Did I Overreact? Post your bad hospital stays

I am amazed that you put up with as much as you did. All of my hospital stays have be just that in the hospital but not at home. The care was good and the service responsive to my needs and wants. I sure hope I never do!
I do beleive you have some thing to complain about.

What an awful experience! It’s easy for us to say that you should never have put up with that for so long, but when you feel bad and are somewhat at the mercy of the people who are “helping” you, it’s hard to do at the time.

I do think it’s worth reporting (in writing). Unless they know what the problems are, they won’t get fixed, and you or someone else, may encounter the same problems again. Plus preparing the letter should give you a good way to rid yourself of the anger you must be feeling.

You already posted a great outline for a letter to the hospital. I would go from there and add names and specific dates and room numbers etc and mail it…keeping a copy for yourself and sending a few copies to maybe your attorney, government departments that inspect the hospitals and their services. The list is endless. Even a copy to the editor of your local newpaper or TV advocates on your local stations. Think we knew what was going on and if we don’t speak out, think of the poor patients that are not in as good of health and frame of mind that you were in.

I have a really bad list of things that happened and just let them drop too! Now your message got me fired up to make a list and fire it off as a good letter to the head of those departments.

Your stay was short…mine was 9 weeks so I have a long list!

For example the Nurse in the ICU that was adjusting my tubing on my trache and her hand slipped and knocked it out! Air coming out all over the place. After what seemed to be 30 minutes of her pushing and pulling and my exhaustion. I finally told her by lip reading that I wanted her to get the Doctor. He come in and the air either inflated my chest or lung to the point I was trying to get their attention that my chest was in extreme pain. Doctor said “Here we go!” Asked the Nurse if she wanted to insert the tube into my side thru the ribs. She agreed quickly but added she had never done that procedure. Now remember I could not speak! With that the doctor grabbed my arm and pulled it above my head, producing terrible pain in my frozen shoulder. I made a face as I turned my head to look away and the Nurse yelled at me “Don’t you try to bite me!” Beleive me at that point I did not want or ever had wanted to bite a person.

On several occasions I “floated” the ventilator and felt like I was drowning. Agine not being able to speak the problem was fixed. Once by a quick acting ICU Nurse and next by a Doctor that just happened to be around.

In Rehab they told me to make sure I did not get exhausted but worked me once in the morning and then in the afternoon. Brought me back and while transferring me to my bed let me fall. Next they tried to lift me back to my feet using my shoulder and the walker. I colasped twice. The second time hanging myself by the arm pits over the sides of the walker. Finally I told them to go and get a lift team that two tiny nurses were not going to lift me back into my bed or into the wheel chair. Took a male Nurse and a Security Guard to get me back into the wheel chair and then back into my bed. By then they had picked me up by my shoulders 6 times. From that time on I had ato be on pain pills for my shoulders and left the hospital still in pain. After rehab had ended I could see my shoulder was going to be frozen if I did not take this problem under my control and went to a chiropractor that turned things around in weeks after the hospital workers had made it worse for months.

I could go on but my fingers are tired! I have to admit the food was great in the hospital. I had Turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes and gravy each week and also Salmon with peas and carrots each week. Breakfasts were great minus the cardboard waffles but the rest was excellent! Lunches were always so different whether it was a fancy salad or a sandwich. A few times they brought me my two containers of diet iced tea but they were not just COLD they were FROZEN SOLID!

Giving my fingers a break!

Just putting it down in writing has helped with those bad memories! I put up with the Sassy Aids and some of their comments. Meals missed because my Nurse went home ill and they were understaffed.

After being put on regular soft foods the Aid told me to now chew my scramble eggs and my fruit Yogurt….sorry I had to chew my food to get rid of the chunck. I also asked for the same Aid to open my food containers and she yelled at me for holding her up from going to lunch with her friends. I did speak up and said I would do it myself and for her to leave the room. She then backed down and opened the containers that I could not reach quickly! I was like a dog protecting a bone! Only time in 9 weeks I was nasty to my Aids, Nurses or Doctors and the last!

I was not thinking fast at first and rude comments were made when a lift team had to come in and move me up in the bed or transfer me to another bed or stretcher or wheelchair. I did not have my strenght yet to even help lift a finger. They talked about me like I was not there. Talked about my skin breaking down, bed sores and wondering how blind I really was! One even asked me how blind I was. I said I can see so well there is two of you! So I can see you if you are over there or OVER THERE! LOL

Funny how thoughts come back! I also should start a thread about humorous experiences I had….those were the times that kept me going all that time! My daily job was to have 4 or 5 brags to tell my family and friends and share them with the staff. But my sense of humor pulled me thru all the bad times and replaced my fears daily.

What appalling reports.

Every hospital/nursing home with substandard patient care should be reported to the state in which you live. I can only speak for New York State but all institutions in this state are monitored, even though the process is sometimes less than thorough. Send copies of your letters to the licensing boards, Medicare, Medicaid, local media including newspapers and tv stations.

Bless you all,
Marge

As we’ve mentioned in the past, unannounced and unscheduled visits by caregivers really help. Forget the hospital rules…just walk in and look around. Demand to see manuals and copies of rules. Demand photocopies of pertinent pages from manuals.

Use teamwork…your roommates probably have the same complaints.

Regards,
Marge

Hello,
You might want to read the book, “Bed Number Ten” by Sue Baier. It tells her experiences with GBS. It is a bit dated as far as treatments etc. but still a very good read. A nurse at my Doctor’s office told me about it. She said it was required reading when she was a nursing student.
Bonnie:cool:

My posts on this subject are angry, and I think background might help. I am asthmatic and on December 28, 1998 had what I thought was a severe asthma attack. The last thing I remember is calling 911. Two ambulances showed up, one with a doctor, and I ended up in a small Catholic (low budget) hospital in NYC, totally paralyzed, on steroids. Six weeks later I was in a nursing home associated with the hospital.

It took months to regain some use of my hands but no movement at all below the waist as well as horrific breathing problems and a very passive/aggressive attitude toward everyone and everything. It took the doctors eight months to get my lungs into condition for bowel surgery. The head of rehab at the nursing home thought pt for someone with my medical history was a waste of their resources and unilaterally cancelled all physical therapy. I finally stood–for 20 seconds–11 months after onset after my daughter and my closest friends finally were able to deal with the pt situation.

I now live alone, walking with a cane, and consider myself a very fortunate woman. Two years in the hospital/nursing home/hospital, etc. taught my daughter and me the importance of standing up for myself (sorry for bad pun) after having been through the mill.

Regards,
Marge

P.S. The head of rehab at the nursing home was fired for cause several years later. We hope that all the complaints made to New York State were one of the reasons.

I’ll bet that at least a couple of you encountered a less than
perfect roommate during your hospitalization(s). I called mine
the roommate from hell. When I was stricken with Guillain-Barre
Syndrome, the hospital’s neurological floor was full of patients so
they temporarily placed me in a cardiac room. I was paralyzed from
the neck down and definitely not feeling my best so I was happy to
see that I had the two-bed room to myself. Unfortunately that soon
changed when they wheeled in the “roommate from hell.”

The 40’ish male was morbidly obese and suffering from his untreated
hypertension and diabetes. When he was settled in, I managed to turn
my face toward him and introduce myself. He didn’t look at me but
managed to scowl and grunt his name, “Bob.” I give everyone the benefit
of the doubt and surmised that Bob was having a very bad day and that
I’d let him socialize if and when he was ready. Well, Bob’s ill
temper progressed from bad to worse. When he wasn’t blasting the
volume on his TV, he was cussing and yelling at friends and family on
his phone, threatening to leave the hospital because the doctors and
nurses were putting him through all of this “bullshit.”

I’m 6′ 4,” 220 lbs. and I’ve always enjoyed the luxury of having a
great deal of physical and mental strength. Under normal
circumstances, I would have firmly but politely told Bob that if he
didn’t cease and desist from his childish, rude and thoughtless
behavior, I was going to throw his 300 lb. a** out of our fourth
floor window and claim that he was suicidal and had jumped. But here
I was, paralized and stuck with an angry, cursing and clearly
unstable gorilla of a roommate and so I decided to grin and bear his
abuse.

That night, I was exhausted from a full day in the ER and the affects
of the GBS but still found it difficult to sleep. Bob, bless his
heart, wasn’t helping at all. Every time I began to feel relaxed and
hopeful that sleep would follow, Bob would wake up having to go to
the bathroom and would proceed to throw a loud temper tantrum due to
the inconvenience caused by his IV pole and all his monitor
connections. He would curse loudly while slamming his IV pole into
anything that hindered his trip to the toilet. Every time he returned
to bed, he turned the TV back on high volume until he fell asleep
without turning the TV off. This went on all night long.

First thing the next morning, I asked to speak to the head
administrative nurse, Connie. I calmly told Connie all that had
transpired and that I could not spend another night in the same room
with Bob. She said she would see what she could do and left. Well,
Connie was a real sweetheart. She returned in a couple of hours with
two orderlies and said, “Let’s go, I got you a room on the
neurological floor.”

My new room was also a double but, thankfully, I was the only patient
in the room. My condition hadn’t improved any but without Bob, I felt
better anyway. I also had better luck getting some rest my second
night in the hospital. The next day, I thought I heard a familiar
bellow followed by a string of cuss words coming from somewhere just
down the hall from my new room. No way, I thought, it couldn’t be
Bob! But it was Bob and the irony of Bob following me caused me to
lie there chuckling like a character in a bad horror movie just
before he starts slicing and dicing.

I listened to Bob’s constant whining and verbal abuse of his visitors
and the hospital staff for the rest of that day. Thankfully, I asked
that my room’s door be closed that night so that I didn’t have to
endure more of Bob’s atrocious behavior.

The next morning, “Saint” Connie came to my room and announced
that, “due to my special needs,” she was moving me to a private room.
If I wasn’t paralyzed, I would have jumped up and kissed her. The
private room was a large, corner room with two big windows, one of
which offered a view of a peacefully green atrium and the other of
the famous Woodward Avenue where I was able to see all of the classic
cars and customized hot rods cruising by during the annual Woodward
Dream Cruise week. It made me feel lucky despite having the
misfortune to be one of the one or two people in 100,000 to be
stricken with GBS.

I spent the next three weeks in my “penthouse room.” I got my five
days of IVIG (intravenous immunoglobulin) there and began my fairly
rapid recovery. I even passed Bob in the halls a couple of times on
my way to PT. I couldn’t be angry at him, I just felt sorry for
someone who’s life had to be so miserable for him to treat others the
way that he did. If I ever get to that point, I think I’d like for
someone to just shoot me, please!

Joe

7:26 AM – 0 Comments – 0 Kudos – Add Comment

Good for you for reporting this AWFUL treatment!!! They should not be allowed to do that to you or to anyone without repercussions. Maybe your letter will help make sure nobody else gets the same treatment there.

Please be sure to send a copy of this to your PCP and his/her employer or practice partners, and tell them “shame of you” for not standing up for your patient.