Hospitals--don't go there
My recent two day stay in a modern, metropolitan hospital, covered by my excellent insurance (although it will still cost me a bundle), has convinced me again there is never a good or safe time to be there if what you have isn't life threatening (although how do you know?). I didn't go to the ER because I was an elderly, poor person with no insurance and no regular doctor; no, the doctor on call for my doctor said to go there when I told her I had severe diarrhea, a temperature over 102, was recently returned from Europe and was napping on the floor of the bathroom and having some A-fib. Silly me. I didn't think to take a pillow and blanket with me. I got to the ER about 7:30 p.m. and was finally in a hospital bed about 5:30 a.m. Thank goodness for Depends, because in ER, if you're not bleeding or throwing up on the staff, you wait. As it was, I just threw some of my clothes away.
Hospitals these days (my first stay since 2002) are high tech, high touch. We had to go through a security check to even enter the ER waiting room. My medical data was entered into rolling computers three difference times, and only the first one knew who my secondary emergency contact was--the other two times I had to provide the information. So even within the hospital, I didn't seem to be connected. But bar codes and RFID (radio frequency identification), and wi-fi were everywhere. No where in these computers was the information that I am right handed, so if an IV is strung up (with all the electronic, data rich, error prone tags), in the crook of my right arm, I will constantly be setting off an alarm that will beep its little heart out until someone arrives to see if I'm dying, scratching my nose, or trapped in the rest room.
One new feature, although I don't know if the info ever got back to my own doctor, was I had two different "hospitalists" from my own doctor's practice. So at least, they knew of him. Every staff member of the hospital, from RNs down to housekeeping, seemed to have been through a "make the patient feel loved" workshop. I never saw so many smiles or had such quick response to the alarm light (after leaving ER).
Each year there are 44,000-98,000 preventable deaths in hospitals, according to one report I read on an FDA site, and 5% of the patients in hospitals acquire an infection. Here's where technology fails. I saw a housekeeping person once in my room--not that they couldn't have slipped someone in while I was napping or at night when I was asleep. But that's what I saw. She smiled and ran a dust mop on the floor of the room. Didn't empty the trash, take the soiled laundry, or clean the bathroom. I used the wash cloths to clean the bathroom floor and commode myself--then threw them away. What came up on the cloth was just plain old dirt, not evidence of my illness. If that floor had seen any hot water and disinfectant, it must have been months ago. No one offered to bag my soiled street clothes so they were just thrown in a closet, where if I'd been contagious, the bacteria or virus awaited the next patient. I finally asked someone to remove the bathroom trash which was getting quite ripe. God knows when the last time the telephone mouthpiece and keypad or TV remote had been cleaned. When Pastor John visited, he pulled down the window screens to cut the glare--no one else noticed. But then, he sees dozens of hospital rooms a week.
A food service person (smiling and friendly) brought me a tray and menu for the day. With my left hand (very low tech stubby pencil and paper) I circled jello and hot tea, figuring that would be safe. (Why do they have patients decide this?) For dinner I received half a baked chicken, broccoli, salad, coffee and cake. All the hot food was contained in something plastic scuffed, scratched and faded that seemed to be shedding its heat absorbing materials. I'm not phobic about heating food in chemically ladened containers, but really, this equipment looked unsafe at any speed. A little stainless steel dish sitting on hot water might be preferable and easier to keep sanitized.
Even if you don't plan to stay (and I didn't), take your own medications to the ER. You might be admitted, and they'll never get it right. I had such a headache from dehydration I asked for an aspirin. After an hour, I asked again, and was brought 2 Tylenol and a baby aspirin (which is on my daily med list) in a paper cup and it was entered on the rolling computer screen, after checking my barcoded wrist and asking me my birthdate. I don't like Tylenol, but took it anyway, and just had 2 baby aspirin that day. One day they couldn't get my one prescription drug, so it had to be ordered--I'm sure the cost will be out of sight when I get the bill. And why do hospitals give adults chewable 81 mg aspirin when they are much more expensive than the low dose adult kind? I was potassium depleted, and the pills could have choked a horse, but it took me awhile to figure out they were easy to break in half even as weak as I was--no one else suggested it.
One alert, smiling RN, after resetting my IV data monitor numerous times (I left the hospital 10 lbs heavier than I went in), decided to move the IV to my left arm. The smiling young med tech who looked at least 15 was apparently not yet finished with his training, and this took several
stabs attempts under her supervision and coaching, but she smiled throughout the whole ordeal and was sympathetic. (It really does help the patient's attitude.) When I could read the BP data, it looked like I was dead--something like 105 over 55; and the high tech thermometer never registered over 97 despite the fact I felt like I had a sunburn.
Hospitals. Don't go there unless you have to.
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