Posts by Patrick Reyes15

Karen Young17 said:Well... I certainly respect that you have your own perspective as someone working in the medical field—I really do. But let’s be honest—I’m fairly certain you wouldn't even be part of this conversation if it weren't for the tablet.
The reality is that these prescriptions are often handed out just for the sake of checking a box. Take a urologist, for instance—they aren't exactly going to sit there and cross-reference every single medication you're already taking to see how they might interact. It’s a massive oversight. I’d bet anything that among the endless sea of options on the market, there are plenty of alternatives that achieve the exact same result without causing all that nausea and discomfort. But, let’s be honest—we probably won't live long enough to see a doctor actually take the time to look at the big picture.

I get that healthcare workers are frustrated—and honestly, calling their working conditions "tough" is a massive understatement—but at the end of the day, they chose this career path, and we’re all dealing with the fallout of those choices now. It isn't like anyone else is getting a free pass through life. I can't help but wonder if these same professionals feel a sense of vindication when they encounter a rude clerk at the DMV or some unhelpful agent at a bank? Probably not. It’s a cycle, really—that lady behind the counter is likely just as burnt out and miserable as anyone else, venting her frustrations in all the wrong ways onto the wrong people.

I’ve been sitting here reading Patrick Reyes15’s post... honestly, what you and your parents went through sounds absolutely harrowing. It’s one thing to deal with medical issues, but it’s another entirely to face doctors who lack basic competence—people who simply don't care and are more terrified of an audit or oversight than they are of failing their patients. Then you have the rest of the staff, who seem to take their own frustrations out on the very people who need support the most. It’s the exact opposite of what healthcare is supposed to be.

I’ve seen my fair share of incompetence, too—cases where people are just fundamentally out of their depth. I once heard about an ophthalmologist who told a patient during a routine exam that they had cataracts and immediately referred them for surgery. The poor guy shows up at the hospital only for the surgeon to look him in the eye and say they can't believe he was even sent there—the man didn't have cataracts at all. As it turns out, that doctor only ended up in that role by default—a sort of "safety net" career move because he failed to get into his actual preferred specialty during med school. It was painfully obvious that he had zero passion for the work, which explains why he doesn't bother putting in any real effort.

To be honest, I really ought to schedule an eye exam with him—but I just can't bring myself to go. Before I commit to anything, I need to do some digging and see what my other options are. I’m looking for someone else entirely because, frankly, this guy is completely out of his depth. It’s one of those situations where people would rather pay premium prices for a private consultation with the doctor who inherited the practice just because they know his name, even if there are better specialists out there. $167 Regarding that checkup with him... honestly, I have my doubts about his actual expertise.

Well, I suppose it really comes down to the individual. I had surgery at Mayo Clinic recently, and honestly, everyone was incredibly kind—from the nurse who handled my prep work (with a smile and a little lighthearted teasing) to the technician who practically caught me when I nearly threw up right after my CT scan. Neither experience was exactly a walk in the park, obviously, but no one was rude or dismissive. I could also tell when things were getting a bit frantic for them. For instance, once my digestive system finally kicked back into gear, I was running to the restroom every few minutes while still hooked up to my IV. Every time I rang the call button, the nurse would be there in seconds to disconnect me so I could go. I actually found myself apologizing for being such a nuisance, but she just told me not to bother—if I need to go, I need to go, and helping me is literally what she’s there for.

I ended up stuck in the ICU for five or six days because of a fever—it was pretty rough. Honestly, though, the nurses were a lifesaver. They went out of their way to wash my hair—which they definitely weren't required to do—and even spent time braiding it just so I wouldn't be dealing with a tangled mess. We shared a few laughs and some lighthearted banter, too. It sounds small, but those little gestures made an incredibly difficult stay much easier to handle.

The surgeon—well, he’s in a league of his kind. He took me under his wing from day one, checking in on me several times a day leading up to the surgery. He even showed up on Labor Day just to see how I was doing—even though he wasn't technically on call and there were plenty of other doctors on duty since my procedure had actually happened the day before. During all the follow-up appointments, he’s been nothing short of wonderful... honestly, he's the gold standard of what a doctor should be. 🙂

I am genuinely glad to see some positive hospital stories in here. These kinds of experiences should be the norm, but unfortunately, they seem to be rare exceptions. You clearly caught a break, and I'm happy for you because I wouldn't wish the treatment I've witnessed in hospitals over the last few months on anyone.

I actually have a lovely story of my own that happened following my first post, but first, naturally, I have to recount a complete catastrophe.
My mom was admitted to the ward, and in the middle of the night, she was dying from the pain, yet there was nothing listed on her chart that could actually help her. Of course, the nurses aren't allowed to administer anything outside of the prescribed list, so Mom kept begging them to call the doctor. But here's the thing... the doctor wasn't around, and they wouldn't call him. So you're just left sitting there. Luckily, Mom managed to get a hold of us over the phone to explain the situation, pleading for us to do something, because by that point, she couldn't even catch her breath from the agony. After that call, we phoned the unit to check on her, and the nurse actually gave us false information, telling us Mom was doing great and everything was fine. Well, we lost it. We rushed to the hospital and ended up in a massive confrontation with one of the lead doctors, who was incredibly dismissive toward both us and my mother, throwing out disgusting comments like, "If she doesn't like it, she can just go home," or when we asked for an injection, he snapped, "What, do you want a musical performance too?" Honestly, we didn't hold back either; we were giving it right back to him, and things got heated in the hallway. It was a terrifying, miserable scene.
Naturally, the next step would have been a lawsuit and all the legal fallout that comes with it. However, her surgeon stepped in and sorted the whole mess out; that other doctor actually came forward to apologize to both her and us, and from that moment on, everything improved. Her surgeon is truly a special, kind man who fights for his patients and refuses to tolerate injustice or the arrogance of other doctors. It just goes to show there are decent, caring people out there—they're just hard to find.
Because of the wonderful way he treated her, Mom practically came back to life; she found this new surge of energy, and now she's back home, happy and content. We've left all those terrible experiences behind us and are focusing on this new lease on life.
It just goes to show—that genuine human connection and actually giving a damn about the patient can lead to a much faster recovery and, honestly, just a way happier person overall. All it really takes is a little bit of basic human decency.

Kate Collins67 said:Look, the system is broken—I think you figured that out by now—but this "merciful" doctor isn't the one building the system, nor does she have any real power to change it. Most of the time, she’s just another exhausted worker being squeezed dry by the bureaucracy, yet you're taking all your frustration with the entire infrastructure out on her. It happens all the time: your mom gets seen by someone who hasn't slept in 30 hours, and the only reason they’re even looking at her is out of pure, individual willpower. If they were acting according to "standard procedure," they’d just say, "My shift ended five or six hours ago, and I don't care who the system scheduled for today; I'm done." They'd walk away, leaving those 20 people hanging, simply because the system dumped them there without checking if anyone was actually available to help.

We can't just act like there isn't a human element behind the "system." The system isn't some imaginary, untouchable ghost in the machine—it's made up of those very doctors. And surely, as a highly skilled specialist and a respected physician, she actually has some influence over how things run. Maybe not total control, but if every doctor actually stepped up and took some responsibility, things might actually move forward. Even those empty-headed politicians would need to wake up once in a while. We can't just keep chanting "it's the system's fault, it's the system's fault" without actually doing anything to change it.
It’s just like that classic line: "the institutions should just do their jobs." Nobody knows anything, and everyone is always pointing the finger at someone else.

That person might be on their feet for 30 hours if they're picking up extra private shifts—which, honestly, they really shouldn't be doing.

Kate Collins67 said:The real reason Mom isn't allowed to just wander out? It comes down to the legal fallout for the staff. If something were to happen to her while she’s wandering off the unit, and the family decides to file a massive lawsuit, the hospital is on the hook. And look, as you already pointed out, you find all kinds of people in these places—including those who pull this kind of absolute nonsense—so blame them, not the nurses. The staff is just covering their own backs. (I mean, obviously, Mom can always sign those papers saying she refuses treatment and wants to be discharged—not permanently, mind you—but the hospital isn't a prison cell.)

Mom said she'd sign a waiver stating she's leaving against medical advice, so she wouldn't even have the right to sue.

Kate Collins67 said:A year older... and apparently no wiser.

@Patrick Reyes15

I see your last post basically killed this entire thread—honestly, I have no idea why.
Everything you just laid out is just my daily reality, except I’m looking at it from the staff side of things.

Your shock at how the system works actually confuses me. Your dad passed away from colon cancer, your mom has heart disease, and by any standard statistical measure, you’re someone who should be looking at health risks after 40—yet you still cling to this incredibly naive, idealistic worldview.

Look, I can give you some straight answers to the questions that seem to be eating at you:
1. Most doctors in hospital wards during their shifts are just there to "get through it." They aren't necessarily uncaring, but let's be real—they're indifferent. They don't want to come check on patients just to be grilled about trivialities that won't change the medical outcome anyway. Besides, the doctor on call isn't there to be your personal counselor or a walking encyclopedia of your specific case; they are there for emergency interventions. For everything else, there's the medication chart and the floor nurse.

2. A hospital isn't a Hilton, and you don't have the right to wander in and out whenever you feel like it. So, all those insults you hurled at the nurse because she wouldn't let you onto the ward after visiting hours? That's completely uncalled for. Seriously, if you had said that to a security guard, they would have tossed you right out of the building.

3. If you aren't happy with how a patient is being managed, you have every right to file an official complaint with the department head or even the hospital director—that's how civilized people handle things. And just to clarify one thing: the constant "tuck me in," "fix my blanket," "move this" stuff can get really irritating for some patients, but frankly, that isn't my job, so I'm just noting it.

4. As for terminal patients—in your father's situation, being at home is better than being in a hospital, regardless of whatever reason you want to use to justify it. The most humane thing a doctor can do for a dying patient (someone with an incurable illness) is to send them home. There is nothing more human than that. Dying in a hospital, far away from anyone you actually know, is just as terrifying as it is at home—the only difference is that in a hospital, it's happening out of your sight.

Based on how you worded that response, I can tell you’re clearly an industry insider—mostly because you managed to conveniently sidestep the most critical issue of all: the actual duty of a physician toward their patient and the systemic failures within our healthcare system. It was quite a masterful omission, really. Honestly, if you ever decide to jump into politics, I fully expect you to have a very successful career.
Maybe your statistics aren't exactly hitting the mark—I’m thirty years old, after all, so perhaps my worldview is just too naive or idealistic—even though I firmly believe I'm being a realist here. Look, I have certain expectations from doctors and the medical staff we all fund through our taxes; I expect basic human decency and professionalism. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. But apparently, doctors have fought their way into this divine, untouchable status where they think they're above everyone else—as if the rest of us are just uneducated peasants who should bow down the moment they walk into the room. And honestly? We can't entirely blame them. It's the patients' fault too. People don't actually stand up for their rights; they just nod along, say, "Yes, doctor," and accept whatever subpar treatment they're given. If refusing to just roll over and accept that nonsense makes me a naive idealist, then fine—call me whatever you want.
Look, being a doctor or working in healthcare is incredibly demanding—exhausting, even—and I know you understand that better than anyone. But clearly, you’ve missed the point that this job requires heart; you have to be a human being first and foremost. Both doctors and nurses take an oath, yet it seems like half the people out there treat it like a suggestion rather than a commitment. Please, just get it through your heads: you aren't auto mechanics tinkering away in a garage. If you can't perform this job with the necessary care and decency, then just quit and find something else to do. Don't drag yourself through it, and for heaven's sake, don't torture your patients in the process. Nobody forced this career path on you—you knew exactly what you were getting into when you signed those papers.

And now, I suppose, I really ought to weigh in on your responses as well.
1. What you wrote there is just pathological. I’ll say it again—people aren't made of steel, and in my opinion, a doctor who remains completely indifferent toward a patient isn't functioning normally. And then you have the nerve to claim they don't even want to see them because they'll end up being lectured with nonsense?!?!? Unbelievable. I mean, surely a patient has the right to ask what's wrong, what the prognosis is, and so on. I agree that a doctor doesn't need to weep over every single patient—and yes, certain things simply have to be suppressed just so they don't lose their minds themselves—but as for treating patients with such an arrogant attitude? You aren't going to convince me of that.

2. Look, I agree that a hospital isn't a hotel and people shouldn't just show up whenever they feel like it, but as I mentioned before, I was at the hospital during visiting hours, and a nurse actually told me to go out to a pharmacy to buy some gel because they didn't have it in stock. It is frankly sick that they don't carry basic pain relief gel, and then to have some high-and-mighty, agitated nurse start picking on me while I'm already worked up... it's too much. In all that madness, I managed to pull myself together for a second and explain the situation to her, only for her to keep up the fight. And what was I supposed to do? Go home? Leave my dad in pain just because visiting hours ended five minutes ago? Give me a break... And if, God forbid, a security guard had kicked me out, I'm certain that nurse wouldn't have had a good time—she knows she had no right to be that condescending, especially since the other nurses knew I was already in the building. She knew it too, which is why she shut up.

If I'm unhappy with how someone is treating a patient, my first move will always be to approach that individual directly to smooth things over—I'd rather give them a chance to fix it before I start filing paperwork or taking it through official channels. Because, well, I consider myself a civilized person and I don't want to cause a scene immediately. But I won't let anyone take their frustrations out on me, let alone on sick parents.

And this idea that "it might become annoying" to deal with people—I honestly don't know how to respond to that. It's their damn job. I'll say it again: if they find it annoying, they can quit. I won't tolerate people dumping their moods onto patients, especially not the decent, easy-going ones. If mom had to get up, and if she had to use slippers that she couldn't reach because she wasn't allowed to bend over—and the nurse had shoved them under the bed—what was she supposed to do other than call a nurse to hand them to her? Instead, this arrogant creature comes along and takes it out on her just because she dared to call for help. It's a disaster.

4. That's a difficult one to comment on. Some people want to die in the hospital because they want that sense of false security provided by the doctors and nurses nearby. Others, however, just want to get away from the hospital as quickly as possible. Toward the end, Dad wanted to be home, but we were naturally worried about mom's heart and how she would handle everything. But somehow, her love for him and her desire to help him through those final, hardest moments kept her going, so neither of them left.

Here’s the rest of the story since the last post cut me off mid-sentence. 🙂

About eight years ago, my mom was diagnosed with some heart issues—and of course, because medical opinions vary, we were met with a mountain of conflicting advice right out of the gate, which didn't exactly inspire confidence. Basically, an old doctor—a family friend who wasn't practicing anymore—read her EKG and told us she’d actually had a myocardial infarction and just walked right through it. Naturally, the hospital staff didn't see it that way initially. Once they finally confirmed it, the confusion only grew; one specialist would insist she needed valve surgery, while another argued medication was enough. It leaves you feeling incredibly vulnerable as a patient when you're supposed to be in capable hands, yet the experts in front of you are essentially bickering over your life.
Ultimately, she ended up on a regimen of pills without the surgery, which—in a cruel twist of fate—only made things worse regarding Dad’s situation, eventually leading doctors to say a transplant was her only hope. They actually caught the urgency during a private ultrasound at a clinic—she’d been sent there by her hospital doctor because apparently, the hospital staff was too "overbooked" or "tied up"... I can't recall the exact excuse. When she urgently scheduled an appointment with her primary physician, he agreed a transplant was necessary and explained there was a massive gauntlet of testing required just to get her on the waiting list.
The transplant team includes a very prominent, highly recognized surgeon who will be overseeing her case. Shortly after, my mom was admitted to the hospital for those tests, and both of my parents ended up hospitalized simultaneously—each in a different part of town. In moments like those, all you crave is a little compassion or a kind word from the medical staff. But humanity was in short supply. My mom would ask to be released for an hour or two around 2:00 AM when there were no tests scheduled, just so she could visit Dad, who was literally counting down his final days. Some doctors viewed this as nothing more than extreme rudeness or being "spoiled," and they flatly refused to sign the paperwork to let her out. A few others were more reasonable, so she did manage to slip out briefly here and there. After spending two weeks in that hospital, dealing with a mix of total idiots and genuinely wonderful people who actually care about their work, they finally cleared her for the transplant list.
Later on, she had to go in for monthly follow-ups, which usually involved sitting in a waiting room for three or four hours just to have this high-profile surgeon ask if everything was "okay" or if there was anything new. Honestly, the way this system handles critically ill patients is nonsensical. They schedule these appointments, and then the doctor doesn't even show up because she's on call or somewhere else entirely. And when you finally do get a moment with this "distinguished" professional, she treats you with zero empathy or genuine interest in the patient’s well-being. To top it off, she didn't even bother explaining the actual transplant process—what to expect, what recovery looks like, or how long the wait might be. During one check-up, Mom tried to give the doctor the contact numbers for all of us, just in case her heart failed and she couldn't hear her phone, so we could rush her to the hospital. The doctor wouldn't even listen or take a single note. Seriously, lady, if the police ever had to track you down, you'd be in trouble. She said that to a critically ill cardiac patient! I think if Mom saw a police officer at our door, she’d think something catastrophic had happened to us.
I accompanied her once and we actually joked about how empty the place was—maybe everyone was away on a ski trip or something. Regardless, we still sat there waiting for an hour. So much for "efficiency" and organization.
On the bright side, Mom did receive a heart. We experienced quite a few beautiful moments during that phase. From the very first contact with the nurse who called us, to the intake process and the staff preparing her for surgery, the atmosphere was incredibly positive and relaxed, which really helped build trust in both the procedure and the recovery. We stayed with her right up until the surgery, which meant a lot to us. The operation went well, and by the next morning, she was moved to the ICU. The people in the ICU were unbelievably kind and sweet. From the doctors to the young nursing staff, they were exactly how I imagine medical professionals should be: compassionate, human, and highly skilled. It felt secure and encouraging.
Once she moved from the ICU to the general ward, however, the vibe changed completely. You still find some decent people, but you also run into the most inexplicable individuals. There are people there who snap at patients, don't even offer a greeting when they walk in, act incredibly arrogant, and are just plain rude—they won't show up even twenty minutes after being called, and when they finally do, they're condescending. For instance, Mom asked for her slippers because they were under the bed, and the response she got was, "What do you want? Should I put them on your bed instead?" Then she asked for the blanket to be moved because she was hot, and the nurse just snapped at her and left it draped over her legs. When she asked for something for the pain—not a pill, as the doctor had specifically instructed—the nurse barked at her that she couldn't do it that way. When Mom asked to call the doctor, the nurse claimed he wasn't available; when Mom asked to call him on the phone to verify the medication, the nurse insisted there wasn't even a doctor on shift. Now, I have to wonder: is she blatantly lying, or does a ward housing a heart transplant patient truly have no doctor on call at night? I honestly don't know which thought is more terrifying.

I apologize in advance for the length of this post, but... well, I’ve just been through far too much in such a short window of time.
I feel compelled to comment—if I can call it that—on the professional competence, the basic humanity, and the general conduct of the doctors and medical staff within our supposedly "fine" American healthcare system.
Lately, I have unfortunately found myself in constant contact with hospitals and physicians, which has given me a rather unvarnished view of how things truly operate. My father recently passed away from colon cancer, and now my mother is currently hospitalized following a heart transplant, so I am writing this from the depths of direct experience.
I could cover my father’s illness in just a few brief sketches. To start, they botched his initial rectoscopy—a procedure where they could have diagnosed the carcinoma much earlier. Essentially, the doctor failed to utilize the full length of the instrument, meaning he never even reached the area where the cancer had formed. He concluded everything was perfectly fine and dismissed the bleeding as nothing more than hemorrhoids. Even the subsequent fecal occult blood tests came back clear. When his condition inevitably deteriorated, we went to a private specialist for an ultrasound, where the doctor identified what looked like polyps. However, a friend of his who happens to be a surgeon looked at the results and saw a textbook case of colorectal cancer, not a polyp. A follow-up colonoscopy confirmed the grim reality: a massive tumor. Naturally, we had to seek out a private facility and pay out of pocket for the colonoscopy because, in this country, you’re often left waiting until you're practically on your deathbed before anyone moves.
The next step was surgery. We arrive at the hospital, navigate a hundred different windows and registration desks, and finally get admitted to the surgical ward. My father was already so exhausted that he could barely walk, let alone navigate the stairs he was forced to climb. And then, the nurses tell us to wait in the hallway. A hallway that, quite predictably, has no chairs. I lost my temper, of course, and asked for a seat, only to be met by a nurse who gave me this incredibly dull, vacant stare and asked, essentially, "Why can't you just stand, sir?" After a brief outburst on my part, they ushered him into a room that looked more like a storage closet than a medical suite. To say it was cramped would be an understatement. It was a long, narrow cell with four beds crammed in there like a military barracks—one row of beds directly facing another with a tiny sliver of a walkway in between. There were no privacy screens, no lockers, no bedside tables, no private bathroom—just a single, broken chair. I must emphasize: this is the room where people recovering from major surgery or awaiting operations are kept. The restroom is located out in the hallway and is shared by numerous rooms. Again, I stress, these are post-op patients or people about to undergo surgery—people who are physically depleted and are forced to struggle toward a public hallway toilet. And my father, on top of all this, was having significant trouble walking.
As for the nursing staff, they ranged from exceptionally kind individuals who were genuinely willing to help with a smile, to absolute harpies who made you feel like you were in a prison torture chamber rather than a hospital.
Here is one anecdote. My father was in immense pain and needed to be massaged with a topical analgesic gel. I requested a nurse to assist, but she informed me they didn't carry that specific gel and suggested I go buy some at the nearby CVS and bring it back myself. In that moment, I did run to the pharmacy—purely to ease my father's agony—but it struck me: I am in a hospital, my father is in agony, and they don't even stock the basic medications required to alleviate his suffering. I returned quickly with the gel, only to be intercepted in the hallway by some irate nurse with a facial expression like she was ready to snap, demanding, "Young man, where do you think you're going? Did you check in with me?" Honestly... who do you think you are, and why on earth should I be checking in with *you*? Being well-bred, I maintained my composure and explained that I had already checked in and that the staff knew I was there. She then started on some nonsense about how I couldn't just wander off and that visiting hours were nearly over. Naturally, after that, she received a rather colorful series of profanities and rebukes from me, which seemed to silence her. After that, the other nurse wasn't in the room anyway, so we ended up applying the gel ourselves.
There were also instances where they refused to administer pain medication when he requested it, despite the doctors explicitly telling him that he shouldn't endure any unnecessary pain and to ask for help.
Yet, there were also wonderful nurses who were so attentive and caring toward complete strangers that it actually brought tears to my eyes.
Regarding the facility itself, I should also mention the constant shortage of Ensure nutritional shakes he was supposed to drink. We eventually started buying them ourselves because we simply couldn't rely on the hospital to provide the basic sustenance he needed.
We were nearing the end, and since it was clear there wasn't any more help to be had there, we decided to bring him home—it was his final wish. We asked if they could handle the paperwork and arrange an ambulance to get him back to us. They said sure, but we had to hurry because the doctor was only in until 1 PM, and after that, everything goes to hell because of the long weekend—apparently, since Monday was a holiday, there wouldn't be a doctor available, meaning he couldn't be discharged for at least another three days. A "long weekend"??? This is a hospital, for God's sake!! That's just how things operate in this country.
The ambulance showed up in the afternoon, and as they were loading him up, they suddenly realized they already had one patient lying there and had mistakenly assumed he could sit up—even though Dad hadn't been able to move for some time. So, they just tossed him around, treating him like a rag in total agony, and shoved him back into his room... then they repeated that whole miserable process when they came back for him the second time.
When they finally delivered him home, they just dumped him onto the bed in the same sheets they’d been carrying him in and told Mom she was on her own to get him settled.
So, that’s the extent of those vultures.
During those final days, the only reason we managed at all was thanks to a visiting nurse who basically did everything for Dad—the washing, shaving, managing the bags, catheters, changing him... we just handled the bare minimum while staying by his side constantly. You rarely encounter such a wonderful soul, especially someone working for peanuts under a manager who is a complete witch—though, of course, she carries herself like she’s some kind of saint.