Been busy with life and whatnot. My younger brother Geoff hit a minivan on his motorcycle, pretty busted up. R shoulder and 5th metacarpal, L radius, L pelvis open book fracture. Thank God my Mom is an anesthesiologist with 40 years experience and Heather is a sharp as a tack ER/ICU nurse. If you ever have to go in the hospital for anything, I highly recommend you have someone 24/7 by your side, otherwise "They" will try to KILL you!

So Mom and Dad are down at the ICU, a few days after the wreck, still waiting on his surgery to fix his pelvis and stabilize the L wrist. He of course also has a broken R hand, and has a call button and a PCA with a zero basal rate(no meds if no button push)neither of which he can use. He is also a smoker, or more accurately an ex-smoker, hence is coughing up sputum and needs suctioned, as a broken pelvis makes it tough to wiggle around. They kick the families out at shift change, to give the nurses another reason to boss the families around, so Mom and Dad are in the waiting area.

Geoff coughs up some sputum , can't work the call light and calls out for help. The nurse comes n to see what is wrong, and he is afraid he is going to choke. She proceeds to give him a ration of shit for calling out, makes her think something is really wrong, use the call light. He replys, like I told you for the last 2(two) days, I can't work the buttons, or the suction you have laying next to my broken hand. She is pissed and he is scared they are gonna let him die, but that was the nurse who was leaving. The doctor(anesthesia resident) comes in, and Geoff tells him he does not want that nurse caring for him again, relating the recent incident. The resident goes out, talks to the charge nurse, comes back and give Geoff a ration of shit. The nurses are underpaid and overworked, we are understaffed, so they work extra hard, don't give them trouble. Guy walks out, Mom and Dad walk in, Geoff tells them what happens, points out the fellow in question and the folks call him in.

The guy proceeds to try starting an argument about it, "I need to confront him if he is going to accuse me of yelling at him!", as he becomes more heated. Dad tries to calm him down, and if a 6' 1" barrel chested 275# man is trying to calm me down, I am listening closely. Resident is having none of it, and after Dad calmly tries to invite him to step outside the room, he gives him the firm poke in the chest with that hot dog he calls his index finger to knock his train of thought off the track, and tells him, "You, out, Now!" in the voice you use on the dog that pissed on your Persian rug.

Mom, who is very diminitive and calm in the face of circumstances that would make most blanch and start blubbering, is waiting for the young doctor in training. "I understand you are under a great deal of stress, in my 40 years practicing as an anesthesiologist I experienced my share. You chose to be here, he did not. I never yelled at a patient, and I can't think of less appropriate person to do that to, scared, in pain, helpless and with no way to get any help besides calling out." He did not have much to say, scurried off, and Mom made another entry in her journal.

There were a lot of near death experiences that Heather and Mom saved him from. Like when Heather saved him from an anoxic brain injury and a lifetime in an institution about 90 minutes after I told the resident he was not stable enough to transfer out of the ICU, but that is another story. Things got better after Mom got to be friends with the Dean of Trauma Surgery. Turns out she was already buddies with the Senior Thoracic Surgeon, when he ran up to her and gave her a hug the first time he saw her, things changed a bit, the Trauma Surgery guy came up later that day.

So if your Mom does not happen to be nice anesthesiologist who everyone likes and respects, who is friends with all the senior doctors in town who would intervene on her behalf without being asked, watch out if you go in the hospital for anything. Oh, and get your brother to marry an smart nurse.

He is home and rehabbing now, gotta go

Toby

Hospital Story #2

My mom is seventy-one years old. She has had FOUR emergency surgeries in the last seven weeks.

She also has endured two emergency ambulance rides from her remote home here at the edge of the desert to the hospital. The last one to the Mayo Clinic Hospital here in Phoenix, all involving vascular disease.

She is about 95 pounds of tough Irish lady, soaking wet.

This past Saturday morning they had to do another emergency surgery as in the course of SAVING HER LIFE, utilizing surgery, THEY LEFT A LAP BAND (sponge) within her that had damn near killed her last Thursday or so.

She is so cut up one would have to see it to believe it, Frankenstein-like.

I never was never quite aware what a 'toughie' my little mom is til now.

I would not want to 'take her on in a dark alley' as she is a little badass and not afraid of a knife!

regards,

John

P.S. Well, I'm off to the hospital, my new second home.

P.P.S. Please reserve the prayers, she does not seem to need them.

Toby,
I would gather from the circumstance and the description that your brother is at UCDMC?

I am no stranger to debilitating accidents, surgery or hospitals, Thank God

your brother had his family there to watch over him. It is hard enough to

deal with the fact that you are in there in the first place. We are our brothers

keepers, Good Job.

You weren't planning to, were you? j/k
Glad everyone's doing well now.
Mark D.

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It's always good to have a family member camp out in the room at all times to monitor what the docs and nurses are doing. I know they'll hate your guts for doing this, but get them to tell you exactly what meds are being administered, what the dosages are, and how often they're needed, write it all down and make your own chart. Every time they come in to administer drugs, you ask them what it is, and how much they're giving, and mark it off on your chart. They'll hate you for doing this, tell you it's completely unnecessary, blah, blah, blah, just nod and tell them you don't care.