I recently decided it was better to change the title of this
blog to “Living with Health Problems.”
The reason being that I have been diagnosed with a chronic illness and,
though I consider my friend Laurie an inspiration with the way she handles RSD,
I do not want to limit this blog to one illness.
In my case, I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease early
last year. Unfortunately, because there
is no real way to diagnose PD, I will hold off writing more about my
experience. There seems to be a little
debate over whether I really do have PD.
The process of figuring out whether I do, or I don’t, have it will be at
least one blog of its own.
I spent this past weekend in the hospital being treated for
another illness. I went into the
Emergency Room with a headache that made my head feel it was about to
explode. It turned out my blood pressure
was extremely high. The higher the BP
rose, the worse my head ached. And the
worse my head ached the more I suffered nausea and vomiting.
The symptoms gave the impression of migraines, though after
two days of testing and loads of medications to bring my BP down to a dischargeable
level, pain medications for my headache, and more medications for my stomach, I
was finally able to return home two days later.
The diagnoses hypertensive heart disease. A subject I will also be covering at another
time.
What I want to talk about now, as I look back at the experience,
is hospital care. I will not mention the
name of the facility where I was treated, because I have both positive and
negative things to say about it.
The first, most positive thing about the entire experience I
can say is that the staff at this hospital were caring and professional. They almost made me want to stay. ALMOST!
I have to say there is nothing like sleeping in your own bed in a quiet
room. The old adage of not going to the
hospital to get rest is true. It is not
a place conducive to rest.
Still, when one is ill there is nothing like being greeted
with a smile and genuine concern for your comfort and care. From student nurses to nurse managers to
nurse practitioners everyone was pleasant, kind and professional.
To be greeted by someone who says, “Hi, I’m going to be your
best friend tonight,” makes you feel surrounded by warmth. To hear a cheerful, “Good morning,” from a
person wearing an effervescent smile, is contagious. You can’t help but respond in kind.
However, not all patients will likely agree. There are those who have more needs and
demands than others. There are those who
are expect it, and those who require it.
These are the patients who are the reason nurses are called, “Angles of
Mercy.”
Angels because of the patience they show when faced with
crisis and demand. They brush off
apologies from patients who are sorry for being demanding, and they shrug off
the unkindness from those patients who are angry for being ill and feel they
are not receiving adequate care.
As I said, every one of these professionals made my stay
almost pleasant. Had I not been ill, I
might have thought I was spending the weekend in some sort of spa. I wouldn’t go so far as to say resort,
because I couldn’t find a pool if my life depended on it. I couldn’t even use the shower for all the
wires connected to me. And going for a
walk along the facility trail (okay halls) was more depressing than being in my
room. It did, however, produce a feeling
of great health when compared to the people in the rooms I passed on my walk.
However, as I said there were some negative reactions to my
time in the hospital. First, a
professional can only be as good as the tools and assistance that is
available. It quickly because obvious
this facility gave top value to the bottom line. They proudly display a sign reminding those
who enter the facility that they are a FOR profit hospital.
The hospital was visibly short of staff. Nurses were stretched to give enough time
with patients, especially those who were demanding more time. Never for those who required it.
I mention the staff first, because it is my belief that the
quality of care starts and ends with them.
But when they don’t have what they need to work with, if you look
closely you can see the strain. Though I
had to look hard, there were a few on staff that were normally had smiling eyes
and cheerful words, who exhibited signs of exhaustion combined with sighs.
Before I go on, I must say I realize that although the
bottom line in any business is important, when dealing with people who may be
going through some of the worst times in their lives, perhaps there should be
some exceptions.
This hospital is a fairly new building compared to many
hospitals in the area, yet, it has not been maintained to the extent it
should. Even the newest addition, the Emergency
Room, which was supposed to end long waits and provide more efficient care
during the emergency stage of care, showed a lack of maintenance, from pluming
issues, to shortness of paper products and cleaning. A broken water fountain can be overlooked
when a security guard offers to get one a drink of water, but after a long
stressful wait, if the security guard had been busy, the reaction to the broken
fountain might not have been as forgivable.
The title “Waiting Room,” is possibly a warning of what is
ahead. You get what it says, a
wait. However, it is only the first step
of the entire stay. You will wait throughout
your entire stay. Again, a sign they
facility is short of staff.
Neither is patient comfort as big a consideration when
looking at the bottom line. It is one
thing to use cheap toilet paper for visitors, but for patients; well, having
been one, I sure would have appreciated better paper coming from a holder that worked
properly.
Beds were uncomfortable and pillows not in the least bit
fluffy or firm, except for the lump they turned into once the air squeezed out
of them. They may have looked good, but
when one lies upon them and hears the air hissing out of them, you find they
are about a third their size when finally flat.
Just a fraction thicker than a blanket
Last, I will also note the need for a little more
cleanliness. From the cheese curl under
the bed in the emergency room, to the fuzz balls in the room, there was a
feeling that the over-worked cleaning staff had to work more quickly than
efficiently. One might think they were
being paid rate work, rather than hourly.
Now before I close, lest this article seem unbalance between
positive and negative, I must say I am home and I am alive. If I were to be honest about experience, I would
rather have the care of any of the people who looked after me, not matter what
their role -- it would just be in a
facility that seemed to care just a little bit more about that bottom line
mentioned previously.
My only question is, in this period in time, is there such a
place?
