I Am a Medical Professional. You Are Not.
Bear with me here, OK? I feel a rant coming on. Not a Hissy, mind you, just your run-of-the-mill WTF kind of rant. Yes, the subject is Medical and Professional. Those 2 words don't necessarily go together. And don't give me that "they're overworked and understaffed" BS, cause it ain't gonna fly here. As you will understand later.
A recording of that title ought to be played back oh, say every 5 minutes, as a reminder to the "professional" and the patient (layman) being "professed" by said professional. In short, I know why these a**holes 'practice' medicine. OMG, do they need the practice!
In my recent experience, They do not:
- Listen to answers to the questions they ask. ***
- Treat patients as unique individuals.
- Stray from whatever office protocol has been established for whatever CYA reasons. ***
- Believe patient's response to questions concerning bodily functions, diet, or medications.
- Attempt to solve problems on their own or at Patient's suggestion.
- Take advice from the patient regarding the viability of already abused veins in search of more blood.
- Admit any wrong-doing regarding mis-treatment.
- Take seriously the patient's experience or their body's reaction to certain procedures and medications.
- Acknowledge or apologize for negative consequences resulting from rejecting the innate knowledge of the patient.
They do:
- Express surprise when the information provided by the patient proves accurate.
- Assume patient is no longer taking specific medications because the data isn't showing up in patient's records on their computers.
- Question the possibility of undocumented, unapproved revisions to the patient's supplement/prescription regime by demanding all items be brought to the office at each visit as proof. ***
- Suspect the patient is secretly attempting to undermine his/her own treatment.
Arrived at the Cancer Center at 7:15 am yesterday, was finally cut loose (literally) at 3:30 pm. During those surreal 8 hours I witnessed (or overheard) all of the above at least once. I went in for blood work - a CBC - and learned that transfusion was necessary. Three hours passed before the order was filled and blood delivered. Another half-hour of paper-pushing before the port was prepped and transfusion started. Next time I'll get the CBC done in late afternoon one day, and transfused the following morning. No more 3 hours of waiting.
As luck would have it, I knew the 2 nurses and CNA assigned to me from around town, so I suffered no indignities, was well cared for. Not so, for others in the center. There are 5 suites in the center. Each contains 6 stations for infusion/transfusion patients. Two nurses and 1 CNA are assigned to each station. Technicians float in and out as needed, and volunteer helpers scurry about like fussy worker bees. There are no dividing walls, only a waist-high railing of sorts. That translates to no privacy, every word said anywhere in the center can be heard everywhere. An embarrassing situation made worse when patients are asked extremely personal questions. (This is especially true with older, hearing impaired or non-English speaking patients.) It's like learning the medical history of a few dozen people in a couple of hours.
The cacophony of coughing, wheezing, spitting, hissing oxygen tanks, whirring motors connecting patients to diabolical machinery, snoring, groaning, wailing, and shouting was unnerving, to say the least. But no laughter. All very difficult sounds to tune out.
I had the Kindle, but no headphones to block out the noise. The Kindle battery went dead by mid-day, forcing me to drag the IV rack around the center in search of reading material. Three recent issues of Popular Science helped (like Calgon) take me away. If I ever have the opportunity to meet the subscriber, a Mr. Clay Fisher, he's in for a big kiss for his donation to my sanity.
By the time I left I felt totally wrung out. If this is what I have to look forward to every couple of weeks over the next - however many months - it's going to take all my inner resources to remain positive and up-beat.
Anyone know where I can snag some Xanax, or "happy weed" for next time?
Update Saturday, 26 October 10:45 am: Received a call from the Cancer Center. Seems they neglected to tell me that my neutrophil count was dangerously low yesterday. They wanted to remind me to wear the face mask whenever I go out in public. The situation will be re-evaluated on my next visit. The Neutropenia is alive and well. This doesn't surprise me. Especially after receiving 2 units of blood yesterday.
Hell, it's Halloween & Sea Witch weekend, a perfect Autumn day and I am going to head over to watch the parade of costumes and floats; maybe stop by Dos Locos to terrorize see everyone. Being out will do me a world of good - as long as I stay away from large crowds and small children.
*** If you need an explanation of these bullet points (which you probably won't believe, anyway) just drop me a note or leave a comment.
And so it goes.
*
damn; sorry about the transfusion.
ReplyDeleteyep, get outside, enjoy the season, and with the mask you are dressed for halloween.
I feel some of your agony.
ReplyDeleteJust yesterday I went to see a vascular surgeon about my left leg that swells and develops ulcers post 20 years ago having a DVT (thrombosis in my calf muscle).
Arrived at 10am per instructions, filled out the inevitable paperwork and forms, and waited until 10:30 when the ultrasound tech came in and ushered me back to her room. I lay on her table for the next one and half hours while she pressed her probe into my groin, behind my knees and up and down both legs, occasionally squeezing my calf. She was very professional and kind, but the hour and a half was doing a number on my back. The table was soft enough when I arrived, but became harder and harder as I lay there. The tech left and told me that the doctor would be in shortly.
I continued to sit on that table for another 30 minutes, took out my phone, read all my email, checked my stock portfolio, read all the day's news, and started playing Solitaire. The the NP (nurse practitioner) came in and took photos of the ulcers and started giving me instructions, such as keeping my legs elevated higher than my heart, not just at night but during the day as well. (No, I don't have a life that would require me to use my legs!) I explained that the swelling was kept down by wearing elastic stockings, so that my left leg was usually no bigger than my right normal leg. The NP asked me when I took the stocking off, and I replied 2 hours earlier when we started the ultrasound. She then proceeded to tell me that my leg could not swell to its present edematous state in only 2 hours! WTF? She knew better than me from my own experience that had just happened??? I was about to start an argument when the MD walked in. He has seen me a number of times before and is very professional. He explained that it is a chronic problem that I will have to live with for the rest of my life, and that there is no surgery that he could do that would help. I explained my plan of action next week starting my physical therapy and unna boots. He said that was excellent and would I like to have a unna boot placed on my leg now, which I gratefully accepted. He said that he could start a regimen of antibiotics that might help, but I told him my internist had already done that and I was in day 8 of a 10 day regimen.
At least my day was not as long as yours, as it was only 3 hours with one hour of that time just waiting, and getting mad at that damn NP.
David
All I can do is smile at the title. Having to reschedule my ICD testing this month to a "fit in" my cardiologist was in surgery. The 5th year "fellow" reviewing my chart deemed it necessary start me on a new medication against my protest. He was surprised I knew how to read my blood panel.
ReplyDeleteHis response to me was "who is the medical professional" Not one to not follow doctors orders since my CHF diagnos and 2 other heart problems I took the medication daily the last ten days with horrific side effects. Doing follow up blood work Thursday I was not surprised yesterday afternoon when they called and told me to stop immediately it had spiked my potassium levels thru the roof.
there is truth in your manifesto.
ReplyDeleteDoctors are scared to apologize or admit an error, as it is sure grounds for a lawsuit.
@anne marie: This is my life for now, until I find out if I am a transplant candidate at year's end. Either way, A new adventure will then begin.
ReplyDelete@david: Sorry, my friend. But, we DO have to stand up for ourselves when we know we're right and being truthful. As I wrote, they're "practicing" and some believe they know more than others. Hang in there and thanks for the visit.
So sorry to hear about it. Keep strong. I hope you enjoyed getting out.
ReplyDeleteOh yes, I can identify. I had a similar experience, or shall I say "experiences" during my prostate cancer treatment. Hours waiting in the little room. Even my last kidney stone procedure, I arrived at 6:30 am, albeit early for an 8:00 am operation. I was put under anesthesia 2 1/2 hours later! My ass was literally aching from sitting up in the bed/gurney waiting all that time. I had Bill with me so it wasn't too bad, for me anyway. He still had wait until after the operation and then when I came to with was about 2:30 in the afternoon. Some day! I see where I have to visit my oncologist next months at 2:30 in the afternoon. I was tempted to change the hours to the morning because I'm scheduled to work at the hotel that day but decided against it because I know they don't work much past 4 pm. I would rather show up late at the hotel than sit for an hour or two in that little room waiting for him to perfunctorily go over my chart without even making eye contact with me. I didn't complain about this in my blog because I need them (I'm assuming they don't read comments on your blog) and I sort of expected this after my extended experience with the medical profession when I had a staph infection. They literally fucked around with me for six months and three operations before they got it right (and didn't kill me, which they almost did). So what do we do about this? Vent. That's about it because they do literally have us by the balls. At least us guys anyway.
ReplyDeleteRon