Who’s the Boss?

Thanks to all of you who presented me with nice responses full of good wishes to yesterday’s blog post about my health scare. In addition to words of encouragement, I also got several stories of experiences that paralleled mine. Apparently navigating the health care system – never a glorious experience – has gotten considerably more difficult in the past decade or so. Maybe Baby Boomers are ruining it for everyone!

I promised in yesterday’s post that I would give some thoughts on what I wish I had done differently and what I will do next time. (Perhaps the first change I should make is with positive thinking and instead of saying will do next time, I should say would do next time in the unlikely event that an ER visit is required!)

Interestingly, all three times that I have had small bowel obstructions, I have been in AZ. I find this quite astonishing because we live here for less time than we live in Denver. What are the chances? I don’t know if this is purely circumstantial, but it is interesting nonetheless. Anyhoo, I have gone to the same hospital each time. The first time I admitted to that hospital, it was because the Urgent Care I visited sent me there for a CT scan. When the scan indicated an obstruction, I was immediately admitted to that hospital. Subsequent admissions have all been simply because it seemed to make sense given they have my history.

Next time, I would choose a different hospital. Why? In part, because it is a Level 3 trauma center, and therefore it has a busier ER than a regular hospital. I have mixed feelings about saying that, because if a bowel obstruction isn’t traumatic, I don’t know what is. The truth is, however, that my trauma definition didn’t seem to be the same as the medical staff at the hospital ER. And who’s to say who is right? Perhaps the competition for the lone doctor’s attention was people who had been in car accidents and were bleeding to death. My takeaway, however, is that I am going to do some research right now on what hospital in this vicinity has a good reputation and is part of my insurance network.

If at all possible, I wouldn’t wait until 2 o’clock in the morning to head to the hospital. While I realize I only have limited control over the time I head to ER, it makes sense that 2 o’clock in the afternoon might be a bit quieter than the late night/early morning hours. Not only that, but as a result of waiting this time, I lost an entire night of sleep. My tiredness certainly didn’t help matters when it came to thinking clearly or healing.

I’m lucky that Bill is with me when I head to the ER. Even so, he wasn’t with me the entire time. For a number of very legitimate reasons, it turned out that Bill was out of the room or out of the hospital for every important conversation I had with a doctor or nurse except for two. He was there when the ER doctor finally examined me. He was also there when the surgeon came back to tell me that the obstruction had resolved and surgery was no longer necessary. But he wasn’t there when I learned that the CT scan showed an obstruction; he wasn’t there when the surgeon told me about the need for an NG tube for the contrast after I had been admitted. At that same visit, the surgeon told the nurse that he should put me on his surgery schedule for the next day without even giving me a second glance. He was out of the room when the ER nurse told me that I was in control of my medical care and I shouldn’t let myself be bullied into an NG tube without a lot of thought. My takeaway? I always have my cell phone in my hot little hand both in the ER and in the hospital. Whether or not Bill is there, I would turn on the recording device on my phone and record the conversation. After all, I am scared. I am sick. And I am under the influence of narcotics. Not a good combination for getting every detail right.

I would no longer assume that the left hand knows what the right hand is doing. The night after the doctor had deemed surgery unnecessary, the head nurse came in and informed me that I would be given no food or water after midnight because of surgery the next day. I, of course, panicked. “I’m having surgery? I was told it was no longer going to happen!” He checked and learned that I was right and he was wrong.

But perhaps the most important thing that I would keep in mind is exactly what the ER nurse told me: I am in control of my medical care. To me, that means not assuming I have to do exactly what a doctor tells me. As my grandkids would say: They aren’t the boss of me. They are, however, folks who are a lot more knowledgeable about medical stuff than I. I certainly am not saying I would ignore them. But instead of rolling over and allowing another attempt at the insertion of an NG tube, I elected to drink the contrast despite the surgeon’s warnings of its nasty taste and the possibility of vomiting and asphyxiation. The stuff did, in fact, taste incredibly nasty but I didn’t toss my cookies. So there.

One of my blog followers – a woman approximately my age – commented on yesterday’s post. I have had medical challenges the past 9 months. More than I have ever had in my life (including challenges with giving birth). I don’t know if it is my age or what but I have had to learn to stand up for myself with the medical staff. “No, I don’t want to do that. What do you mean by that or what does that term mean? Yes, I would be willing to do that.” I am not a super bold person so it hasn’t been easy – but necessary. And, I have tried to learn to listen closely to what they are saying and ask questions. I have also had some wonderful nurses taking care of me, a few PA’s and doctors as well. Some just so so, you have to just roll with it I think.

Good advice.

I have only one more story to tell you and then I promise I will not write another word about my hospital visit. At one point I was still in the ER awaiting a room assignment and Bill had gone home to get a bit more sleep. By that time I had finally been given morphine. I was alone, scared, and high on pain meds. My curtains parted, and a very cheerful person pushing a computer on a stand walked in. Despite my condition, I knew immediately that Accounts Payable was making its first appearance. After confirming that I was who I was, she happily informs me that after insurance pays its share, “you owe us $5,827.62, payable immediately.

Blink. Blink. Blink. (That’s me, not she.)

I glance down at my hospital gown, and inform her, “Well, I don’t actually have that much on me right this minute.”

Blink. Blink. Blink. (That’s her, not me.)

4 thoughts on “Who’s the Boss?

  1. Good things to think about. I keep thinking about how a middle of the night visit for me to the ER might involve Uber. I wonder if Uber drivers will take one to the hospital or if it’s too much liability.

    • I honestly considered Uber. I felt so badly about having to wake Bill and make him sit through everything with me. I couldn’t decide whether or not Uber would take me, however.

  2. I’m so glad you are out of the hospital! I’m sure you reviewed all your food intake — are you sure you didn’t say, “Hey, Bill, now that we are back in AZ, how about a Navajo-sheep burger with a side of prickly pear relish?” Or maybe obstructions take a year to build? We can test by staying in CO! Have you read about turmeric ? There are some who say it helps but turmeric might be a fad right now.

Comments are closed.