A little bit luckier

For two harrowing weeks, I experienced the health care system from the other side. My grandmother, visiting from India, had a fall that turned into an emergency room visit that turned into an electrolyte imbalance that turned into an idiopathic neurological problem that turned into a coma that turned into her unexpected death. Less than two weeks after what seemed like a routine fall, she died.

The ten days my grandmother spent in the hospital confused all of us. One night, she got two CT scans and an MRI (she was under-insured and no one gave us a straight answer about billing). She saw a doctor roughly every twelve hours, and we relied mostly on her nurses for information about her health and schedule. We got excited about an occupational therapist who never showed up. A young, probably exhausted resident ordered an extensive procedure without explaining it, her attending canceled it, the specialist ordered it again, and finally, it was not performed. We had to remind her health care teams to change her, move her, give her medications, and even take the necessary labs. My father and I ensured that one of us was always in the room, but we were both moved almost to tears on several occasions by the difficult of receiving not only care but also basic information about her status.

A year ago, I would have cursed the hospital for this treatment. Now, I understand how tired the resident must have been, and I know the feeling of waiting for your attending, worried about asking a stupid question. I know that a hospitalist can see two dozen patients a day.  I see how hard nurses work. I vaguely understand the process of making a differential diagnosis, and I know that when a pattern is not easily recognizable, the process can be arduous, didactic, and, yes, expensive.

What if my grandmother were a young woman with children to care for? What if her son were not able to take two weeks off of work to be with her almost full time? What if she did not have physicians in her family who could use back channels to advocate for her care? Even with family friends with privileges at the hospital, her son by her side, and a granddaughter in medical school, my grandmother languished in the hospital for a week before leaving without a diagnosis. It’s not just the “others,” the “healthcare illiterate,” who are scared and confused in hospitals. My father is an educated, highly successful man, and he was flummoxed by the doctors’ schedules and recommendations. I am a medical student, and I felt helpless every moment I was there.

The hospital, where we gossip, laugh, share stories about our weekend trysts, is not a terrifying place “for other people.” It is a terrifying place for anyone who is there because they are sick, or someone they love is sick. The difference between our patients and ourselves is nothing more than circumstance.

I hope that our system evolves so that an unexpected hospital visit does not have the possibility to bankrupt a family. I hope that we are able to incentivize bright, hard working people like the nurses I met to need the growing needs of our health care system. I hope that medical research continues to expand the edges of our knowledge, laid so painfully bare by this case. Most importantly, I hope that my peers and I remember that we are on our side of the hospital bed not because we are special, not because we are intrinsically better or even different than those we care for, but because we are a little bit luckier. I hope we remember to care for our patients and their families as though they are our own, because not so infrequently, they are.

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Comments

  1. Anushka – Thank you for sharing this difficult experience, and for your part in taking hopeful action for the future of our health care system.

  2. Anushka: what an experience. I am very sorry for yours and your family’s loss. Thank you for making us wiser by allowing us to see things through your eyes, even under such difficult and personal circumstances.

  3. Thank you for sharing your experience. I too experienced the hospital inpatient side I was the patient after a major surgery I left the hospital after 9 days without ever getting a bath and I was left to the point of tears without pain meds given and feeling like I was the burden on the help. Second stay I was told very abruptly that I have a disease. There is no cure for what I have and so it is an ongoing misadventure everytime I come in.

  4. What a moving story. It’s hard for everybody. I hope your family’s doing OK.

  5. Thank you, readers, for the supportive comments. @thrallj: We appreciate you sharing your personal story. OHSU patients are encouraged to utilize the Patient Relations office if they need assistance or advocacy.

  6. You are not alone. I was recently hospitalized and got to experience healthcare lying down. I’ve been a physician for 30 years and I’m a grad of OHSU OB/Gyn residency. I had every resource available to me: insurance, friends in high places, a loving family at my side, and a private hospital and yet I still experienced many of the things that you describe. Too many doctors in the mix, no one communicating with each other or with me, and one frustration after another. Our healthcare system is in transition (I hope) and I’m so grateful for young physicians who can see a better delivery system. Remember how you feel now and don’t let med school or residency beat it out of you. You can always do better for your patients.
    Tracey @whatsfordinnerdoc.com I plan to post about my hospitalization this week. Be well

About the Author

Elizabeth Zdunich is a communications specialist in the OHSU School of Medicine Dean's Office.
StudentSpeak

StudentSpeak

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