Features

Notes from the hospital

Lois Crispi
Friday January 27, 2017 - 02:41:00 PM

The reporter from the land of the disabled has spent the last three weeks in a hospital. 

Hospitals, doctors, nurses, physicians’ assistants, certified nurses’ assistant, physical, occupational, speech therapists (and others not listed here), all of which you need, as part of your course requirement is to spend one week, with a totally debilitating, condition where you have no choice but to pee or poop in a bed pan while someone just happens to walk into your room. Forget you had dignity and modesty, they are left at the threshold of your door. While there I’ve come to realize that the situation of the hospitalized patient is quite similar to the disabled. 

Do you know what it’s like to be intubated, with a tube up your nose and down your throat? Do you know what it’s like to not to be able to hear, to wake up in a straight jacket because they are afraid the tube(s) or IV’s will be pulled out? Do you know what it feels like to not be able to talk, ask a simple question like: What happened to me? Try as you may, you are ignored. We should at least be able to know. If you're conscious you can stare at the ceiling, or watch the second hand of a clock.  

Do you know what it feels like to NOT be spoken to; some simple explanation of what happened? It is appalling the manner in which people are treated in hospitals. My sorrow and regret goes to the deaf and hard of hearing, the blind, short individuals or any condition that strips your ability to understand and participate. Do you know how it feels to wait two and a half hours for a bedpan, or sit on a commode that is wobbly and your feet do not reach the floor, your back hurts, and you’re cold. Even though you’ve called for the nurse three times, it’s forty-five minutes before anyone appears. “I’ll be right back,” should be printed on every diploma given to a caretaker. They work hard, are short staffed and are under paid. We are both (patient and caretaker) victims of the system. 

As your disabled supporter from the hospital, let me stop at this point. (the saga will continue).