I am allergic to adhesives. This means I am allergic to tape, glue, stickers, Band-Aids, and basically everything that can be used to stick things to things. I am also allergic to Coban wrap, despite the fact that Coban wrap does not actually stick to things that are not other bits of Coban wrap.
I informed you of this. Multiple times. My foster mother also informed you of this. My foster sister gave you an amazingly detailed description of how my skin literally peeled off when she ripped duct tape off of it when I was helping her decorate our room.
My foster mother reminded you of this when you were starting my IV, and asked if you could please fasten it with something that didn't stick. When you reached for the Coban wrap, she asked if you could wrap my hand with a layer of gauze first so the wrap wouldn't touch my skin.
Then you escorted her and my foster sister out of the room, put down the Coban wrap, and proceeded to tape down my IV with one of those clear sheets of sticky plastic and about half a roll of medical tape. I told you I was allergic to adhesives. You ignored me.
Thanks for assuming that I was lying about my allergies when I didn't complain about the EKG leads, by the way. Not complaining doesn't mean that I was lying about being allergic to tape; it means that I'm a sensible person and realize that there probably isn't a different way to attach the leads to me. I don't need to be given a death glare and a "well, I guess you're not really allergic, now are you? This is a hospital, not a hotel."
We won't even get into how nobody in the entire ER knew how to pump someone's stomach, and admitted as much. "Sorry, nobody here has ever done this before! -giggle-" is not really the sort of thing you say to someone who is freaking out and puking all over everything because you don't know what you're doing with the tube you've stuck down her throat. I really appreciate you taking it out and shoving it back in three times to make sure you're doing it right!
Thanks for not letting me wash the taste of vomit and activated charcoal out of my mouth when you were done.
Oh, and thanks for not replacing the blanket that got covered in icy water, charcoal, and the contents of my stomach. It's not like you had the air conditioner on full blast on a typical cold, rainy Oregon evening or anything.
It was very nice of you to ignore my attempts to attract someone's attention so I could go to the restroom and change my tampon before I bled through it. Thanks for just giving me a pad and leaving the curtain open, so everyone could watch as I tried to sit up and untangle myself from the IV and EKG leads enough to stick it in my undies. Did I mention the severe stomach cramps that made it hard to move? That's why I was crying, not because I was being "overdramatic". Bitch.
I informed you of this. Multiple times. My foster mother also informed you of this. My foster sister gave you an amazingly detailed description of how my skin literally peeled off when she ripped duct tape off of it when I was helping her decorate our room.
My foster mother reminded you of this when you were starting my IV, and asked if you could please fasten it with something that didn't stick. When you reached for the Coban wrap, she asked if you could wrap my hand with a layer of gauze first so the wrap wouldn't touch my skin.
Then you escorted her and my foster sister out of the room, put down the Coban wrap, and proceeded to tape down my IV with one of those clear sheets of sticky plastic and about half a roll of medical tape. I told you I was allergic to adhesives. You ignored me.
Thanks for assuming that I was lying about my allergies when I didn't complain about the EKG leads, by the way. Not complaining doesn't mean that I was lying about being allergic to tape; it means that I'm a sensible person and realize that there probably isn't a different way to attach the leads to me. I don't need to be given a death glare and a "well, I guess you're not really allergic, now are you? This is a hospital, not a hotel."
We won't even get into how nobody in the entire ER knew how to pump someone's stomach, and admitted as much. "Sorry, nobody here has ever done this before! -giggle-" is not really the sort of thing you say to someone who is freaking out and puking all over everything because you don't know what you're doing with the tube you've stuck down her throat. I really appreciate you taking it out and shoving it back in three times to make sure you're doing it right!
Thanks for not letting me wash the taste of vomit and activated charcoal out of my mouth when you were done.
Oh, and thanks for not replacing the blanket that got covered in icy water, charcoal, and the contents of my stomach. It's not like you had the air conditioner on full blast on a typical cold, rainy Oregon evening or anything.
It was very nice of you to ignore my attempts to attract someone's attention so I could go to the restroom and change my tampon before I bled through it. Thanks for just giving me a pad and leaving the curtain open, so everyone could watch as I tried to sit up and untangle myself from the IV and EKG leads enough to stick it in my undies. Did I mention the severe stomach cramps that made it hard to move? That's why I was crying, not because I was being "overdramatic". Bitch.
Oh, and random old woman who came in around two AM?
I don't believe in your God, at least not in the way that you'd like me to believe in him. I don't need a lecture on how people who die by suicide go to Hell, or whatever it was that you were trying to tell me -- I'm not sure on the details, given that I was half-asleep at the time.
I listened to what you had to say about how God is forgiving and I probably still had a chance at Heaven, since I didn't actually die. I smiled and nodded and pretended I actually gave a crap, and I closed my eyes and played along when you decided that we should pray. That probably would have been it, had you not grabbed my wrist to see the pendant on my bracelet.
Yes, I'm wearing my pentacle. I'm Wiccan, you see, and I enjoy wearing a symbol that has meaning to me and my faith. You probably wouldn't even be able to see it, had I not chosen to wrap the cord around my wrist so I could hold the pentacle and take some comfort from it. Usually it's neatly tucked into my cleavage so it doesn't offend people like you.
I was already sick, in pain, stressed out, and tired. I just wanted them to figure out the details of how to transport me to the hospital in the next city because there wasn't room for me in this one; I didn't want a lecture about how I had been corrupted by Satan and that's why I tried to off myself. I guess I should be grateful that you stormed off and didn't try to pray with me again. D:
All the other stuff aside... am I right in thinking that having someone come in to pray with a patient who may or may not be at all interested, and then having that someone give a huge lecture or two, is bad_service?
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