Turbo Cancer: Day 162 - November 20, 2022
Selfish, Lazy and Cruel
On this day, last year, I wrote:
Good evening,
My mom has finished her first night and her first day at the hospital.
When the surgeon removed the large lymphocele in my mom’s groin, an empty space was left behind. The space became an abscess. It was filled with infected fluid and puss. The doctors suspect that cancerous cells remain in the surrounding tissue, leaving this area of my mom’s body without the ability to heal. We have been told that we will need to learn to manage the area, rather than expect it to heal.
My mom is on I.V. antibiotics. She will be in the hospital for a few days for observation. When she does go home, she will be set up with home health and physical therapy.
My mom was at The University of Chicago satellite hospital in Harvey, Illinois. During the first night of this hospital stay, they tortured her. They deliberately tortured her. It was done with intention. No other explanation makes sense.
Perhaps this was done out of laziness. Perhaps it was selfishness. Most definitely, it was cruelty.
I had taken my mom to the emergency room because she had an infection. We arrived at noon. My mom went directly into the exam room. The doctor said, immediately, that she would have to stay overnight.
Then, we waited for a bed to be ready. We sat in the exam room of the emergency department until 5:00 pm.
My mom was hungry and tired. When she was finally assigned a room number, it was a great relief. We were told that my mom’s dinner, which had been on its way to the ER, would be delivered to the hospital room, instead.
Almost immediately, a young transport worker arrived and rolled my mom, in a bed, to her new lodging. Hospital transporters always moved very quickly. I was, as usual, running behind, dragging all of our bags and belongings.
We arrived at my mom’s room, and we got her into the bed. The transporter went to the nurses’ desk, to announce a safe delivery of my mom. I unpacked our bags and set up my mom’s things. I made sure that everything she needed would be within her reach.
By the time all of that was done, my mom had to use the washroom. She was in bad shape. She needed a lot of help to get from her bed to the bathroom, onto the toilet, and then back to bed. Helping her required slow, gentle movements.
Once my mom was back in bed, I realized that we had not yet seen any hospital staff. It was 5:45 pm, and nobody had been to the room. I pushed the call button and waited for a few minutes.
There was no response.
I went into the hallway. I spoke to the first person that I saw. As luck would have it, this person was the nurse who should have been taking care of my mom. I asked her when she would be coming into the room. I told her that my mom was getting hungry, and that she needed her pain medication. I explained my mom’s condition and the importance of her opioid schedule.
She told me that she had been unaware of my mom’s arrival. She said that she would check the computer and then be in to see us soon.
I went back to the room and told my mom that the nurse was coming. We waited.
We waited and waited and waited.
Nobody came.
I went back into the hallway and, once again, found our nurse. I told her that my mom was hungry and that she needed her pain medication. I explained my mom’s condition and the importance of her opioid schedule. She said that dinner was on its way, and that she would be in soon.
Dinner arrived.
However, there were no utensils.
I went into the hallway and found the nurse, again. I told her that my mom had gotten the dinner tray, but that she needed a fork. She said that she would get one and bring it soon.
I went back to the room and sat with my mom. It was 6:30 pm.
We waited and waited and waited.
I went back into the hallway. At first, I didn’t see any of the staff. I wandered around until I found everyone, huddled in a circle, behind the nurses’ station. They were having their daily shift change meeting.
By this time, I was very upset.
I spotted the nurse to whom I had spoken. I walked directly into the center of the group. I faced her. Loudly enough for everyone to hear, I said, to her, that my mom, who had stage IV pancreatic cancer with bone metastasis, had been in the room for over an hour. I said that she needed her nurse, her pain medication and her fucking fork.
This girl looked me straight in the eye. She folded her arms, tilted her head, and lied. She said: “She has not been here for an hour. She arrived at 6:15.”
This was the first time in my life that I wanted to physically hurt another human being. I narrowed my eyes, and with quiet intensity, responded: “You are lying. You are a liar. Why are you lying? We left the emergency room at 5:00. I spoke to you at 5:45. I told you that we were here.”
She said: “Yes, you left the emergency room at 5:00. You didn’t arrive here until 6:15”
I was flabbergasted. I stared at her with my mouth open. Where did she think we could have gone between 5:00 and 6:15?
Another nurse, who was sitting in front of a computer, called out: “She’s right. It says it right here. JoAnne Yapp was checked in at 6:15 pm.”
I looked around. I was surrounded by nurses, medical assistants and aides. They all knew that what I was saying was true. They knew that my mom had been left to suffer, unattended, in an empty room. They knew that she had been neglected. They knew that she had been ignored and denied proper care.
They knew. Every single one of them was willing to be a part of the lie.
I was angry. I was appalled. I was disgusted. I was shocked. I was seeing red. I was under a lot of stress and, in that moment, I understood why people become violent. I wanted to hurt that girl. I hated her so much.
I hated them all.
But, what could I do? They had the power. They controlled the food, the medicine and the quality of the care. Their patients were at their mercy.
I could see what the nurse had done. She had purposely neglected to put my mom into the computer system. She didn’t feel like dealing with us at the end of her day. If my mom had been checked in at 5:12 pm, when we arrived, this nurse would have had to have done her job. She would have had to have provided care.
By waiting until 6:15, she was able to make my mom into the night shift’s problem.
I had told the nurse about my mom’s condition, about her suffering and about her needs. She hadn’t cared. She couldn’t be bothered. She had no compassion.
In order to have compassion, one must have a soul.
After the shift change meeting, the night nurse came into our room.
I tried to remain calm, but I was upset. I was angry and shaking as I explained about my mom’s condition and about the importance of her opioid schedule.
I told her that I had given my mom her Oxy at 6:00 pm. She said that I shouldn’t have done that. She said that only hospital staff can give medication in the hospital.
I said that we hadn’t been provided with any hospital staff.
She looked at the computer. She said that no medication had been ordered for my mom. She said that, as soon as the doctor put the order, my mom would start getting her pills.
I asked her to contact the doctor.
She said that she sent him a message.
I stayed until I was told that I had to leave.
The nurse said that she had spoken to the doctor, and that the medication would be administered soon.
When I left, my mom looked frightened. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to leave her there.
However, I thought that it was the best place for her to be. I thought that they could take care of her better than I could.
I told my mom that the hospital had everything that she needed. I told her that life would seem better in the morning.
I drove home, and I went to bed.
When I returned the next day, my mom looked wide-eyed and crazed. She looked terrified.
She told me, desperately, that, all night long, she had been pushing the button and asking for her pills, but that the doctor had never put in the order.
Beside the I.V. antibiotic, which had been started in the emergency room, my mom had not been given any of her medication, at all, all night long.
My mom had relied on prescription opioids to control her unimaginable pain. As a result, she had been made addicted to prescription opioids.
The system had forced her to become opioid dependent, and then, when she was in critical condition, they had withheld the drugs.
They are the same as the pushers in the street.
They’re worse.
As far as I know, the hospital staff had no reason to hate my mom. They didn’t know her, and they could neither love nor hate whom they did not know. I don’t think there was anything special about my mom, that would make them want to hurt her. I assume that this is just the way the hospital is. I assume that it is common practice to make people sick, get them addicted, and then, withhold their medication and therapy. I assume that that is part of the business model.
I assume that they torture people every day, all day, all of the time.
They are lazy, selfish and cruel.
To support my work, visit my ko-fi site. Funds from donations and art purchases will be applied toward the publication of “On This Day, Last Year.”
I am sitting here in the ER advocating for a woman who fractured her ribs in a fall and I am having allllll the emotions.
During covid a lot of the medical staff that cared and were intelligent quit as they had to be given the shots, give toxic shots to innocent people, give kidney killing Remdesivir or other toxic drugs. Only the rotten, stupid people were left. Often they were traveling nurses.