This past week, I found myself in the throws of one of the worst head colds I’ve had in quite some time. I don’t get sick easily; all the years of working in hospitals has made my immune system pretty tough, so when I do get sick, it’s usually something major. I had been a little congested for a few days, but woke up one morning with an excruciating sore throat that made it nearly impossible to swallow. My primary care physician didn’t have an opening for me that day and I simply couldn’t wait to get some relief so off I went to the local urgent care clinic in town.
I got in almost immediately and saw the nurse practitioner. She was great. Very kind, very thorough, and very sympathetic to my pain. My rapid strep test came back negative (surprisingly) as did the influenza test, so she didn’t want to prescribe antibiotics but, rather, manage my symptoms. That made sense to me. All I really wanted was some relief from the throat pain.
I picked up the prescription for viscous lidocaine, which did help the sore throat but tasted like motor oil, and stayed in bed for the next two days.
I started to feel like I was getting better but three days later, not only was my sore throat back with a vengeance, but now my right ear felt like someone was sticking knives in it. My husband said I turned an eerie shade of white and insisted we get back to the urgent care right away. I didn’t argue.
We arrived 10 minutes prior to closing time and the receptionist told us they weren’t taking any more patients. I told her I had been there a few days ago and my symptoms had gotten worse. She apologized and said we could either come back in the morning or go to the Emergency Department tonight. The ED for a sore throat? No way.
I was contemplating how many boxes of popsicles to buy to hold me over to the morning when my husband suggested the urgent care about a half an hour away, which was open later. As much as I’m a fan of continuity of care, I knew there weren’t enough popsicles in the whole town to get me through the night so off we went.
The other urgent care center doesn’t look like much from the road, but inside it’s quite lovely. The receptionist was very nice, as was the tech who took my vitals, but the real star was the nurse practitioner. Her main concern was getting me some immediate relief, especially after she learned that I’d been suffering for nearly a week. She gave me a steroid, decadron, along with an antibiotic for the ear infection I’d developed. By the time I picked up a box of popsicles at the grocery down the street, I was feeling 100% better.
I slept better that night than I had in several days and the pain in my throat never returned. It was amazing. That shot of decadron may have been slightly outside the usual course of treatment, but it was exactly what I needed.
I’m not saying anything bad about the nurse practitioner at the first center; she did exactly what she should have. No antibiotics for a virus, I get it. But when it comes to relieving suffering, the second center knew just what to do.
Incidentally, I asked them how close to closing time they stop seeing patients. The tech said they don’t turn anyone away if they get there before 7pm. Even if it’s 6:59, if they need care, they get it that night. Admittedly, it can get a little tough on staff who are eager to get home after a 10-hour day, but the mission, the reason they’re there, is what keeps them going. They know they are there to help. And they did.