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Today I checked myself out of the hospital AMA because, quite frankly, that hospital was terrible, and I honestly believe that staying there was slowing my recovery.
The problems were legion, so I'll hit the highlights.
1. Communication.
Being a patient is scary. There is something wrong with you, you're in pain, body parts aren't working, or are doing unexpected things, and hospital staff are giving you pills, hooking you up to machines, and wheeling you all over the place for more tests and procedures. What is needed is an explanation. "These pills are for your diarrhea. This machine is going to deliver you pain killers, and we're going to take you down to image your heart and lungs." That's all. Also, getting updates on what the doctors learn and they're plans is extremely comforting. I got none of that. There was no communication unless I asked multiple times. The few doctors I did see seemed to be annoyed at my asking questions.
2. My Room.
Oy. I do not expect a hospital room to be a suite at the Ritz, but this one wen't beyond all bounds. Shall we start with the bed? A hospital bed is designed to move around so the patient can sit comfortably or keep body parts elevated in accordance with doctor's orders. Most also have controls for lights and the TV/radio as well as a nurse call button. Mine moved, but none of the other features worked. I had a big clunky controller for those functions - but that had problems. Ever other hospital bed I've been in had a personal light, a reading-lamp sort of deal so that you could pass the dark hours (if unable to sleep) without disturbing your roommate. Not here! The only lighting option was a large fluorescent wall mounting. And I couldn't even turn it on! The chain/string pull had vanished, so during the times when I was actively receiving infusions, I had to have someone else turn my light on and off. My roommate had the same sort of affair, of course, and needed a lot more attention than me, so several times a night I'd be woken up because he had a problem.
Then comes the atmosphere. Hospitals are noisy places, but this place takes the cake. From my bed I could hear conversations in the nurses' station, in other rooms, the elevator machinery, and an odd banging I never did identify. Making things worse were the student nurses who seemed to universally have high piercing voices, and my roommate's near total deafness. Which meant that several times each night I got a running commentary on them cleaning up Mr. Neal's latest accident. The air was bone dry. Which really felt great with my sinuses under assault. My room also went through bizarre temperature changes. Every night, about 0300, it was get hot in there. This wasn't just me, it was remarked on by people coming to take vitals and the like. Then, like clockwork, around 0630 the heat went away and I was left sweaty and shivering.
It's just badly designed. All straight lines, nothing to look at, not even an easily accessible porch or garden for patients to sit in with visitors.
3. Sleep.
OK, sleeping is hard in hospitals. No way around it. But look at the above factors and you can see why I have had maybe four good hours of sleep in the last three nights. My second night, I requested a do not disturb between midnight and 0600 along with a sleep aid. Took the pill about 2300 and within an hour I was forced back awake for some bullshit reason. I don't know how many of you have used hospital class sleeping pills before, but your brain wants to sleep. Forcing me to stay awake completely disrupted things, gave a pounding headache, and really, really pissed me off.
4. There Are No Words...
This last one is just beyond the pale. Really, I cannot imagine how this policy came to be. Monday, my nurse came in and said it was time for my Heparin shot. OK, color me confused, but I'd done Heparin before (in massive quantities) and had no adverse reactions. Getting shots in your stomach sucks, but hey, at that point I had an IV in my right hand.
Then I had the nosebleed. Remember the infected sinuses? I was being given pretty powerful decongestants to break up the goop in there, and after a treatment had real fun blowing my nose. Until I came up with a towel full of bloody goop, and started spewing blood. I have a deviated septum, y'see, and have been hospitalized for nose bleeds in my youth. Next time the nurse came for my shot, I asked her why I needed Heparin.
"Because of blood clots from lying in bed. If you can't get up and walk around, we need to give you the shots."
"Wait, I do get up and walk, several times a day! When I'm not hooked up I walk to the bathroom, I stretch and walk around my space, and when my wife gets here tonight we're going for a stroll!"
"Oh, okay. I'll tell them."
I was being given a pretty powerful drug based on an imagined need to counter a non-existent problem. Had somebody taken the 30 seconds to tell me that "they" wanted me to get out of bed and move around for five minutes three times a day, I would have answered "no problem!" If they had presented it as a treatment option, I would have taken it. But instead, they through drugs at the problem rather than trying to think about the best solution.
It wasn't all bad, most of the nurses seemed dedicated, and the hospital cable system had TCM. Currently they have a "Watching the Detectives" thing going, so I got Noir, Noir, Noir! The Maltese Falcon, The Big Sleep, ah.. bliss!
So yeah, I bailed myself out. I have strict orders to come to the ER if any one of a dozen conditions occur, and medications to choke a horse, but I'm home recovering until the 12th with a follow-up appointment next Friday. My eyes swelling has real gone down. Things are looking marginally better.
The problems were legion, so I'll hit the highlights.
1. Communication.
Being a patient is scary. There is something wrong with you, you're in pain, body parts aren't working, or are doing unexpected things, and hospital staff are giving you pills, hooking you up to machines, and wheeling you all over the place for more tests and procedures. What is needed is an explanation. "These pills are for your diarrhea. This machine is going to deliver you pain killers, and we're going to take you down to image your heart and lungs." That's all. Also, getting updates on what the doctors learn and they're plans is extremely comforting. I got none of that. There was no communication unless I asked multiple times. The few doctors I did see seemed to be annoyed at my asking questions.
2. My Room.
Oy. I do not expect a hospital room to be a suite at the Ritz, but this one wen't beyond all bounds. Shall we start with the bed? A hospital bed is designed to move around so the patient can sit comfortably or keep body parts elevated in accordance with doctor's orders. Most also have controls for lights and the TV/radio as well as a nurse call button. Mine moved, but none of the other features worked. I had a big clunky controller for those functions - but that had problems. Ever other hospital bed I've been in had a personal light, a reading-lamp sort of deal so that you could pass the dark hours (if unable to sleep) without disturbing your roommate. Not here! The only lighting option was a large fluorescent wall mounting. And I couldn't even turn it on! The chain/string pull had vanished, so during the times when I was actively receiving infusions, I had to have someone else turn my light on and off. My roommate had the same sort of affair, of course, and needed a lot more attention than me, so several times a night I'd be woken up because he had a problem.
Then comes the atmosphere. Hospitals are noisy places, but this place takes the cake. From my bed I could hear conversations in the nurses' station, in other rooms, the elevator machinery, and an odd banging I never did identify. Making things worse were the student nurses who seemed to universally have high piercing voices, and my roommate's near total deafness. Which meant that several times each night I got a running commentary on them cleaning up Mr. Neal's latest accident. The air was bone dry. Which really felt great with my sinuses under assault. My room also went through bizarre temperature changes. Every night, about 0300, it was get hot in there. This wasn't just me, it was remarked on by people coming to take vitals and the like. Then, like clockwork, around 0630 the heat went away and I was left sweaty and shivering.
It's just badly designed. All straight lines, nothing to look at, not even an easily accessible porch or garden for patients to sit in with visitors.
3. Sleep.
OK, sleeping is hard in hospitals. No way around it. But look at the above factors and you can see why I have had maybe four good hours of sleep in the last three nights. My second night, I requested a do not disturb between midnight and 0600 along with a sleep aid. Took the pill about 2300 and within an hour I was forced back awake for some bullshit reason. I don't know how many of you have used hospital class sleeping pills before, but your brain wants to sleep. Forcing me to stay awake completely disrupted things, gave a pounding headache, and really, really pissed me off.
4. There Are No Words...
This last one is just beyond the pale. Really, I cannot imagine how this policy came to be. Monday, my nurse came in and said it was time for my Heparin shot. OK, color me confused, but I'd done Heparin before (in massive quantities) and had no adverse reactions. Getting shots in your stomach sucks, but hey, at that point I had an IV in my right hand.
Then I had the nosebleed. Remember the infected sinuses? I was being given pretty powerful decongestants to break up the goop in there, and after a treatment had real fun blowing my nose. Until I came up with a towel full of bloody goop, and started spewing blood. I have a deviated septum, y'see, and have been hospitalized for nose bleeds in my youth. Next time the nurse came for my shot, I asked her why I needed Heparin.
"Because of blood clots from lying in bed. If you can't get up and walk around, we need to give you the shots."
"Wait, I do get up and walk, several times a day! When I'm not hooked up I walk to the bathroom, I stretch and walk around my space, and when my wife gets here tonight we're going for a stroll!"
"Oh, okay. I'll tell them."
I was being given a pretty powerful drug based on an imagined need to counter a non-existent problem. Had somebody taken the 30 seconds to tell me that "they" wanted me to get out of bed and move around for five minutes three times a day, I would have answered "no problem!" If they had presented it as a treatment option, I would have taken it. But instead, they through drugs at the problem rather than trying to think about the best solution.
It wasn't all bad, most of the nurses seemed dedicated, and the hospital cable system had TCM. Currently they have a "Watching the Detectives" thing going, so I got Noir, Noir, Noir! The Maltese Falcon, The Big Sleep, ah.. bliss!
So yeah, I bailed myself out. I have strict orders to come to the ER if any one of a dozen conditions occur, and medications to choke a horse, but I'm home recovering until the 12th with a follow-up appointment next Friday. My eyes swelling has real gone down. Things are looking marginally better.
no subject
No. 1 is a big problem in hospitals - they never seem to tell you what they're doing and why. It's not Casualty, damnit!
no subject