. . . whisper down the lane

Well, maybe I spoke too quickly . . .

After work yesterday, Diana and I had decided we'd drive to the hospital and visit Mom. We called just to make sure she hadn't been moved, and after some trouble, the hospital informed us that she was still there, just not answering her phone.

We arrived to find her sound asleep in front of the TV, so Diana suggested that we talk to a nurse to find out what we could. I guess we looked like we needed help, since one of the nurses on the floor came up to us right away and asked if we needed help.

I may not be the only one writing blogs about the state of the health care system.

I am sorry I didn't get her name, as this nurse was very nice and very helpful, probably more helpful than she should have been from the hospital's viewpoint. She described the difficulty that patients AND nurses have trying to keep track of doctors. From what I could gather, hospitals now employ doctors full time on staff, called Hospitalists. These doctor have no practice other than the hospital's patients, and they, or members of their "group" perform the rounds and speak to patients. Needless to say, the individual patient may see five or six different doctors from one group during their stay, and may never see the same doctor twice. Additionally, if as in my mother's case, the patient may see a number of specialists. As may also be the case, one specialist may decide that the patient's malady may be outside their specialty and refer them to another specialist. This, of course means that you could see a doctor once and never again. Add to this the number of staff that enter a patient's room for any number of reasons (meds, blood samples, vital statistics, etc.) and you have a situation where the patient, even if alert and clear headed, becomes easily confused.

Much of this could be avoided if the various doctors involved would explain clearly what was going on. Perhaps they can't . . . maybe it is too complicated for even them to keep track of all the patients, all the results. all the stories. In any case, confusion reigns in today's hospital beds.

After first explaining that she really couldn't give us information without my mother's permission, the nurse told us a number of things that were both informative and distressing. My mother is in some level of renal failure, and apparently she was unaware of this until the nurse herself told her that just a few hours earlier. Mom has a number of things wrong with her, but this is potentially life threatening. But the nurse was not able to tell us (because she did not know) what that meant in terms of long term care. She did not know whether it was permanent, how long she'd have to stay in the hospital, when or if they would perform dialysis.

At one point she shook her head, acknowledging how hard it is for patients to keep track. She was openly annoyed that the doctors had not explained this condition to my mother. She felt like people of my mother's generation never learned that they needed question their doctors. or what kinds of questions to ask, but obviously felt that the doctors should understand that.

She took a lot of time with us, wrote down a few numbers and explained to us how to navigate the system to try and find out information.

So here, on day seven of my mother's hospital stay, I still do not know the full story. As Diana mans the phones and begin the process of tracking down the doctor with the most recent version, I am reminded of the child's game refered in the title and wonder . . . will we ever get a clear picture of what is going on? Will the story translate from one set of lips to another, until such time as the last person to hear it blurts out something that bears so little resemblance to the original as to actually be in contradiction to it?

Maybe you've heard the comment that an elephant looks like an animal made by committee? Our healthcare system is the elephant in the hospital room we all need to talk about.

I thought everyone knew that bureaucracy was inefficient . . .