I will continue with my hospital adventure.

On the second day at the hospital, I felt much better, able to sit up in a chair. However, the nurse came in and took more blood. 

Then they put in another IV for HEPERIN, a blood thinner. So I had two IVs in one arm plus oxygen going all the time. However, more people from the lab arrived and struggled to find veins for additional needles. My poor hands were like pincushions. 

I began talking about going home. When my oxygen levels were normal again and my breathing was much better, I wanted to get out of that place. I knew my care at home would be good, and if I didn't need those IVs or oxygen, I knew I would be better at home. 

Besides losing an IV that had been poorly taped on, and bleeding like I had been stabbed in the heart, my Sunday went as well as could be expected. My food was listed as a Cardiac diet, full of carbs, and no one gave me my diabetes meds. 

"We only give Metformin and Insulin," I was told. Well, I don't use either, so for three days, I don't know what my blood sugar was doing because no one checked it, and I took no meds. 

They gave me my nighttime drugs in the morning. By Sunday night, I was asking for my Ativan, which I only take when my anxiety is very high. I made an agreement with the doctors that I would stay over one night, but I was going home on Monday. The holdup seemed to be with the cardiologist, who wanted me to have an Echocardiogram and a stress test before dismissing me.

I knew I could have those tests done as an outpatient by my own doctor, so there was no reason to stay in the hospital. I called my primary care doctor and made an appointment, and contacted my cardiologist, who said she would see me when I was dismissed. Finally, in the early afternoon on Monday, the hospital cardiologist made her first visit to my room and said she was in favor of dismissing me. 

I have good insurance, and I know that the hospital and all four doctors will receive a good-sized payment. If they had added two more days and two more tests, it would have hit my insurance in a big way. But, I learned from my doctors I saw after being dismissed that the major concern the hospital doctors had was their fear of a malpractice claim. 

Our country is known for lawsuits, large and small, for deaths and injuries, and I assume all doctors are fearful of litigation, especially hospitals. Two members of my family died from medical mistakes, and the doctors were sued, but only one family won their case. My father died from too much sedation in the hospital, but we didn't file a suit. My brother died because the hospital to which he was transferred when he had a fluid buildup did nothing for him for 24 hours. His heart gave out while he waited. We did not file a lawsuit.

I have a healthy fear of hospitals. Those in charge don't know me, what I need or what I can't have. Although my meds are written down over and over and should be on file, no one seems to glance at them. Without an excellent advocate by your side who will speak up when you can't, it is a wonder anyone gets good care. I felt I had to educate every nurse who came into my room about me, why I was there, what I was allergic to, what I needed, and what I could not have. I wanted an Alka-Seltzer, which I sometimes take at night, but no. We can get you something else for heartburn if that is your problem. 

I was finally dismissed late Monday afternoon, and my sister had come home, so she drove me back to my apartment. My stress level dropped rapidly, but I continue to fight the symptoms of COVID, with a cough and fatigue. Those symptoms seem to linger for a while. 

Hospitals are wonderful for emergency care or some surgeries, but even the doctors I talked with at the hospital said our medical system is broken. I had two surgeries in the past three years, a knee replacement and surgery for a broken shoulder. Both were outpatient. I had excellent care at home. The only problem was that the anesthesia made me deathly ill for two weeks after the shoulder surgery. I think they gave me something I am allergic to. You never know.

Estelle Rice, my longtime friend

One of my dearest friends died last weekend. She and I collaborated on a book, Paws, Claws, Hooves, Feathers, and Fins. I will miss her so much, even though she lived in North Carolina and I am now in Georgia, we stayed in touch. I am glad she was able to be at home in her bed when she passed away. 

The good news is I am going strong again now, and I hope to teach another writing class in June or July.

I am blessed with a caring and understanding family and wonderful friends, both online and in person. 

My sister, Gay, my friend, Mary Mike, and I at Estelle's 100th birthday party

Have a good Memorial Day weekend if you celebrate it. I will remember those I know who died in wars our country fought, all young men who never had the chance to grow old.