justathomas
Where to start?
Jun 18, 2008
The last three weeks have been really hard on everyone. I honestly feel like the hospital stay was the hardest part of all. I don't think I've ever been in a hospital where people knew less or cared less about their patients. I had to tell the nurse that her j.p. drain was filling every twenty minutes. I had to ask the nurse three times to get her temperature taken because we knew she had a fever. When they took it?
102.5.
The people in the emergency room had NO idea what a bariatric patient was, let alone how to care for them. I considered this a grave situation to say the least, because the surgeons office has a plaque touting them as a Bariatric Center of Excellence. You don't get angry at someone because they can't drink orange juice. You don't hand a Phase 1 patient a 12 oz. glass of gatorade and tell them to drink it all in thirty minutes.
I think the overall awareness of gastric bypass patients and their special needs is almost non-existent. I wouldn't be surprised to know how many bariatric patients have been injured because no one took the time to investigate who they're treating. With the increasing number of bariatric procedures in the world, I'm honestly flabbergasted.
She's feeling better, and that's a relief. I don't know where we go from here, other than to continue on the path we're on now and hope that we don't ever have to take her back to that hospital again. I love her, but the hell they put her through makes me feel anger like I've never felt before. If I didn't respect myself, my girlfriend, and have a dream for my future I would have beaten that nurse to a bloody, ragged mess for treating her that way.
She's been more mobile, and we've been getting out and doing things more often. We've been to the movies, we've been shopping, and we're slowly but surely returning to as close to normal as we can be. I guess I'll throw some more out here later on when I'm not so infuriated by remembering what that hospital did to the woman I love.
102.5.
The people in the emergency room had NO idea what a bariatric patient was, let alone how to care for them. I considered this a grave situation to say the least, because the surgeons office has a plaque touting them as a Bariatric Center of Excellence. You don't get angry at someone because they can't drink orange juice. You don't hand a Phase 1 patient a 12 oz. glass of gatorade and tell them to drink it all in thirty minutes.
I think the overall awareness of gastric bypass patients and their special needs is almost non-existent. I wouldn't be surprised to know how many bariatric patients have been injured because no one took the time to investigate who they're treating. With the increasing number of bariatric procedures in the world, I'm honestly flabbergasted.
She's feeling better, and that's a relief. I don't know where we go from here, other than to continue on the path we're on now and hope that we don't ever have to take her back to that hospital again. I love her, but the hell they put her through makes me feel anger like I've never felt before. If I didn't respect myself, my girlfriend, and have a dream for my future I would have beaten that nurse to a bloody, ragged mess for treating her that way.
She's been more mobile, and we've been getting out and doing things more often. We've been to the movies, we've been shopping, and we're slowly but surely returning to as close to normal as we can be. I guess I'll throw some more out here later on when I'm not so infuriated by remembering what that hospital did to the woman I love.
