I had a woman brought to me because she couldn’t get off of her toilet.

“Because of a bomb?” I asked but no, instead she was just too weak.  Too weak all over.  It had actually started about a month ago, and she had fallen then and fell a week ago and fell last night, all because her legs kept giving out on her.  And tonight she had managed to plop down on the toilet but when she was done she found that she was just too weak to get up.  She called for her husband, who had helped her up all those other times, but this time he couldn’t overcome her weakness, and instead called for an ambulance.  The medics came and hoisted her up and saw the toilet bowl full of blood beneath her and shortly thereafter she was a patient in my ER.

So I knew what was wrong before I ever saw her.  She was a GI bleed, from hemorrhoids or diverticulosis or cancer or something, and now I’m on autopilot as I scribble out her orders: 2 IV’s, fluids, NG lavage, foley, blood tests.

She looks pretty good, I note, as I walk in the room to meet her.  Her heart rate’s slightly up in the 90’s, but her blood pressure is good and her color is good and she looks good — an overweight 70ish female in no apparent distress.

I asked her a few questions while going through a cursory exam.  Blood thinners?  No.  When did the bleeding start?  I didn’t know I was until tonight I don’t really look.  Have you ever had a colonoscopy before?  I think several years ago I don’t remember anything being wrong.

The last part of the exam, the rectal, shows brown stool that is guaiac positive.  You’ll need to be admitted to the hospital, I tell her as I’m leaving, and we’ll know more after your tests come back in a couple of hours.

I manage other stuff for awhile and then revisit her, double-clicking next to her name to get the results of her blood tests.  A three gram drop in her hemoglobin from a fairly recent visit makes it likely that the blood loss is the cause of her weakness.  Electrolytes look ok, kidney function a little worse but to be expected, coags and platelets fine, but I scroll again to the top.  A white count of 34,000?  What is that all about?  Blood cultures are drawn and she gets some antibiotics in antipication of the infection I figure I’ll find in her urine but it comes back normal.  And so does her chest xray.

At this point I really just want to call up the hospitalist and admit her.  There’s no reason why they can’t take over from here.  But I hold off.  I’m missing something and I feel compelled to at least talk to her again. 

So some new questions.  Any fever?  No.  Symptoms of infection?  No.  Weight loss?  No.  I reexamine her, this time with more purpose.  When I get to her abdomen it’s tender, especially under her rib cage on both sides.  Was it like this before?  I don’t think so, but it’s hard to say, it really wasn’t a very good exam.  I bite the bullet and decide to CAT scan her, looking for a cholecystitis or perforated peptic ulcer or weird diverticulitis or appendicitis or whatever, knowing that it’ll add at least another two hours to an already lengthy stay.       

But it turned out to be the right decision.  She had one of the whatevers — a lacerated spleen.  Holy crap, I think as I read the faxed report, she busted her freaking spleen when she fell last night.  And I’m both fired up and relieved to have found it, and to get her transferred to the local trauma center instead of having her languish on the floor as a misdiagnosed GI bleed.   

I feel fortunate to have saved her from myself.