I'm
currently typing this article under the influence of some heavy pain killers. I
was released yesterday from the hospital, where I had been admitted for the
past three days. I'm on bed rest right now and have a surgery scheduled next
week.
Now, let me rewind a few days.
Earlier this week, I developed 10/10 (severe) abdominal pain
accompanied by nausea, vomiting, chills, and diaphoresis. To make a long,
and miserable story short, I was admitted to a nearby hospital, diagnosed with
a ruptured ovarian cyst, placed on morphine for pain control and scheduled for
an exploratory laparoscopic surgery.
This was the first time that I had ever been hospitalized, and it
happened to be at a hospital at which I worked. As a doctor and an employee, I
know that I received more attention and perhaps even better care than the
average patient. In spite of this, my experience was far from pleasant, and I
had many realizations during my three-day hospitalization. Literally, it was a
life-altering experience. I don't have the space here to even scratch the
surface of what I discovered from being a patient, but let me try and hit the
most important points:
1) Actually talking to a doctor is a rare and brief occurrence.
This observation hit me on a profound level. I literally spent about 23 hours
and 55 minutes of the day waiting and wanting to speak with my doctor. This was
absolutely mind boggling and frankly, annoying. The short period of time that I
was allowed to see my doctor was not nearly enough. Most of my questions went
unanswered because I forgot them by the time my doctor arrived or my mind was
too foggy from the pain meds to succinctly convey my questions.
2) People don't believe your pain. This realization actually
brought me to tears. I remember ringing my nurse call button at 3:00 in the
morning. I was shaking because my pain was so intense. I kindly asked my nurse
for my PRN (as needed) morphine injection. I could tell by her reaction that
she literally did not believe that I was in so much pain. I felt so betrayed. I
felt as though she was accusing me of being a drug seeker. And when I showed
her my sweat soaked sheets, she brushed it off by saying "it must be your
anxiety." I was literally so shaken up by this experience that I started
sobbing after she left my room.
3) Being a patient makes you feel absolutely helpless, vulnerable,
and at the mercy of everyone around you. When you are connected to your bed by
IV lines and monitoring devices and are in so much pain that you can't get out
of bed, you actually become the equivalent of a prisoner. Things which you
normally take for granted such as using the bathroom, getting a glass of water,
finding a tissue to wipe your nose or making a phone call suddenly become
monumental tasks. It's an absolutely horrific feeling to become so reliant on
others for assistance with everything. As an incredibly active and independent
person, I think this may have been the most difficult aspect for me.
I can honestly say that I learned more about what it means to be a
patient and how frightening of a place a hospital is in my three days of
hospitalization than in my 6 years of medical school and residency. The sense
of powerlessness, loss of control, and feelings of being misunderstood are
concepts, which I don't think anyone can ever fully comprehend without being on
the other side of the hospital bed. I have grown as a physician and as a human
being having had this experience. I know that I will never treat a patient the
same again for the rest of my medical career. I truly hope that I will remember
this experience for the rest of my life, and every time that I care for my
patients (people) for the duration of my journey in medicine. I am humbled.
Special
courtesy to Kendra Campbell, MD, Psychiatry/Mental Health (The Ink Blot)
**Hope you will get well soon…
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