Editorial
Front Page - Friday, February 25, 2011
Are we there yet?
The land of confusion
Jay Edwards
I stood outside in the hallway of a geriatric wing in the old hospital building at UAMS, trying, pretty unsuccessfully, to look inconspicuous. The reason for my loitering amongst the healing and not-so-healed was my mom, who was trying to be counted among one of the former, which, I’m pleased to add, she seems to have accomplished.
To get to her room I had probably taken the long way there, the road less traveled, through wide, long hallways and around some of the 10,000 or so people of the midtown campus who call UAMS a job.
Mom began her most recent medicinal journey on the cardiovascular floor in the building I’ll call “Outpatient.” I knew my way there because it’s where I go myself about once a year, for a minor, yet bothersome skin condition. (OK, it’s a wart, and it has all the brilliant folks in dermatology stumped. They’ve cut, frozen, lasered and even sold me some cream that only is found in a rare plant in Mongolia. Seriously, it was like $2 million dollars for this stuff. However, thanks to our great health care I only paid $25. But even the cream didn’t work so I’m going back to UAMS next month to try leeches and incense. Until then, let me finish telling about Mom).
After spending a few hours in a small examining room, Mom’s cardiologist, who she loves, decided to try and get her moved to the hospital for a day or so for tests. He had already decided to change her blood pressure medicine to the dosage she was getting back in January (Which was when all her new problems began. This was what would ultimately be determined as the reason for this most recent malady. Score one for the docs, and since this is a feel good success story we won’t get into why they decided to change the dosage to begin with).
Apparently moving her over to the hospital and under the care of the entirely different fields of geriatrics and neurology would take some doing. I heard her doctor say she would be admitted for evaluation and not as a patient. If she tried to make an appointment as a patient it would take, he said, six months. I didn’t really doubt it because I had called for a dermatology appointment the second week in January and they told me to be there on March 3 (takes time to gather those leeches).
So we waited. Mom was hungry and asked for a BLT with ranch dressing and pickles from Sonic. “What, are you pregnant?” I asked.
I left on my mission. It was nice to have one.
After Mom got moved, the evaluations began. They kept her that night in a nice private room in the old hospital, which is connected to the new hospital; it’s very nice. And the food’s pretty good too, although Mom missed her salt.
I got there early the next morning, hoping to speak with a doctor about her tests. When I arrived at her room a nurse had just come in with her breakfast. Mom was sitting up and in good spirits, which she usually is. The nurse got the tray in front of her and said, “Now here’s your breakfast and it’s gonna be soooo good.”
“I’ll bet,” Mom said. (I come by my cynicism honestly)
The nurse moved in for the unveiling. I was curious but not very hopeful. There wasn’t even a smell. And there was a reason for that, which we saw when she lifted off the silver plate cover. There was nothing there. I don’t mean small portions, of powdered eggs and shriveled up sausage. I mean nothing, as in right out of the dishwasher.
“Well mother, Congress is cutting back on health care and it begins right here.”
We laughed, even the embarrassed nurse, who was on her way to find some food.
Later that afternoon, I was standing in the hall waiting on two doctors who were doing Mom’s motor skill and memory evaluation. When they were finished they came out of her room and over to me.
“Well your mother seems to be doing pretty well. We still have a couple of tests this afternoon but overall this looks pretty good. She is still having some confusion however.”
“What kind of confusion?”
“Well I don’t think it’s that serious,” the doctor told me.
“What is it,” I asked again, a little nervous now.
“Well, your mother seems firmly convinced that the staff brought her an empty plate this morning for breakfast.”
I laughed and the doctors gave me a ‘must run in the family look.’
I straightened them out
and wondered how things might have progressed had I not been around. Guess we’ll never know.
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