Over the years I've come to the belief that we all need a human pit bull in our lives.
I took care of my mother's elder cousin from the age of 86 to 94 when she passed away. During that time her Alzheimer's got progressively worse. At one point she couldn't tell me or the doctor where she hurt when she broke her hip. The doctor said she hurt her knee and sent her home. I believed him. After a week she was still in pain, so I took her to the ER where they diagnosed her with the broken hip. It still makes me nauseated to think she was moving around for a week with a broken hip.
I complained so loudly about the original doctor that his son (also a doctor) had his father retire.
At the hospital Cousin Mary was prepped for hip replacement surgery. I was there before the surgery and was shocked to see the doctors had prepared to replace the wrong hip! I became the doctors' worst nightmare.
But not in time. The husband of her hospital roommate suggested that I demand to see Mary's bedsore. The attending nurse balked saying they had just put a very expensive wound pad on her.
"Not my problem. Let me see her bedsore!"
When they did show me, I almost vomited. The sore was big enough to drive a truck through.
I spoke to the hospital director, who happened to be a friend of mine, and demanded he do something. He made the lame suggestion to transfer her to a wound hospital, which I did.
It was there that she passed away.
I wanted to make the previous hospital pay for their mistakes but with her being 94, with no future financial working value, I was told a lawsuit would be futile. So much for the value of a human life!
When I had an emergency hysterectomy, my surgeon put me on a Morphine drip, post surgery. My mother visited me while I was recovering in my room. I could feel my mother hovering over me. My hospital roommate, who was a nurse who had had a bladder operation, also watched me like a hawk. Why? Because I was swirling down the drain. I felt as if I breathed, I wouldn't catch another breath. The roommate called a nurse. "She's OD'ing on her Morphine!"
That's all I remember.
Fortunately my mom and my hospital roommate, saved me. They were my Pit Bulls.
I became my mother's ferocious Pit Bull and my own.
What's a girl to do?…I've instructed my daughter and my family to be my Pit Bull. It's needed nowadays when health care is so freaking unhealthy. Who are your Pit Bulls?
Lucy Llewellyn Byard is currently a columnist for the Record-Bee. To contact her, email lucywgtd@gmail.com
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