I went into the hospital because my parents insisted. But the hospital care did not offer anything I felt was valuable.
I woke up that Thursday morning unable to properly control most of the right side of my body. My right arm, especially, was completely unable to move, and my right leg, though it was able to help hold me up when standing, could not move very much. We went in to UVRMC emergency room, which is a far piece to drive, but the nearest large hospital.
After some checking in routine, which I do not remember too well, they gave me a room with a bed that I did not care for. I spent several days laying on that bed, unable to turn or move much. Difficult to imagine more uncomfortable way to spend your time. Perhaps it is convenient for the nurses or something. It wasn't worth a thing to me.
They provided nurses that I did not want or need.
Some of them even made derogatory remarks about me. When I could not get to the bathroom, one of them said I was a fat pig for peeing the bed. He apparently believed that I had done so on purpose, perhaps to make things difficult for them. Admittedly, I am a fat pig, but that had no relevance to the problem, and doesn't seem to be my fault. I was already feeling very bad, but when I overheard that comment, I just wanted to crawl and hide.
None of the doctors offered to explain what was happening to me, which I still am not very clear about, but several of the nursing staff took it upon themselves to give a long and detailed lecture about how difficult I was making it for them by forcing them to clean up when I could not make it to the bathroom. Basically, they made it known that I was not worth taking care of, and they really did not want me there. That feeling of being where I was not wanted was strongly reinforced until I left. I did not get the impression that any of them were anxious to help me.
The hospital forced me to wear a monitor that continually watched to see if my heart was behaving itself. It did so without any monitoring whatever. I thought the device was troublesome, but the nursing staff acted like I would shrivel up and die instantly without it.
I was plugged into an IV the whole time I was there. I don't know why. They never explained to me,just kept pumping in more stuff. The IV hookup made it difficult for me to move around, which quickly became uncomfortable, and finally insufferable. I resorted to locking myself in the bathroom to escape,
Some of the care nurses were nice, but mostly they were rather indifferent. Two of them stood discussing what to do about my problem with urinary incontinence as if I wasn't even there. Finally they settled on fitting me with an adult diaper, which did not help the problem, and made me feel much worse.
The doctors came and went. Dozens of them, I think. Mostly I think they did not even bother to talk to me. At least I don't remember.
They would order drugs, therapy, and treatment for me without even taking the time to speak to me about it. I am charged for thousands in services and treatment, and I don't even remember receiving them.
At one point thay gave me a CT scan. I do remember getting that. Apparently, it did not show anything interesting. Another wasted procedure that the hospital bills thousands of dollars for.
Some stroke patients also get another kind of brain scan routinely. The doctors skipped it for me, after they found out that I don't have medical insurance. Was it economizing or discrimination? I don't know, but my suspicions were raised after other similar experiences. My experience leads me to believe that doctor's health care decisions are strongly influenced by whether they think the subject has insurance that will pay for things that are not wanted or needed, just to run up the bill.
The bottom line seems to be that people with good health insurance NEED good care. The rest of us should just feel lucky that we get anything.
My parents finally brought me back to their home after three nightmare days and nights at the hospital. More than anything else, I just wanted to die. The hospital is the most miserable place I have ever spent time. I hope I can end my life cleanly and not spend time malingering in such an awful place. And I will certainly never feel good about the money they charge for the services. Good health care, it seems, is only available to those who can pay a lot. Every one else presumes on someone else's good will. It may or may not show up.
I hope you never end up in the hospital. It is a terrible place for sick people.
Next installment: Helping and Being Helped
