Mom's a lot better and things are returning to normal, thank you. It's been a couple of rough days, and I thank those of you who sent encouraging messages, especially those that said, "No need to respond." I don't know how in one week, I could slip three weeks behind on everything I'm doing, but I somehow managed.
I continue to battle many bureaucracies to make sure she has the treatment and equipment she needs…and the last few days, this has required an ungodly number of phone calls, waiting on "hold" and then finding out that I have waited 15+ minutes for a call which ultimately connects with the wrong person.
By this, I mean that someone says, "You'll have to speak to Mr. Jones in our Glendale office about that. I'll transfer you." And then they transfer me and I wait and wait and wait, only to eventually have my call answered by Ms. Smith in the Van Nuys office who has nothing to do with my issue. Twice, I have been given phone numbers to call, only to have the numbers turn out to be of the non-working variety. In both cases, this meant starting all over with dialing the main number. (I've learned to ask people if they can give a direct number to get back to them in case we're disconnected or I am wrongly routed. In most cases, they cannot.)
I've also encountered bizarre applications of the principles of medical confidentiality. At the hospital where my mother stayed for several days, the medical personnel will tell me absolutely anything I want to know about her condition, medication, treatment, etc., merely because I call up and say I'm her son. The accounting people, however, will not tell me how much her co-payments will be because they can only release that information to the patient.
What I've had to do in the last week has not been impossible but it's been very time-consuming and annoying. I keep wondering about patients who don't have someone else to make these calls. A person could not recover from a serious illness and spend hours on the phone straightening out mistakes and omissions. It is possible to get good health care in this country but too often, it involves someone staying on top of the situation and making certain that what's supposed to be done is done when it's supposed to be done.
The doctors and nurses have all been wonderful but the folks who juggle schedules and push papers are either less than competent or they've been plugged into a dysfunctional system. Today on the phone, a nice lady told me that someone had wrongly cancelled a certain appointment. Her computer did not allow her to uncancel it, nor could it tell us who had cancelled it and/or who had the power to reinstate it. It took me around 20 minutes (19 of them on "hold") to locate that person and practically threaten them into overriding procedure and making things right.
Hey, here's a cute little story I have to share with you: Very early Thursday morning, I was in the Emergency Room at U.C.L.A. Medical Center with my mother…and I must say, she received superb treatment. Everyone was nice and efficient and, well, if you absolutely have to be in such a place, that's the place.
My mother was on a gurney surrounded by one of those flimsy curtains they have in hospitals. Next to us, there was another gurney with another woman on it, and I could not help but overhear what was transpiring over there. The lady, who was maybe sixty, had been brought in with some sort of balance problem — an inner ear disorder, I believe I heard the doctor say. Whatever it was, she could not stand without falling. She had fallen twenty-four times in as many hours, and was clinging to that gurney for precious life.
The doctor — same one who treated my mother — was a charming, authoritative man. He looked like Pernell Roberts, sans toup and spoke like Ricardo Montalban, sans accent. Having treated her and decreed that the problem was gone, he asked her to stand. She was too scared to do this. "I'll fall over," she said.
He assured her she would not. A male intern came over and the doctor promised that they'd stand on either side of her and prevent her from falling. She refused. He promised her there was no way she could fall. She said no, she couldn't. The doctor told her she couldn't stay there on that gurney forever. She didn't answer. She just clutched the side of the gurney and held on, tight and trembling.
Calmly, and with a disarming friendly manner, he engaged her in conversation. Where was she from? What did she do? Did she have any hobbies? Two minutes into this chat, she happened to mention that she'd once been a champion ballroom dancer.
The doctor brightened. "Oh, it's been so long since I've danced with someone who really knows how. Would you dance with me?"
The woman looked at him (I assume — I was just listening) like he was nuts. "D-dance with you? Here?"
He said, "Why not? Just a few steps. Do it for me…please."
I don't know if it was because he was so charming or because he was a doctor but, sure enough, the woman slowly turned loose of the gurney and allowed him to help her to her feet. Within moments, I could see them dancing around the small amount of open space in the Emergency Room. There was no music, of course, but the doctor hummed and they waltzed about for maybe a minute.
Just as I was about to ask if I could cut in, the doctor stepped lightly away from her, leaving her standing there…on her feet, in full possession of her balance. If you'd seen the expression on this woman's face — tears of joy as she realized she was not falling — you'd have witnessed one big reason why people become doctors.
I have to get back to work. On my breaks, I'm catching up on websites I routinely read so I'll probably post some links here tonight.