.” I catch the slight wink he sends to my tech as I stand up. “What medications are you taking?”
“None right now. My old Doc, before he retired, had me on some stuff for blood pressure. I took an orange pill every morning and a small white one at night.”
“But you don’t take them anymore?”
He shrugs. “Doc retired, they closed the clinic. I haven’t found a new one yet.”
“And how long ago was that?”
“About three years.”
“Three years?” I gasp, playfully propping my hands on my hips. “Harry, you’ve had plenty of time to find a new doctor.”
“I know. But I felt great, Doc. My energy is great, I sleep good. I don’t want to drive an hour into the city just to sit in the waiting room and have some doctor who looks like he’s still a kid tell me to take a bunch of pills.”
“Where do you live?”
“Eastridge, you heard of it?”
I shake my head no. “I’m learning some of the outside areas; I’m most familiar with Willow Creek and Copper Ridge.”
“Ah,” he says. “I’m about another ten miles past Copper Ridge.”
“Yikes. I’m sorry you had to drive all this way to be seen.”
He shrugs a shoulder nonchalantly.
“So, tell me about this headache. On a scale of one to ten, one being nothing and ten being the worst pain you’ve ever experienced, what would you rate it at?”
“Maybe a two.”
He came in with a significant headache, yet only rates his pain at a two. “Tell me, Harry, what did you do for work? A farmer?”
A smile brightens his face. “How did you know?”
I reach over to the hand sanitizer, pumping out a handful before rubbing it in my palms. “I’ve been learning that farmers, especially ones that live way out in the country, are some of the toughest people there are.”
He beams at my sentiment, opening his mouth to ask me something else before a knock on the wall sounds. I turn to see one of my fellow doctors, ushering with his head to a room down the hall. I had been so caught up in chatting with Harry that I forgot how swamped we’ve been. I hold up a finger, letting him know I’ll be just a minute, and I turn back to Harry. “Well, Harry, it could be a few things. For one, I’d like to keep you here for a few hours for observation. We’ll check all your labs and put you on telemetry so I can see if your heart isdoing anything funny. I’d also like to order a CT, as I’m wondering if you had a small stroke.”
He scoffs at that. “Wouldn’t I know if I had a stroke, Doc?”
“Maybe,” I offer. “Sometimes they can be so small they don’t leave any lingering effects. Has anyone used the term ‘TIA’ with you before?”
He thinks for a moment, furrowing his thick gray brows together. “I’m not sure. Maybe. But my memory isn’t what it used to be.”
“Let’s get an EKG right away before he’s placed on telemetry,” I tell the tech. “CT has been pretty backed up today, but you can hang out here, take a rest, we will run some tests and let you know when we’re ready for the CT.”
