By Rhona Canoy
Second part
SO… You’re going to need to do some backtracking and read Part 1 of this for you to grasp what’s going on. I hope you do (if you haven’t yet) because this matters more than we know. And it seems that more people actually sympathize with this issue, having similar horror stories which they never really openly discussed. Until now.
Okay, we’ve covered having to buy your own meds and medical supplies. And being careful to make records of these purchases and endorsements to the nurses’ station. The medical supplies matter because even the most common items matter. If you don’t have your own supply of masks and surgical gloves, each time a nurse enters your hospital room to deal with the patient wearing these things, they get charged to the hospital supply depot and added to your bill. Yes, they have one that’s a separate entity from the pharmacy.
Going back to the meds. If for any reason you need the medications immediately, rather than ordering it from the nurses’ station, here’s what you do. Schlepp your way to the hospital pharmacy, prescription in hand, and pay cash for the purchase there. It may still cost a bit more than the outside pharmas, but not as much as having it delivered to your room. Did you know that? And half the time, they’ll tell you that they don’t have the item in stock. This I find rather disturbing because I would assume that time is of the extreme essence in a hospital situation.
In mama’s case, because of her quite advanced age, we were always given the privilege of having her room be in front of the nurses’ station. Or maybe because her husband is a local celebrity of sorts, they didn’t want any negative publicity should something untoward occur. And yet, in spite of the proximity to the station, whenever one of her gadgets would emit an alarm, often we would have to peek out the door and call the nurse on duty to come and check.
Hospital personnel, although seemingly well-trained at their jobs, lack a certain amount of empathy not just for the patient but for the family members as well. I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. Please, hospital people. When we find ourselves in a hospital admit situation, we are nervous as hell. Worried, agitated, ill-at-ease. And that’s not even talking about the patient. We are scared. And we need you to acknowledge that and be considerate of it.
A little kindness and less brusqueness are appreciated. A softer tone rather than an impatient one will help us to feel more assured. And what is it with those ceiling lights and doors? I do understand that you are bound by your job to make regular room checks throughout the day and night. You will have to enter the room every few hours, do your temperature and blood pressure checks, make sure the IV drip is still viable, and whatever else you have to do. We get it.
But when you have to enter the room at 1:30 in the morning, we get that you have to turn on the lights to be able to see what you’re doing. Even before that, the way you knock on the door is enough to wake up a drunken fireman. Be a little more considerate. At least, there are a few who (after a few soft knocks) will enter the room and in a soothing voice, tell you they’re going to turn on the lights. But then, they leave after their job is done, leaving those fluorescent or LED lights to shine as bright as the morning sun. Do they assume that we want to stay awake after they leave? Even the patient has to sleep. Turn down the lights. And what’s with the door slamming? I don’t get it.
Services are what one expects from a hospital after all. Because mama was already unable to navigate her way to the bathroom or to use a bedpan, she had to wear adult diapers. God help you if you need help to change them. For some reason, Filipino nurses are reticent to help with this task. If they do have to come to give a hand, they will unceremoniously and without tenderness (with a mad scowl on their face), yank and push the patient around. There were a few I truly wanted to slap silly. And yet, when they get to the foreign hospital of their dreams, they will tenderly wipe excrement from a white ass with nary a nose wrinkle at the smell.
And back to the meds. Here’s the worst (for me) of all. Do you know how you eventually have to pay a deposit? Well, God help you if you run out of credit in the middle of the night when your patient needs some emergency meds. The nurse will come back in and give you a scrip, saying that the pharmacy will no longer release it because your credit limit has been exceeded. Try having this happen on a weekend night when time is of the essence.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. They conveniently have ATMs scattered around the hospital. But all those machines do is release money, and only if you have a positive bank balance. They don’t solve the problem of making the medicine available to the patient. That will have to wait for the billing office which keeps regular business hours, and the cashier. And those ATMs? The hospital also makes money there because banks have to pay them for the privilege of putting the machines there. Oh, and after the machine spits out your money, you still have to make a pharmacy trip at God-knows-what o’clock to get the necessary pharmaceuticals.
Don’t even get me started on those laboratory tests. If your patient should (God forbid) need lab tests, that’s another ordeal it and of itself. You have to go down to the lab with your lab order. Then after the lab has duly noted it and given you a billing receipt, you then have to make your way to the cashier (the only hospital office that stays open 24/7). After paying, you make your way back to the lab counter with your receipt in hand to show evidence that you’ve paid for their services. Then and only then will they send the lab tech to the hospital room to procure whatever bodily fluids they need to run those tests.
My brother (who thankfully has lived in a more developed country) provided such firmness when he arrived. To everything that the hospital limited or demanded, his only response was, “That’s not acceptable.” In a previous medical crisis a few years back, mama was confined to the ICU and her doctors were careful to monitor that her kidneys weren’t failing. This necessitated a blood test every six hours. Do the math. For whatever devilish policy, it turns out that lab fees are not covered by any deposit that you pay to these extortionists.
I really thought I would be done at Part 2 but it turns out I’m only getting warmed up. Keep following this teleserye and be prepared. Actually, be warned would be more accurate.
