Michael Commane
I remember the morning my mother died. Dad and I were called to the hospital before 6am. Mum died as we arrived. I was standing at her bedside crying, when the priest chaplain arrived. He told me to ‘get a hold of myself’ and started muttering inaudible, meaningless prayers at breakneck speed.
Later I meant to follow up on his behaviour but I never did. The man certainly should not have been let near a hospital bed.
That was 1988 and 32 years later I was back thinking about him. In hindsight I should have reported the man’s bad behaviour.
Two weeks ago I had to visit the emergency department of a hospital, one of those hospitals that is considered a centre of excellence.
I had a good idea what the problem was and a catheter had to be inserted. For starters, that is painful. But it was one long night of terror.
Yes, I did scream as the catheter was being inserted. Earlier that day I had cycled across a mountain in quite some pain, so honestly I don’t think I’m a wimp.
Indeed I had climbed 544 metres on the bicycle.
While being examined by the registrar, I was in such pain I held on to her arm. She curtly asked me to remove my hand from her arm. Some time later she came back to the cubicle and asked me could she carry out an examination. I consented. But she simply walked off and never carried out the examination.
At one stage I asked her a question to which she replied that she was busy.
A junior doctor attached a bag to my leg. In a most flippant manner he explained how to operate a release valve. I had no idea what he was saying. I hope if I were explaining a bicycle tube valve to someone unfamiliar with the mechanism I would be more understanding and patient than my young doctor.
The two people I encountered on the night who showed humanity and kindness were a junior doctor from the Far East and a nurse from Africa.
The night of terror began close to 7pm and at approximately 02.40 on Sunday morning I was told to go home. From a wall-phone in the hospital I called for a taxi. Waiting time for next available taxi was one hour.
I appreciate the world and its mother is under great stress right now. And especially in hospitals, where staff have been through experiences they never dreamed of and nor did they ever read about in text books.
The experience has of course set me thinking. It has also crossed my mind, as a taxpayer, funding that hospital and the medical staff who treated me that evening, I certainly did not get value for money.
But most of all I was shown little or no respect. I would also question some of the medical advice I was given.
Some days later I was admitted to a smaller rural hospital, where I have received the best of care and was shown a respect that made me feel good in myself.
Bill Clinton’s strategist James Carville is famous for his quip, ‘It’s the economy, stupid’ . And it is of course smart. But I’d much prefer to go with: ‘I’ts respect that matters’. And I’d leave out ‘stupid’.
Along with everything else during my night of terror, I was made feel stupid.
Everyone deserves respect. It’s the making of us. No one should be made feel stupid.
No comments:
Post a Comment