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My “curse of life” is that I often get horrendously bad medical care or treatment. I live through it and lodge a complaint and often the facility makes changes in how they do things based on what happened to me. I'm tired of it.
Yes I think that's my other curse--happens to me all the time too. I think that's why I decided to go all holistic for my breast cancer care. I had barely been dx'ed when they started to screw up--they were supposed to order me an MRI so they could see whether I was eligible for a lumpectomy or full mastectomy but they messed up and ordered it for the wrong date and I would have had to wait another month or more, since it's based on female cycles and mine are erratic. Saw several docs and no one could agree on what stage I am. Went holistic and I'm not sorry--it hasn't grown, seems to be shrinking, I feel fabulous, and no one has screwed anything up yet.
My “curse of life” is that I often get horrendously bad medical care or treatment. I live through it and lodge a complaint and often the facility makes changes in how they do things based on what happened to me. I'm tired of it. though
A few highlights:
A recent mammogram where I had to tell the technician, “You have my collarbone caught in the pressure plate.” When I first started telling her this, she didn't understand what I was saying. Now, I wasn't speaking in Urdu and I wasn't speaking in tongues and she spoke English just fine,and I was saying, just like you just read: “You have my collarbone caught in the plate.” The third time I said it, she said, OMG, I'm so sorry,” and finally let up on the pressure. I honestly thought she was going to break my collarbone. (And may I hasten to add that I am a reasonably normal human female, which means my collarbone is nowhere near the body part that was supposed to be on the plate.)
An emergency appendectomy where I was first examined by a physician who took some blood, did a scan, and said I needed an emergency appendectomy. This was at 7AM. He referred me to the local hospital, where the following happened:
1) The tech who needed to draw the blood looked at my arm and said “Dammit, they used the good vein.” So sorry, you should have called dibs.
2) They tried to send me back home. I said I had been told I needed emergency surgery. The nurse said I should go home and have something to eat. I said I didn't think I should have something to eat since I was supposed to have emergency surgery. She said, “Oh, I suppose that's true.”
3) I sat in a dark room for several hours, listening to people going by in the hallway. (I have no idea why they turned the lights off, unless perhaps it was to punish me for letting the first doctor use the good vein.)
4) When I finally was admitted to the surgical floor (I think it was about 2PM by that time), the nurse showed me a bed, pulled down the covers, and told me to get into it. I still had all my street clothes on including my shoes. When I asked if I should take my shoes off, she shrugged and said “If you want to.”
5) I was not given a wrist ID for several hours after being admitted. During that time, personnel kept coming into the room and saying, “Hi, you're Sue, right?” “No, I'm Jane.” “Hi, you're Annette right?” “No I'm Jane.” “Hi, you're here for gallbladder, aren't you, Amy?” “NO, I'M JANE AND I'M HERE FOR AN EMERGENCY APPENDECTOMY.” I was exhausted and in pain and I wanted more than anything to be able to sleep or even just close my eyes and rest a bit, but I was terrified that I would wake up without one of my limbs, since they seemed not to know who I was or what I needed. I did not get a wrist band for about another four hours. During that time, several people asked me why I didn't have a wrist band on.
6) At around 8PM (having been in considerable pain for over 12 hours), I asked one of the nurses when she thought I might be going into surgery. She snapped “You're not the only person here who needs surgery, you know. There are others in worse shape than you.” Oh sorry, my nearly ruptured appendix must have made me delirious for a while there.
7) As I was recovering from surgery, I heard the anesthesiologist complain about how short my neck was and how difficult it was to get the trach tube in. Again, so sorry.
8) After the surgery (and confirmation from the surgeon that my appendix was close to rupturing), nurses kept coming in and asking me more questions I couldn't answer, such as, “Why do you still have those leg things on?” and “Why do you still have your oxygen prongs in?” Gee, I don't know, maybe because I've been totally ignored ever since I got here? (I suppose if I hadn't taken my shoes off, they would be asking me why there was dirt in the bottom of my bed.)
I went to my eye doctor and he told me I needed an appointment with their specialist. He actually went to the reception area and made the appointment for me while I was standing there. When I went to that appointment a month later, everyone kept asking me why I was there. I kept saying, “Because Dr. So and So told me I needed to see her and he was the one who made the appointment.” They said they had asked Dr. So and So and he denied ever referring me to her or making the appointment, so why was I there? This went on for a ridiculous amount of time, with them acting like I was trying to put something over on them. Finally I went home, but said I wanted to hear from the head of the clinic. It turned into a huge debacle, with the clinic head calling me and promising to look into it, then calling me back and saying that my eye doctor now realized he had made that appointment and that they were going to make him call me and apologize. There aren't too many things more uncomfortable than having your doctor call with a forced apology, by the way. (Oh, and prior to him calling, the head of the clinic told me, “Dr. So and So is going to have to go before Peer Review because of this, but he doesn't know it yet, so when he calls you, don't mention it.”)
Going to the drugstore and having them give me a prescription that has my name and phone number, but the address of a totally different person in a different state. When I pointed that out, the woman said, “Don't you live in Massachusetts?” Yes, that's why I pick up my prescriptions here in Minneapolis Minnesota, it's such a nice drive from Massachusetts. I said it was wrong. She just shrugged and handed me the bag.
Different drugstore. I went to pick up my prescription and the doctor's name was all screwed up. And it wasn't the medication my doctor had prescribed. When I told the pharmacist's aide, she screamed out, “Well, you are Lucy Weiler at 1234 Bonnie View Road Nottingham Iowa,” aren't you? (I used fictitious info, but even though they had gotten everything else wrong, they had my real name and address, and she blatted it out like she was on the PA system.) This was such a blatant HEPA violation that I complained to the pharmacy manager, and got a $25 gift card out of the deal.
A doctor who told me the medication he was prescribing had virtually no side effects and I could be on it forever. When I went back to see him four months later, I told him the medication was working well. He said, “OMG, you're still on that? You can't be on that for more than a month or so at a time.” Nice to know. I ended up with a side effect that nearly caused an autoimmune condition. I had to be on a tremendously restrictive diet for over a year while my system recovered.
I could go on, but you get the drift.
Just a piece of advice, if you ever need surgery in the future, make sure you tell the anesthesiologist that you are a difficult intubation. When we know about it ahead of time, we can prepare special equipment and use techniques that will allow us to safely place the breathing tube. When it is a surprise, it can quickly turn into a life and death emergency.
My “curse of life” is that I often get horrendously bad medical care or treatment. I live through it and lodge a complaint and often the facility makes changes in how they do things based on what happened to me. I'm tired of it. though
A few highlights:
A recent mammogram where I had to tell the technician, “You have my collarbone caught in the pressure plate.” When I first started telling her this, she didn't understand what I was saying. Now, I wasn't speaking in Urdu and I wasn't speaking in tongues and she spoke English just fine,and I was saying, just like you just read: “You have my collarbone caught in the plate.” The third time I said it, she said, OMG, I'm so sorry,” and finally let up on the pressure. I honestly thought she was going to break my collarbone. (And may I hasten to add that I am a reasonably normal human female, which means my collarbone is nowhere near the body part that was supposed to be on the plate.)
An emergency appendectomy where I was first examined by a physician who took some blood, did a scan, and said I needed an emergency appendectomy. This was at 7AM. He referred me to the local hospital, where the following happened:
1) The tech who needed to draw the blood looked at my arm and said “Dammit, they used the good vein.” So sorry, you should have called dibs.
2) They tried to send me back home. I said I had been told I needed emergency surgery. The nurse said I should go home and have something to eat. I said I didn't think I should have something to eat since I was supposed to have emergency surgery. She said, “Oh, I suppose that's true.”
3) I sat in a dark room for several hours, listening to people going by in the hallway. (I have no idea why they turned the lights off, unless perhaps it was to punish me for letting the first doctor use the good vein.)
4) When I finally was admitted to the surgical floor (I think it was about 2PM by that time), the nurse showed me a bed, pulled down the covers, and told me to get into it. I still had all my street clothes on including my shoes. When I asked if I should take my shoes off, she shrugged and said “If you want to.”
5) I was not given a wrist ID for several hours after being admitted. During that time, personnel kept coming into the room and saying, “Hi, you're Sue, right?” “No, I'm Jane.” “Hi, you're Annette right?” “No I'm Jane.” “Hi, you're here for gallbladder, aren't you, Amy?” “NO, I'M JANE AND I'M HERE FOR AN EMERGENCY APPENDECTOMY.” I was exhausted and in pain and I wanted more than anything to be able to sleep or even just close my eyes and rest a bit, but I was terrified that I would wake up without one of my limbs, since they seemed not to know who I was or what I needed. I did not get a wrist band for about another four hours. During that time, several people asked me why I didn't have a wrist band on.
6) At around 8PM (having been in considerable pain for over 12 hours), I asked one of the nurses when she thought I might be going into surgery. She snapped “You're not the only person here who needs surgery, you know. There are others in worse shape than you.” Oh sorry, my nearly ruptured appendix must have made me delirious for a while there.
7) As I was recovering from surgery, I heard the anesthesiologist complain about how short my neck was and how difficult it was to get the trach tube in. Again, so sorry.
8) After the surgery (and confirmation from the surgeon that my appendix was close to rupturing), nurses kept coming in and asking me more questions I couldn't answer, such as, “Why do you still have those leg things on?” and “Why do you still have your oxygen prongs in?” Gee, I don't know, maybe because I've been totally ignored ever since I got here? (I suppose if I hadn't taken my shoes off, they would be asking me why there was dirt in the bottom of my bed.)
I went to my eye doctor and he told me I needed an appointment with their specialist. He actually went to the reception area and made the appointment for me while I was standing there. When I went to that appointment a month later, everyone kept asking me why I was there. I kept saying, “Because Dr. So and So told me I needed to see her and he was the one who made the appointment.” They said they had asked Dr. So and So and he denied ever referring me to her or making the appointment, so why was I there? This went on for a ridiculous amount of time, with them acting like I was trying to put something over on them. Finally I went home, but said I wanted to hear from the head of the clinic. It turned into a huge debacle, with the clinic head calling me and promising to look into it, then calling me back and saying that my eye doctor now realized he had made that appointment and that they were going to make him call me and apologize. There aren't too many things more uncomfortable than having your doctor call with a forced apology, by the way. (Oh, and prior to him calling, the head of the clinic told me, “Dr. So and So is going to have to go before Peer Review because of this, but he doesn't know it yet, so when he calls you, don't mention it.”)
Going to the drugstore and having them give me a prescription that has my name and phone number, but the address of a totally different person in a different state. When I pointed that out, the woman said, “Don't you live in Massachusetts?” Yes, that's why I pick up my prescriptions here in Minneapolis Minnesota, it's such a nice drive from Massachusetts. I said it was wrong. She just shrugged and handed me the bag.
Different drugstore. I went to pick up my prescription and the doctor's name was all screwed up. And it wasn't the medication my doctor had prescribed. When I told the pharmacist's aide, she screamed out, “Well, you are Lucy Weiler at 1234 Bonnie View Road Nottingham Iowa,” aren't you? (I used fictitious info, but even though they had gotten everything else wrong, they had my real name and address, and she blatted it out like she was on the PA system.) This was such a blatant HEPA violation that I complained to the pharmacy manager, and got a $25 gift card out of the deal.
A doctor who told me the medication he was prescribing had virtually no side effects and I could be on it forever. When I went back to see him four months later, I told him the medication was working well. He said, “OMG, you're still on that? You can't be on that for more than a month or so at a time.” Nice to know. I ended up with a side effect that nearly caused an autoimmune condition. I had to be on a tremendously restrictive diet for over a year while my system recovered.
I could go on, but you get the drift.
I can relate to that, but its only one of the many "curses" that hit me in the last eight months.
Just a piece of advice, if you ever need surgery in the future, make sure you tell the anesthesiologist that you are a difficult intubation. When we know about it ahead of time, we can prepare special equipment and use techniques that will allow us to safely place the breathing tube. When it is a surprise, it can quickly turn into a life and death emergency.
Wow, thanks, this is obviously good to know! I can't help thinking, though, the curse strikes again--because wouldn't it have been nice (or professional even) if one of the medical staff had mentioned this to me, and after I was awake?
Wow, thanks, this is obviously good to know! I can't help thinking, though, the curse strikes again--because wouldn't it have been nice (or professional even) if one of the medical staff had mentioned this to me, and after I was awake?
I am surprised too. In my practice, we have a thorough discussion with the patient before we let them leave the hospital. We even give them a letter to take home with them, in case they forget the details.
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