Torn-The Good and Bad of our Healthcare System

This is kind of an unscheduled post. I was having a great conversation with a good "interweebs" friend of mine last night and again this morning about my blog. She said my posts are starting to remind her of her experiences with healthcare. Her bad experiences. And she lives in the United States.

While she wasn't in anyway criticizing what I was saying but it struck a giant chord with me. It's been bothering me the last week or so as I've written many of these posts and in doing so have re-read my journal and iPhone notes about my hospital experiences. It does sound more negative than positive. And I hate being that person, although I do believe I've been objective in communicating what my experiences were. I have not gone out of my way to be negative (I've just been honest) and have tried to highlight the great people and treatment I've had along the way.

It's tough and I've grappled with these feelings from the day I was admitted to the hospital as a kidney donor. I love our Healthcare system. I am thankful for it, grateful and appreciate we are very lucky as a country to be able to sustain such a system. Sure, in places like the US where healthcare isn't "free" there might be pockets of extraordinary healthcare but that is often at the expense of other pockets of their communities that are almost criminally under served. I want to be clear-I believe in our system and how it works. There are always ways to grow and improve any organization and I don't think we should shy away from that.

I did however receive some pretty craptastic care and attitude at the hands of medical professionals who are a part of that system. I don't want to point fingers but it was more often than not the nurses and the administration. I don't know if that was a result of something in our healthcare system that does not allow them to excel in their professions or if its just a case of me having bad luck and getting a few bad apples. I'm also not sure if my somewhat "foreign" presence on the trauma ward was part of the cause of the sometimes bad care I received. If that is the case, that is an easier fix with the development of a stronger, more efficient living donor process which I know the Living Donor program is deeply committed to.

I guess I just didn't want this blog to become a bitchfest about our healthcare system as a whole or make it become about the crappy treatment I received from time to time after donating Leftie. I especially don't want to deter other donors from donating thinking they will have the same treatment. I know in my case, the Living Donor program is very interested in all the ups AND downs I experienced (and asked me to be sure to blog about them) so that they can take steps to fix them for the next guy or gal who wants to donate. And I really do believe that they will do everything in their power to make those changes. They are really great people and their hearts are in this 100%. And to me that counts for a lot.

So please don't use this as a tool to blast our healthcare system and say that its broken o it doesn't work and we need something else. And certainly don't be deterred by some of my bumps in the road if you want to donate in Canada. It still is worth it and you will get the care you need.

That being said if you are from Alberta Health Services and/or Foothills Hospital-you aren't fully off the hook. I want you to do well-I am rooting for you. Take my experiences and see what you can do to make it better for the next person in my place or for the next patient in general. Remind your people why they do what they do. Remember we all end up as patients one day.

Thanks.

One, Two, Three, Pee

After the glorious moment that the catheter came out, my favourite nurse told me the downside was that for the next 12 hours, they had to measure my pee-doctor's orders. The put a "pee catcher" in the toilet (the same kind I had when I did the 24 hour urine test). Every time I pee'd I was supposed to buzz the nurses station and tell them to "come measure my pee". Really? Apparently so. She told me they knew they had to do it so they shouldn't give me a hard time.

Off she went. In the two-three hours left in that shift, she came in a few time on her own to check without me having to call (remember she wasn't even my nurse).  Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad. Then shift change happened. New nurse-one I don't think I had had before. She introduced herself, writing her name on the Alberta Health white board. I told her I had, in fact, just pee'd and invited her to measure it. She did and wrote it on the white board. She told me if I didn't feel comfortable saying "come measure my pee" to the nurses station, just to tell them I needed to see my nurse. Great! That sounded easy.

Now remember I'm still drinking a ton of water and juice as per the doctors orders. I would say on average, I was using the "facilities" every hour (plus I was nervous about it so I think I was going more). After the first time I have to go after our initial introduction happens, I call the nurses station:

"I pee'd-can you come measure it?"

Annoyed silence from whomever was on the other end followed by "Okay we'll send your nurse". I went back to reading my magazines. An hour went by. I had to go again. Hmmmmm. Still no nurse. So I buzzed the station. "Can I see my nurse?"  Sure I could. Another 30 minutes went by. This was a bit ridiculous.  I went in the washroom and review my initial deposit. Based on the number written on the whiteboard I knew which of the measurements she was taking. I recorded the number on the board, dumped out Round One and moved on to Round Two.  I was a little worried I'd get in trouble so I left it in there, thinking she'd show up soon. I waited awhile and decided to buzz the nurses station one last time even though it stressed me out. "We'll let someone know". It's not like they said she was busy or even seemed to think this might be a repeat request. Just that they'd send someone.

Now I know from my numerous laps around the floor past the nurses station that tin addition to a least one floater for the ward, each nurse is assigned to three rooms which would give them three to six patients (but in most cases more like three). There had been no code clues and no code 66s (I learned the night before the kidney donation surgery that meant the nurses think the patient is going downhill but not at a code blue yet). So I am not sure what was going on. All I know is that our first meeting at shift change was our last till after 10pm (right before shift change again). She came in and saw the list (including her original one) of my seven pee amounts. "Oh good.  Someone came in and counted-I need to record that on your chart". I tilted my head to the side and gave her a look. I saw the wheels turn in her head. She said "Oh.......did...you record them?"

Yes, yes I did. DIY healthcare.

At least she said thank you. I was one of those moments I wished very hard that they could be in the patient's shoes for a second and see how things are. Awkward. It wasn't a hard thing for me to do but should I really have been doing it?

Turning the Corner

My Day Three post breakfast nap was definitely a turning point in my post kidney donation hospital recovery. I would give credit to the red Jello except I didn't eat it.

I woke up to find myself surrounded by almost the entire Doctorpalooza  crew, smiling away at me. It was the first time in my stay at Foothills where I had been "caught" sleeping and hadn't woken up to people entering the room. Dr. Y seemed to be in charge that day vs. Dr S or Dr. W. I kind of wonder how they determined who was alpha doctor each visit-rock, paper, scissors? Dr Y did the usual check of my incisions, asked the gas and poop questions. He asked how my pain was and I told him my arm hurt way more than anything related to the surgery. They all kind of leaned in, glancing at it and there were a few cringes.They told me I should be off the morphine now-and I was. I did ask them why the nurses kept offering it to me if I didn't need it-they just grinned and didn't really answer. Dr Y then got a very serious look on his face, paused and then asked me why I hadn't eaten my jello. "Really?" I asked, "Do you want it?". They all started to chuckle and he waved his hands, backing away from the tray. "Exactly" I said. More laughs. 

Then he gave me the best news ever. I was allowed to shower, the IV could probably come out (they had put a needle in my hand after the other arm failed but hadn't hooked me up to anything) and the catheter could most certainly come out. Yahoo! On top of that, they were buying my "If you want me to poop give me more than consomme and jello" argument. While I was still going to get that for lunch, I was going to get to have dinner! I mean it was still going to be hospital food but I had learned to appreciate that some levels of food were better than others.

Doctorpalooza left. I was already feeling a million times better just knowing I'd soon be free of all the machines and gadgets. A nurse came in later and I asked her when the catheter was going to come out. She looked at me blankly. Seven or eight doctors and not one had communicated this to her or put it in the system. Awesome! She did have good news though that someone was going to come in and help me with the shower and also change my sheets. 

Moments later that person did arrive. Now, I have never felt fatter, more bloated, greasier, dirtier-I think you get the point-as I did at that moment. I'm also normally a fairly modest person-even if you are a nurseor a doctor, I'd still feel weird being naked or partially naked around you. But as this lady helped me out of was most certainly a stinky gown, and helped me turn on the shower, passed me the shampoo etc from my makeup bag-I didn't care. I was going to get to wash my hair! I was washing my face! I didn't care what she saw or how awful I looked. I was clean. Another huge uptick in the recovery status. If I could have done a happy dance I would have.

Feeling fresh and new I did several laps of the floor that day, each one bringing me less discomfort and higher spirits. The catheter didn't end up coming out till mid afternoon. The awesome "floater" nurse took the time to call the doctor after 2PM when an order still hadn't been put in the system. She said he razzed her a bit because he is a "surgeon" and they don't normally deal with those things but she pointed out to him he was the one to tell me it was coming out and his name was on my arm. Good woman! She came in my room waving the tools to help her take it out. I think she was as happy as I was. She also took the time to shut my door to make sure no one barged in on us-that was a nice touch. When she was done I yelled "I'm free". I think we just about high-fived.

One thing I was really reminded of in this process is how awesome the little milestones in a journey can be and how the simplest things like a shower, a few laughs and some nice people can make such a difference in how you feel.