I am sure by now that my readers (OK reader) have been wondering where I might be. Well friends, I have been in the hospital. Remember Dr. Saint? Dr. Saint made a tiny nick on a vein when inserting my chest port. Unfortunately, the tiny nick caused my right lung to fill with almost 2 litres of blood. So I spent the better part of the week in the hospital with a tube draining my lungs of the remnants. I understand that people make mistakes. What I don't understand is why, even when they know they made them, they don't do everything in their power to rectify them. He knew about the issue. He said it would probably pass, but to call if things got worse. I did, but he was leaving town. I really am not angry about the mistake, I am angry about the lack of care I received afterwards.
Most of the people at the hospital were great and my friends and family ensured that I was surrounded by love and support. But one of the nurses made me feel helpless. It was the night of the tube placement. They had tried another equally horrifying procedure the day before and the tube was the last resort. Besides the pain, breathing was difficult and almost every position hurt. I also had several IVs hanging from my hands and arm. However, none of these were useful at 3 a.m. when I had to have a dose of some mystery medicine. Not only did he question whether he could get it, he was chagrined when I implied that others had had no problem. Later he yelled at another nurse who stopped to help me. I was HIS patient.
I was angry. Later I tried to figure out why. And the answer was because I felt helpless. I had been let down by Dr. Saint. I had had to postpone my chemo treatment. I was lying alone in a hospital bed, and I was scared and in pain, and I needed reassurance. The nurse was a young, male who probably was technically very qualified but didn't know how to deal with middle age ladies who felt helpless. Maybe this needs to be a new class in nursing school, medical school, beauty school, anyplace that touches the most important parts of your body.
I keep checking to see if you are writing again and at last you are. I have missed you. I have missed your blog. I can't imagine how worn out you must be from this most recent ordeal. It is, however, good to see you back in print. It means you are feeling better than you have for quite a while. Reassurance 101----could be taught in Community Colleges, Voc Schools. Reassurance 202, in undergrad school. Reassurance 303 and 404 and 505 could be taught in nursing school, medical school, beauty school and LAW SCHOOL----Lawyers might not touch important parts of your body----but they deal with people who need reassurance....lots and lots of it.
ReplyDeleteThank you for posting about Dr. Saint...and you thought the cancer was the scariest part :(! Hang in there Denise!
ReplyDeleteDenise: Those feelings of betrayal by those you trust, helplessness at the hands of strangers, and having to depend on others to get help for pain or other functional activities, especially when you are a proud, normally active human being quite capable of taking care of yourself, is not a fun place to be. I think our society helps us to be independent, especially those of us in our "middle years". We are the ones who are supposed too be strong for those younger or older then us, those who depend on us for strength, and it is often last thing we expect to have to be the one dependent on others. Should it make us sanguine knowing that these feelings are normal, and that as we age we just have more of them to look forward to? HELL NO! FIGHT BACK! We will still feel each betrayal, remember each helpless moment and each person who could have, or should have done something we needed. In a way it helps that we are built this way because, if you keep those feelings alive you can channel that energy into getting better so you can avoid more of the same.
ReplyDeleteIf it helps, it works the same way with men, imagine having to pee wicked bad, not just bad but wicked bad mind you. Being so wired and tubed up that you couldn't walk to the bathroom if you even had the strength to get out of bed, and the teeny-bopper on night duty finally responds to the buzzer (that they claim is there to get immediate assistance for anything) and behaves very put out when she finds out your need. Then when she get the urinal and finds out you can't even hold it yourself and she is expected to take care of that, gets everything in place and then stands there tapping her foot! Talk about performance anxiety! Go ahead and laugh...it was not funny at the time but I can look back on it now and laugh too...
I feel for you and wish I could make it all better. I wish every Dr. really was a Dr. Saint and that every nurse really was awake during the class on compassionate care, but we live in a real world full of oddly real people. Try finding things that you can laugh about, and share as you can to pass around the pain. Unfortunately, you are just starting on what looks like a long journey so steady as you go, and know we are here for you.
Hi Mom! Hugs to you and give one to Denise for me.