Embracing My Anger through Advocacy! Part II

We three (and two Paramedics) left the Emergency (Hell) Room at Anna Jaques Hospital in Newburyport, Massachusetts with little answers and lots of fear. The paramedics seemed a bit standoffish to me, but given their job and my hindsight, I imagine it's not very easy to detach yourself from someone in an emergency each and every day over and over. The driver was stone faced and she meant business! I could tell she was not in the least bit comfortable that not only one but two additional passengers were riding along with her patient. The other guy, he was more socially awkward than anything and in the end he was quite nice. They seemed an unlikely team. 

Mom was strapped into the gurney and tucked into the bus (as they call an ambulance, not sure why - it's clearly more like a van than a bus) like a sardine. This did not help her nerves and made it so she was positioned in a way that I could not even make eye contact to reassure her. We arrived at the Ambulance Entrance after a rather bumpy ride (Thank You Taxachusetts!) and she was rolled into triage. It was not at all what I expected. In my mind I imagined that since she already spent the day in another ER and she was being transferred that it would be smooth. That the doctor had called and shared all the details of why she was being transferred and that they would be ready for her. 

The ambulance triage area was filled with gurneys of other people who had been transferred or "rushed" to the ER at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center in Boston. This was not the place I imagined landing when arriving at a state of the art medical facility in Boston, Massachusetts.There was no introduction to the triage nurse, no explanation of what would happen next or what was expected of me while there. There was just nothing but awkward standing and waiting, trying to reassure mom that Boston was the best place for her. 

We stood with mom while she waited in the Gurney Line (yes I am serious, it was a line of Gurneys) to have her final vitals recorded by the Paramedics and be signed over to the Triage Nurses. We received no instructions so we stood and we stood...it was really quite odd given that we seemed very much out of place but we were not leaving her for anything so we stood. The driver, I wish I remembered her name now, actually opened up now that her patient was safely delivered and come to find out she is a student where I work. Maybe we'll cross paths again someday and I can thank her. 

The paramedics were instructed to park mom in the only remaining spot, right in front of the automatic doors in the dead of winter, where she would wait for a room in the ER. There were many Gurneys parked in this small open area, car accident victims, gun shot victims, drunks, cancer patients and the list goes on. 

After standing with her for a few hours and taking her to the ladies room once (because at least the nurse here was clear that she could actually get there with the wheelchair safely and for her comfort, him being male and all, allowed me into the back of the ER to assist her). 

My father arrived from a roofing job site nearby. We saw him before he saw us and my sister left to get to him and help him get to us. That did not go so well. We had no idea about protocol or what the other side of triage even looked liked since we had no explanations upon arrival. He got to a not so helpful woman in the waiting room who basically told him he was not going to get back to see mom. Anyone who knows my dad knows that he does not deal well with conflict. He nearly lost it, so he left and my sister followed him out and he was sitting in his truck, outside the ER, which would not fit in the Parking Garage. Can this get any worse...oh yes it can.

Thankfully, Bryndon(my sister Lisa's other half) drove Dad to the hospital and a police officer said he could 'live' park in the fire lane outside the ER. For one, that's where Dad sat for quite a while and for two, it was going to be a very long night. 

My sister tried to return to my mother and I and she was then intercepted by security and told that only one person could be back with my mother (I was already back there) and therefor how the hell could she tell me what happend with dad and that there was now this rule no one had mentioned to us if they would not let her do so. 

Well, my sister does not like to be told no. So she marched outside and around the building to the Ambulance Entrance, which just so happened to be inches from where my mother still lay on the gurney at what must have been an hour and a half to two hours at this point. She began to break the news to us(with security on her heals), which was very distressing to my mother and myself (mom wanted to see Dad and I needed to be there as her advocate because Dad just doesn't have that in him). After calming down the security guard and convincing him I can be trusted to follow protocol now that it has been shared with me I formulate my plan. So, my sister stays with Mom and I go looking for Dad in his truck. 

It took a lot of convincing to get him to walk back through those doors and go see mom. In the end he decided to do it after a period of time. Slowly the rest of my family arrived and waited in the waiting area. Before long we were told that no longer could anyone stay with mom, there were just too many patients on gurneys in triage. The waiting room was agony, not just because my mother was alone and scared and sick but also because it was filled with 20-30 people waiting to be seen in the ER for the Flu! Something none of us could afford to get because we couldn't risk passing it to mom. 

The hours ticked on and late in the evening my mother was moved from the triage area to the ER Rooms. Except there were no rooms available for her so she was assigned a square in a hallway and again was allowed to have one person with her at a time. By now I have established a rapport with the nasty women at the ER desk and I can come and go somewhat freely because she finally believes I will follow her rules. 

My husband arrives just after dark and he brings food. My sister and I are starved, we've not eaten since breakfast. He is a godsend. It becomes evident that although the doctors have begun to visit mom there is little to no hope that she will be fully evaluated and admitted before the day ends. So I begin the process of shuffling everyone in and out to see and say goodnight to mom and send them all home. 

My father, my husband and I remain. Dad and I take turns sitting with mom and keeping my husband company in the waiting area which is slowly emptying. The hours tick on and on. Eventually the decision is made to admit mom, but that surgery would not be recommended. This is a relief and disconcerting at the same time. Why did that ER doctor at AJH tell my mother she needed major reconstructive surgery and cause her so much distress? Incompetence?  Fear? I will never know. The only explanation I get is that local doctors are not always familiar with what cancer does to bones and protocol for treating it, they just see deterioration that needs to be fixed. 

I can't help but think, shouldn't all doctors, especially ER doctors be up on this stuff? At least generally? Should he have been able to sit down for five minutes and explain to mom what he saw, what that means in a normal person but that cancer patients are treated entirely different and that he is sending her to Boston where she will get to see the best in the cancer field and receive the best treatment. I wonder at times, if this is America and we have the best care in the world, how awful it must be everywhere else when a doctor here can't take 5 minutes to explain something to a patient in the least scary way possible. 

It was nearly 3 am before mom would begin the process of being transported to a room and admitted to the hospital...

To be continued.