If necessary, SHOUT!

So with the week ending, someone (?) decided to transition Wiley out of PCU and onto a regular floor. A head scratcher for me. Was he improving?

At least he was going to get some nutrition and perhaps some kind of physical therapy…right? I was told that he would need to have VATS surgery, but they couldn’t do it until the Plavix had cleared out of his system. The infection in his chest was spreading. A lot.

https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=3&ved=2ahUKEwidqvL1sermAhVSwVkKHZoPAwsQFjACegQIDRAG&url=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FVideo-assisted_thoracoscopic_surgery&usg=AOvVaw1Qoj_esEO379qWUEkwyHmq

The professionals had determined that he had a pleural empyema and this VATS surgery would allow them to biopsy and drain the mass. (Recently a friend recommended a good movie to watch was ‘The Big Sick’…Emily was hospitalized with a pleural empyema.)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pleural_empyema

So different room. Same drill. He was sleeping all day and agitated all night. When awake the puppies and monkeys played on his bed, crawled on the walls, and there was no need for tv because there was a never ending kaleidoscope of patterns and places coming from the tacky painting on the wall.

A week in and I was exhausted. A zombie from the Night of the Living Dead. A pitiful lackluster character in a film noir. Routine is good. It is familiar. I created one for my self. There before 9. Sit. Wait. Watch. Wonder. Pray. And leave by 4:30. Dogs were waiting. What good was I even doing? I was overcome by a ball of stress that took over my gut. I couldn’t eat. Coke Zero. Wine maybe some cheese.. Repeat next day. On. And on.

To be clear, this is not an indictment of the medical community as a whole, but I did indeed meet some assholes. Most of the professionals who took care of Wiley were probably very kind caring humans…why else would one choose that profession? This is an indictment of the system. I found most individuals to be overworked and receiving ‘death by a thousand cuts’ due to paperwork, scanning, and everything connected with covering the backside of the hospital itself and the system.

I could start an endless litany of the hundred things that went wrong in those few days, but I won’t. I am writing to alert those of you who may have to be in the same situation in which I found myself.

Presently I am petrified of the possibility of having to be admitted to a hospital. Any hospital.

I had to give a loved one some advice a few months back when she found herself in a somewhat similar situation. I told her to make noise. Lots of noise. Lots and lots of noise. Don’t wait. Don’t be timid. She ended up hiring an attorney…and in less than 24 hours…she had a meeting with those professionals who were ignoring her pleas.