A Crisis of Care

The a/c recognizes a crisis and responds by stubbornly refusing to cool all except two rooms of the house. Sadly, one room is the bathroom and the other is the former guest room, now dedicated to unfinished projects, stuff I haven't found room for or am planning to give away, and litter boxes. I click on the window unit in the kitchen/den and it comes to life with enthusiasm. The second window unit in the bedroom/sunroom - where I spend the majority of my time - reluctantly kicks in but after the first 5 minutes, it crashes and takes everything but the computer with it. I have to dig out my pocket flashlight and hack my way to the circuit breakers, cursing with every step and trying to convince myself it could be worse. I don't allow myself to think of exactly how it could be worse. Lately, it's been my experience that reality sees such thoughts as a challenge.

I make arrangements for the a/c repair people to come on Monday, pick up around the house, tend the animals and head for the hospital. Blue is less well than she was that morning, the fluid is building around her lung again and breathing is a ragged struggle. She's in pain and restless with anxiety. Not wanting to make a scene, no one has asked why someone hasn't drained her lung and the weekend nurses are far too busy with making their Saturday night plans to tend to her. After she's waited over an hour with no response from a nurse, after I've watched her double over and weep with pain and anxiety, I walk to the nurses station myself. It's deserted.

Quite literally abandoned, not a living soul anywhere in sight. The angels of mercy have taken flight. I check my watch and am just about to head back to the room when the elevator pings and a young woman in scrubs exits, talking animatedly on her cell phone and laughing loudly. She stops at the sight of me, rearranges her multiple carry bags and her smile vanishes.

“Hold on,” she mutters into her cell phone and glares at me, “Help ya?” Her voice is slimy with resentment.

When I explain that she has a patient in need, who has been in need for some time, she waves a free hand around the empty nurses station.

“Cain't ya see I'se not signed in and there ain't nobody heah?” she snaps, “maybe sumpin goin' on.”

“Maybe so,” I concede, “But that's not my problem and it's sure as hell not the patient's fault. How about you get your (fat, slovenly, low rent ass) self signed in and do your job?”

She slams her carry alls and makeup bags and oversized totes on the counter but keeps her cell phone jammed to her ear. “What room?” she snarls at me.

“Pick one!” I spit back, “But you can start in 3!”

By the time, 10 or 15 minutes later, she finally saunters into the room, plants one multi ringed, long nailed hand on her hip, looks at Blue and says “So what's goin' on?”, I've already hunted down the regular night nurse and he's brought the much needed medications. I've also found out that the people who could've drained the fluid from her lungs and maybe avoided the worst of it for her, left without bothering to check on her.

“It's Saturday, you see,” he tells me helplessly, “They're long gone.”

“I found Todd,” I tell the fat bitch coldly, “He's taking care of her. But you can close the door on your way out, please.”

She makes a half hearted offer to notify the doctor which neither of us acknowledge and waddles out. Her bracelets and necklaces and dangle earrings jingle like a coin jar.

“Please keep her out of here,” Blue asks Todd when he comes back with additional drugs, “I don't know what her problem is but I've got enough of my own.”

He gives her a concerned look and nods.

And such is the state of health care in this country. There was a time when the best care available in this state came from this particular hospital. Nowadays, you're lucky if they notice you're there.