Isolation
When I walked into Mom's room early yesterday morning, I was suprised to see that her roommate had been moved. I walked to Mom's side of the room where she was busy digging ice from a cup to soothe her aching throat.
"What happened to your roommate?"
Mom's voice is still barely a whisper and I thought she said, "ICU."
I told her I didn't think her roommate looked very good the day before and wondered why they hadn't brought someone immediately in to share the room since the hospital was packed (hence the 5 hour wait in emergency for a bed the day before)
"No," she said pointing to her chest. "I-so-lation."
I furrowed my brow. "I'll be right back."
Seems this time, they're taking Mom's infection more seriously.
MRSA is a mutant staph infection that's a product of our society's overuse of antibiotics. As with the last time Mom was here (it was only 2 weeks ago, but seems like an eternity now) it can only be treated with one I.V. antibiotic. Normally not life-threatening, it is for the very young and the very old - especially those with chronic lung problems.
When I asked the nurse about "i-so-lation," she led me back to the room and pointed to a sign on the door I missed before.
"Anyone going in must wear a gown and mask," she said, handing me the i-so-lation gear. "And next time your mother comes in, we have to know because she'll always be a carrier. That's about all I know about it," she said, walking off.
I wore the Hazmat uniform until the doctor arrived and he wasn't.
He informed us Mom's x-rays were better. The pneumonia was clearning, but her labs looked terrible. Her white blood count was way low, signaling her body was trying hard to fight an infection. The swelling in her legs, which now looked much better, was caused by the poison in her blood cutting off the circulation - at least that's what I think he rattled. The swelling in her throat, the same cause.
And i-so-lation? He didn't know why she wasn't treated in i-so-lation during her stay before or why in the world they placed her in the nursing home room with another elderly woman, who was at risk for developing MRSA.
"We'll have to start all over with treatment," he said, while he wrote on his chart. "And this time, we'll get her started on physical therapy right away."
He pulled back the covers to reveal her shriveled, sore-ridden legs.
"I think I'll also have a wound care specialist come and look at this."
A woman, who looked more like a business person than a medical one, gasped a little at the sight.
I wondered if this was the hospital administrator with whom I'd argued about over Mom's release to the nursing home. I guessed it was and I wanted to say, "See? See what your stupid rules have cost my mom, me and this hospital?"
But I didn't.
Later, Mom, fed up with the whole thing, whispered as she dug another piece of ice from the cup,
"Stay. Here. Until I get well. If not, lawyer up."
"What happened to your roommate?"
Mom's voice is still barely a whisper and I thought she said, "ICU."
I told her I didn't think her roommate looked very good the day before and wondered why they hadn't brought someone immediately in to share the room since the hospital was packed (hence the 5 hour wait in emergency for a bed the day before)
"No," she said pointing to her chest. "I-so-lation."
I furrowed my brow. "I'll be right back."
Seems this time, they're taking Mom's infection more seriously.
MRSA is a mutant staph infection that's a product of our society's overuse of antibiotics. As with the last time Mom was here (it was only 2 weeks ago, but seems like an eternity now) it can only be treated with one I.V. antibiotic. Normally not life-threatening, it is for the very young and the very old - especially those with chronic lung problems.
When I asked the nurse about "i-so-lation," she led me back to the room and pointed to a sign on the door I missed before.
"Anyone going in must wear a gown and mask," she said, handing me the i-so-lation gear. "And next time your mother comes in, we have to know because she'll always be a carrier. That's about all I know about it," she said, walking off.
I wore the Hazmat uniform until the doctor arrived and he wasn't.
He informed us Mom's x-rays were better. The pneumonia was clearning, but her labs looked terrible. Her white blood count was way low, signaling her body was trying hard to fight an infection. The swelling in her legs, which now looked much better, was caused by the poison in her blood cutting off the circulation - at least that's what I think he rattled. The swelling in her throat, the same cause.
And i-so-lation? He didn't know why she wasn't treated in i-so-lation during her stay before or why in the world they placed her in the nursing home room with another elderly woman, who was at risk for developing MRSA.
"We'll have to start all over with treatment," he said, while he wrote on his chart. "And this time, we'll get her started on physical therapy right away."
He pulled back the covers to reveal her shriveled, sore-ridden legs.
"I think I'll also have a wound care specialist come and look at this."
A woman, who looked more like a business person than a medical one, gasped a little at the sight.
I wondered if this was the hospital administrator with whom I'd argued about over Mom's release to the nursing home. I guessed it was and I wanted to say, "See? See what your stupid rules have cost my mom, me and this hospital?"
But I didn't.
Later, Mom, fed up with the whole thing, whispered as she dug another piece of ice from the cup,
"Stay. Here. Until I get well. If not, lawyer up."
posted by Kerri Fivecoat-Campbell at 8:37 AM
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