What’s the Secret Word ?
And now for the ER…East Georgia Regional, or should I say: “Are you a good nurse or a bad nurse?” PART I: some of the names were changed to protect the innocent.
Let me begin by stating that people either earn my respect or go away empty handed.
This blog is inspired by a recent ER experience. Everyone dreads the ER.
My husband landed in the ER while I was out of town. He is okay now. The story, however, is worth telling.
After spending hours on the phone, that is to say every ½ hour to 45 minutes making calls to the ER to find out what his results were, and if he was to be admitted or not, I was still somewhat puzzled.
Luckily, I’d been given let’s call him “Waldo” (or maybe it was Walt) to discuss his case. As soon as I’d call and Waldo knew something he offered me the specifics related to the various tests given. For example, blood work came back first and he gave me results without me even asking for them. God bless him.
Waldo then became busy with another patient. I was directed to let’s call her “Plight” who was supposedly hubby’s nurse of the moment. Waldo was just kind enough to take calls between patients. Bravo!
Plight, (as close as I can come to the name Blythe), is another story.
As soon as I got on the phone with her, I knew I had the better one in Waldo. Nonetheless, I was still trying to gather information on my husband’s case—-which I was encouraged to do via secretary and Waldo (the previous nurse).
I began explaining to Plight that I was told she was my husband’s nurse and I wanted to know if, finally, the CATSCAN results were in.
Rather than give reassurance like the other two, this one argued with me. And, if you’ve been following my blog long enough, you’ll know that arguing with me is not the way to impress me. My husband likes to say that I am a very nice person, but you don’t want to give me a reason to get into a tit for tat with me. I always win.
Plight quipped that she did not have the results, but even if she did, she could not tell me anything over the phone. I told her that no one I’d spoken to all day had dared to say that I could not be informed as to my husband’s progress. She went on to defend herself by saying it was the law.
Nothing ever impresses me less.
So I said if I knew the T-cell count already…she said that would be breaking the law. OOPS!
So, you’ve guessed the good nurse vs. bad nurse.
Luckily a shift change was about to take place and she would no longer be around. I told her on her way out the door that this was no way to speak to people under stress whose loved one was in the ER and that, furthermore, she was a very unimpressive individual.
She tried to back peddle her way out by saying that once my husband was admitted he could tell me himself. Well, I said with the drugs they were about to give him, it’s hard to say what he’ll be able to tell me. Not to mention that a patient should not be bothered while resting and trying to recuperate. She was now changing her story, complete with ifs ands or buts. That’s a sign of bad communication skills.
Then she insisted if I were present, she/they could tell me. Wouldn’t you think the ER was crowded enough (no wonder).
I told her she needed to improve her communication skills and that all options should be available to ease the patient’s and family’s concerns. I refrained from using multiple expletives. Although I was certainly tempted to do so, I remained a lady. And, I added that whether she knew it or not, some people travel in their work. We can’t always be in the same room, let alone the same time zone or even the same country with our spouses or other loved ones.
The secretary upon hearing I was out of town said appropriately: “Bless your heart.”
I told her in all honesty what I thought of the two nurses and that I was glad Plight, a fitting nickname for Blythe, would no longer be “caring for” my husband. She made no arguments but simply chuckled knowingly.
People should be fired for the kind of insolence such nurses or doctors display. Either fire them or give them serious sensitivity training.
I ended by telling Nurse Plight that I was going to stay calm for my sake and for my husband’s sake but that she needed a good scolding. She needed to make note of it as a scolding for future reference so that she would forever remember it that way.
BTW, I got results from the next nurse with no struggle at all. She mentioned that the staff told her I’d been calling all day and to give me whatever I wanted.
Are you a good nurse or a bad nurse? PART II:
Once he was admitted and evaluations were on-going, I had several more conversations with my husband and the new nurse. She made no mention of not being allowed to share info with me, so I thought the matter was resolved. Mary was charming and deserves high praise.
After her shift ended, the nightmare continued. My husband made a call to me wanting to know if anyone had informed me about new developments. No one had. He explained he’d been given pain meds and things were moving in the right direction but no indication was given as to his release from hospital. We were not out of the woods yet.
I wanted him to get the rest he needed and I could tell it was hard for him to speak, so I told him I’d be calling the nurse’s station for more info. I was immediately greeted with the hard-line response that I needed a “code” to get info from “them.” Stacy, the new nurse, stated that it was the ‘law.’
I informed her that everyone else had been giving me info after he was admitted. I did not even know what she meant by a “code.”
She said patients get a code as they are admitted, if they so choose, and then they tell the loved one the code so that the loved one can, in turn, tell the hospital staff.
If medicine wasn’t such serious business, I’d say this was something like a comedy of errors or a running gag along the lines of: “Who’s on first; What’s on second; I don’t know’s on third.”
I said I had not been given such a code by my husband possibly because he was given drugs and he simply forgot. Or, perhaps, the admissions process was faulty and they neglected to complete the forms correctly. If a code is so all fired important to some of the lesser staff then they need to get their ducks in a row. Speaking of ducks, doesn’t it remind you of the old Groucho Marx game show involving the secret word?
She argued that the patient had to provide the code. I stated the obvious (obvious to all of us but not to some of them) that the patient would not know a code was required unless they asked for one.
Who walks into the hospital carrying along with them a secret code, let alone who comes through the ER by ambulance, as my husband did, with a code in mind.
As she was not coming up with a solution (to a problem of her own making, which was not a problem in my mind), I told her to go to my husband and ask him to give her a code for me that I could give back to her. She was not happy to do it—-but she did it anyway at my insistence. I owe her reluctance more to a lazy attitude rather than a response to my sarcasm, which such people are usually not smart enough to understand.
Naturally, she came back to the phone saying that he did not have a code but to give me anything I wanted. I believe her exact words were: “Your husband told me it was okay to talk to you.” I chuckled and said: “Of course, he did.” (BTW, even in his weakened state, my hubby worked in a little sarcasm of his own.)
Given all of this, my evaluation of East Georgia Regional is mixed. Half of the nursing staff I encountered turned out to be useless. Thank goodness our situation turned out okay. Hard to imagine what it’s like to deal with such staff when that is not the case.
My heart goes out to them.
The moral of the story is:
For those in service to others, who know their duty is to serve, we give due credit.
For those in service to others, who do not know their duty is to serve, we put them in their place.
Suck folks exist in all strata of society and such situations play out in terms of customer service.
In part, I like to think I play a role in helping them to do a better job whenever warranted.
After all, every girl should have a hobby.
