Quick quiz…after getting a truly great doctor and fantastic medical coverage, what do you still need to keep you safe in a hospital? Think about it. Are you going to have a new hip, elbow or knee replacement? You will likely be knocked unconscious and have a few hours to recover. If it’s a big deal, you may be in the hospital for a few nights and maybe up to a week in a rehab center. Give up? You’re going to need a Ninja Patient Advocate.
Think of Mr. ‘T’ in scrubs. Start building a bodyguard complete with nursing background and a touch of Sherlock Holmes. Maybe your third grade teacher will (mine could stop a clock). In short, you will need someone to fight for your rights, take care of your things and check your medications while you are traveling to La-la-land. Maybe the next time I get sick I’ll just hire the Chippendale cast of dancers and check into the Biltmore Hotel. It will be cheaper, better service and with a better staff disposition.
I have ‘graduated’ from every new age, self-help, religious and motivational program ever invented (yes, ‘fool’ is written on my forehead). Tony, Jack, Werner, Brian, Napoleon and Norman; I love you guys. However, NONE of that prepared me for what lurked in the halls of our great healing institutions after visiting hours. I was, it seemed, an educated, well-rounded, slightly sprayed Renaissance sitting duck.
I was paralyzed from the waist down in 30 minutes from a rare neuroimmune disease. The shock of losing the use of my legacy was NOTHING compared to the shock of losing my dignity, and almost my life, to a bumbling staff who apparently never took Economics 101. You know, the part where patient pay pays your salary. Ergo: a) don’t treat the patient with disdain and b) don’t kill him or they will stop paying your salary.
From the first-hand reports I hear, very few hospitals are prepared for the patient load. Maybe the bean counters decided that one nurse could see 10 or more patients at a time. But talking like one of those is a bad idea. They gave me drugs inappropriately causing shock. I was repeatedly asked to get up and use the dresser. Read graphic Art, if I could walk I would get up and go.
This from an article on the American Association of Critical Care Nurses (aacn.org): The ANA, which worked closely with Sen. Inouye’s office on the bill pushed for this legislation (nurse-patient ratio laws) to protect patients and registered nurses, given the absence of enforceable standards for nursing staffing in hospitals and the widespread practice of health care facilities stretching their nursing staff with unsafe patients. charges, mandatory overtime, “floating” to specialized units without training and guidance, and other practices that undermine the provision of safe, quality care.
Speaking of floating, on another occasion my bladder was not monitored, until it was at near fatal levels pushing towards kidney failure. Of course, they blamed me for not telling the staff that I was feeling bloated. “Evil!” However, to be fair to me, I’m…what was that long word on my chart that apparently no one can read…PARALYZED. FYI for the staff, strangely for some people (me), paralyzed means you can’t feel anything. “I know, maybe while I manage my bladder, blood levels, fluid intake and output, I could manage his mutual fund portfolio. I’m a bum lying here with all this wasted free time in Marguerita-Morphine-Ville.” . Yish!
Add to that that they give you the wrong pills. Oh, did I mention the infection in my arms from too many IVs? The night doctor said ice packs, the day doctor said heating pads. To do? I used ice packs because the night doctor was nicer. and cute. (So sue me for sexual harassment; I was on the brink of death. Did I care?) And I was robbed (well, it was only 4 Godiva bars at $4 each, but it wasn’t like I could jump in a car and go get more, right?) And what goes better with morphine than chocolate?
I was misdiagnosed for the first two days. Fortunately, I had a friend from my church who was a doctor who came to my rescue. He urged the hospital to find a neurologist. Once there, the nice neuro-chappie diagnosed my condition within 5 minutes, thus saving my legs, so now I can walk. (LISTEN TO ME: Get these Ninja Patient Advocate folks in line early folks, you might need them.)
But what do you do if you are in a strange place when all this happens? Fortunately, there is a movement going on called the National Patient Advocate Foundation and they have a partner organization, the Patient Advocate Foundation. These good people are for hire to help patients. This from their mission statement:
The National Patient Advocate Foundation (npaf.org) is a national nonprofit organization that provides the voice of the patient to improve access to and reimbursement for high-quality health care through regulatory and legislative reforms at the state level. and federal. NPAF translates the experience of millions of patients who have been helped by our partner, the Patient Advocate Foundation (Patientadvocate.org), which provides professional case management services to people facing barriers to accessing care for chronic and disability, medical debt crisis and employment. related matters free of charge.
The NPAF and PAF are a great start, but let me tell you, you’ll want to get someone who can walk you to your room. A person who can watch your back when you’re, well, on your back. This might be a good time to befriend a linebacker or Harley rider, just to say.
I’m not implying that all nurses are Nurses Ratched and all doctors are from the TV show “Nip Tuck,” but it only takes one bad apple to ruin a really enjoyable hospital stay (and life).
