Patrick Reyes15 said: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.
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.)