When you hear about people having cancer, you can't really understand unless it's happened to someone in your family, at least that's how I felt. I couldn't fathom how suddenly cells in your own body became the enemy. I couldn't fathom how rapidly multiplying cells could be the source of so much pain. I didn't understand how slow and painfully cancer can move, but how quickly it could cause devastation.
I didn't understand any of this until July.
But really, the story begins early this year, when I heard from my Grandmother that she had a small piece of cancer on her ear and that they were cutting it off. It was extremely frustrating because between the first time they spotted it to the time they cut it off, it seemed to take forever. Why were they moving so slowly in cancer was so serious? Maybe because this one wasn't? Time passed, her cancer was cut off, and Grandma was on the mend. No more of that pesky, unfathomable cancer.
For the time being.
Then, in March, Grandma heard from a doctor with (as the story is told) an exceptionally terrible bedside manner, that she had another piece of cancer growing in her throat. I don't know what was going through my grandma's mind at that moment, but something definitely shifted. She didn't trust this doctor--not that she had ever been entirely trusting of doctors before, but this time it was somehow different. Between all of the stories of the poor care that others had received in and around our home town, she was scared. Something I came to understand when I spent some time in the hospital with her.
In July, she was admitted to the hospital in Goodland, Kansas. What's really unfortunate about this story was that it was entirely preventable. Earlier that same day, Gram had gone to a local hospital with one of her daughters. She had been fighting a MRSA infection which is already a huge threat to elderly patients, especially ones already fighting cancer. The infection wasn't getting better, so they had gone to the hospital in the hopes of getting her on an IV antibiotic. The doctor there immediately rejected her idea and sent her home.
That night, Grandma was in so much pain and misery, she called the ambulance to take her to the hospital. She thought she was dying. They took her to a different local hospital, and she was transferred to Hays. Her sodium levels were dangerously low, she had thrush in her mouth, and was still battling the MRSA infection and cancer. The hospitalist took one look at her and ordered IV antibiotics.
I'm still furious that she had to go through all of that when she could have easily been admitted to a hospital near home earlier that same day. I'm not going to pretend that I'm more qualified to know what's what in the medical profession than a doctor that's gone through med school or a PA that's gone through three years of preparation to care for patients, but I am beyond disappointed at the level of care that my grandma received, and it is a definite indicator of the failings of our medical system.
1) The doctor works for the patient. The patient through insurance, payments to the clinic, and even through their taxes helps fund the doctor's salary.
2) The healthcare system now is WAY too involved in CYA. Between the immense amount of paperwork, going to a hospital that accepts your type of insurance, social workers and whatever else, it's become a circus to get care.
3) Transfer of information is so difficult. Gram was in the hospital for days on end waiting for another office to send paperwork over to Hays.
4) The wait times. I understand hospitals are understaffed, but if a hospital is unable to care for patients, we need to change something. Either nurses need to be paid better, or the education needed to become a healthcare worker needs to decrease in favor of apprenticeships. But that all goes back to CYA. Gram would call and ask for pain medication, and it would be upwards of an hour before someone finally got around to bringing it to her.
5) The pride. I'm not saying all healthcare professionals are like this, but I've definitely experienced my fair share of it. Just like Gram going in to get IV antibiotics and not being given them, even though it is what she needed, we've all experienced things like this. I know doctors have gone to extreme amounts of schooling and are well-educated, but no one knows the patient's body better than the patient. And if it's something the patient really wants, what's wrong with humoring them (in a safe manner)?
I guess when I thought about going to school to be a nurse practitioner I kind of balked. Would I be adding to the problem? Would I be able to provide care in a way that I truly thought was best? Would I be able to provide solutions instead of just slapping a bandaid on the problem? And, lastly, would I be able to live with myself if I was the nurse practitioner that had sent a woman home, only to find out that hours later she was granted the same request that I had earlier denied to her detriment? Would I be able to hear people (like I am now) bashing the medical profession and all its flaws?
Probably not.
I think I could have enjoyed working with people and helping heal their various ailments. But my heart's just not there after everything my gram went through, and after all, don't patients deserve to have practitioners that whole-heartedly believe in what they are doing, and have their whole being devoted to improving the patients' lives?
Now I'm rambling. I won't post this on Facebook for tons of people to read, but it you do, I guess, this is my opinion. I don't hate doctors, and I generally think that they are good people that went into the profession to help people, but gosh, this sucks, and I wish things could have been different.
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