When Rage Doesn't Help

Stage 3:   Confusion

  It certainly would be nice if everything that sounds good in theory would work out to be that way in real life.  Despite my efforts and having the very best of intentions, there was no improvement in the level of care, compassion and treatment as it pertained to Keoni’s healthcare or in the way the staff showed regard to us.  My world was spinning, spiraling, unraveling and closing in on me – all at the same time.   I wasn’t eating right, I wasn’t getting enough rest.  The hotel was a only a minute walk away from the hospital and some days or evenings it would be raining or I would be so exhausted that I didn’t think I could make the short walk back to the hotel.  I would just cry as I walked because I had to try so hard to hold in my emotions while I was at the hospital.  I attempted to arrive at the hospital everyday from the start of visiting hours to the close of visiting hours.  It didn’t matter how tired I was, how sick I was of hospital cafeteria food and fast food or how uncomfortable and depressing the environment was in that hospital.  I wasn’t there for me so I reached deep within myself and was determined to be there for my son.  I was exhausting vacation time, leave of absence from work and my savings, and none of that mattered because my son’s life mattered much more to me than all of those things combined ever would be able to and much more.  I wish I could describe for you how much it hurt me to see my son in that condition.  Oh how I wish I could have somehow traded places with Keoni and it could have been me lying in that hospital bed instead of him.   I wish I could tell you why it didn’t work and the quality of care and treatment for my son didn’t improve.  It didn’t matter so much that they continued to treat me and my husband indifferently.  After all, I wasn’t there for them to like me and once we got out of there with our son; that hospital wouldn’t have to ever worry about seeing us or dealing with us again.   Nevertheless, it did somewhat begin to eat at me a little bit.  I wondered why the staff acted like they just didn’t like us or want us to be there.  I joked with myself, I thought maybe they think I’m bipolar or something because I went from being nice to them to avoiding contact with them to being nice to them again.  I thought to myself that regardless of whether I personally liked the patient or their family wouldn’t I do everything in my power to provide that patient the absolute best level of care that I could?  Could a human life really be that insignificant to someone that they could potentially just stereotype that person and discount them as being someone or something not worthy of their best treatment and concern?  I’m not in the medical practitioner’s arena, but people and human life has always mattered to me.   I am beginning to hear about numerous stories wherein cancer has been misdiagnosed and portions of the body had been removed (her breasts), only to find that the person didn’t really have cancer.   I have had people share with me stories about how their loved ones charts were not read and they were administered medications that were clearly stipulated in their charts not to be administered to them.  I guess I must be quite naïve perhaps, because there are there are numerous articles written about doctors who have had excessive malpractice allegations brought against them, who purposely overcharge and instances wherein they have sexually assaulted patients while they were unconscious.  I am not suggesting that we all go into a panic and over-react, but what I am suggesting is that we all make it a point to evaluate the ratings for the hospitals and doctors who provide care for us and our loved ones before we simply assume that we are going to receive the benefit of their best care and concern.  It is far better, in my opinion to take a little time to check to see how a  hospital is rated in the area of care that your loved