May 10th, 2012

Corfu

Oh, you're here for blood clots? Here, let us help you grow another so none get lonely..

All of these medical posts are bringing up some bad service from last April 2011.

I was admitted to NY Methodist hospital April 9th, 2011 with two pulmonary embolisms. yikes, right? painful beyond all description. The kind of pain where there is no past, no future only the present that's come to a standstill and all you can do is live IN the pain and make it part of you. Never again the blood clot times. After eight days, I'm released and put on short term disability. My instructions are to definitely rest but also do something upwardly mobile once a day, mostly in the form of walking. So I do that, but I pushed myself too hard and ended up back at the hospital five days later with a fever, intense pain, back muscle spasms, all sorts of fun things.

I'm re-admitted. And then spent the next five days being ignored and even made sicker.

For starters, the hospital staff kept forgetting to order my daily blood thinner shot. I had to keep reminding them. I need this once a day and it should be taken at the same time or as close to as possible so I don't accidently thin my blood too much and (ya know) DIE. Additionally, I'm taking a very specific type of blood thinner which has more potential adverse side effects, as standard blood thinners make my liver freak out. EVERY DAY THEY FORGOT. And one nurse coped an attitude with me on the third day and actually said: "Oh, well, I thought you brought your own medicine."

Uhm, that's not legal, I cannot bring random medicines from home into the hospital and just take them. Wrong. I just looked at her dumbfounded and she then muttered, 'fine, i'll put in the order'. FOUR HOURS LATER I get my damn shot.

At the same time this is being forgotten, so are my required morning blood draws to monitor my liver enzymes, both for the medicine I'm taking and to make sure my mystery feverish illness isn't attacking my liver.

They didn't remember ONCE. NOT ONCE. I had to remind them EVERY.SINGLE.DAY. And every single day, they were late and the blood was drawn too late in the day for that day's processing. Unbelievable!

Additionally, I also needed blood draws the first day because the doctors are trying to figure out what is making me so sick. Blood infection, perhaps? The nurse who took the samples was great, but they weren't instructed on all of the vials needed so more blood had to be drawn. The person who did it this time was the head doctor on call for this ward. She nicked me TWICE causing those huge bubble looking things to form on my skin. She was very apologetic but at the same time, let the nurse back who did it right the first time.

ON TOP of all this, I was given an IV in the crock of my arm when admitted to the ER. After the first 24 hours, this IV was not used again. This thing was never flushed out and HURT. I asked for THREE days to PLEASE remove the IV and to please flush it out. I was told I was being unreasonable by another nurse because they might have to give me fluids again and then they'll have to redo their work. Oh, boo hoo you poor thing you might have to do your job. HOW TERRIBLE FOR YOU.

I continued to tell everyone how much this was bothering me. I showed two doctors and three nurses that there was now an angry huge red welt that was feverishly GROWING by the IV injection site. I was ignored. They gave me some hot compresses for it then gave me cold compresses for it. What to the what?

FINALLY my main doctor who was in charge of my case during my first eight days in hospital showed up after she had a long weekend. I am relieved. She's fantastic, she'll save me. I nearly cried when I saw her. She took one look at my arm, raised holy hell, removed the IV and called in an infectious disease specialist.

Let me say that again. An INFECTIOUS DISEASE SPECIALIST.

I'm now diagnosed with a phlebitis. What's a phlebitis?? Well, it's basically the swelling of a vein...CAUSED BY A BLOOD CLOT. This happens with shitty IVs that are damaging the vein. This blood clot could have broken off, traveled to my heart and killed me or lodged in my lungs and killed me.

The hospital basically screwed up so badly I was now growing IN MY ARM the very thing that previously almost killed me two weeks prior. I had to take hardcore antibiotics immediately.

I named my phlebitis Fred. I don't know why exactly, pretty certain the opiates convinced me this was the proper thing to do.

I have a somewhat icky picture under here.Collapse )