Monday, September 5, 2022

Who Cares?

 A few days ago, there was an announcement that three local hospitals, Samaritan, St. Peter's, and Albany Memorial,  were on "full diversion."  All ambulances were directed to go to Albany Med.  The hospitals on diversion had to  "revaluate staffing shortages."  Full diversion usually means that a hospital has more incoming patients than beds, as happened at the height of the COVID epidemic, but it seems now the reason for the diversion is a shortage of health care workers. Aside from the fact that  this is an ideal opportunity for those workers to negotiate for their unions (remenber the  Nurses' strike during the COVID  crush), it could also be an earmark of the Life Is Good movement where people can be paid to work at home (or not), and no one is motivated to engage in distasteful activities.  

    There was a time when individuals were responsible for their own caretaking, and that of their alleged loved ones. But times changed and with the popularity of institutions designed for others to be paid to do the "dirty jobs," the burden was gladly shifted onto the shoulders of paid employees. But this is a free country, and what happens if no one, or only a few, want to assume the burden of depressing and moribund work. 

 Locally, the Walgreen's pharmacy in the village has had difficulty maintaining a staff to keep the drugstore open during regular hours. Many voice their outrage. Bring back RiteAid is their mantra, ignoring the fact that RiteAid voluntarily left an unprofitable business venture here. While we have needs and desires, where is it established that we have the right to have those needs met at our convenience. If registered pharmacists don't want to work in Schaghticoke, neither Walgreen's management nor anyone else can force them to.

  In times when life seems much easier and way less of a struggle than in previous times, it seems more proclaim their displeasure and say the opposite of what they are experiencing. The key may be that the sense of entitlement has expanded to a degree never before even imagined. But these times carry a  warning also never seen before. If one person can choose an easier road, then why not everyone else?If there is not enough staff in a hospital to care for patients, so what? Who is responsible? What are our rights? Who do we take our concerns to? 

   I read a while ago a futuristic account (or so it seemed at the time) of a coming age when all health care except for necessary surgery would be controlled by the individual.   Hospitals  would be surgical facilities only.  Diagnostics,  prescriptions, treatment plans would all be  activities between the patient and a network, no doctor visits or personal interaction,  so no need for malpractice insurance or facility upkeep and maintenance---just you and the internet. 

  Last week, the concept of self-care or rather no one else cares, became  a reality on a personal basis. Not a life-threatening instance, or at least I didn't think so. I woke up one morning and had absolutely no hearing in my left ear, and at a most inconvenient time. I checked with the ENT office where I'd had a less extreme hearing loss treated a few years ago, but they were booked until late October. So I bore with the problem during a few social events which had been scheduled. I learned such a disability is a double-edged sword: not only are you frustrated and annoyed because you find it hard to hear what is being said, but, even more frustrating and annoying is that others are annoyed with you because you have trouble hearing what they say. 

  For my own well being, as well as of those peeved at my hearing problem, I visited an urgent-care facility, WellNow. Everything as above became  apparent. Because it was (apparently) a minor health problem, the visit seems kind of funny. 

     I register at the desk, or tried to anyway. There was a woman behind the desk, slumped down in her seat behind a very tall glass enclosure. She was on the phone, unavailable, but another woman came out from a side door and said she would take my information. She said there would be a one-hour wait and I was welcome to go home and come back if I wished. I had brought my paper with puzzles so of course I waited. No problem so far. There was one other patient in the waiting room. After a while, he was called in and not long after I heard angry voices with the female voice asking if he was going to pay and the male angry voice saying he hadn't even seen anyone. I couldn't hear all because, you see, I have hearing loss. 

     In just about one hour, I am called into an exam room, or shown in, and left there.   After a while, a woman entered, told me her name, asked a few questions, took my bp, etc., and I couldn't help but notice her hygiene; her fingernails were dirty. She said my provider would be in. I asked who it would be. She said his name is Joe. I figured he was not an MD,  so I asked if he was a PA.No, she said, a LPN or such and then she said yes, a PA. I waited. A while.  Time went on, nothing. So I decided to leave. As I went past the desk, where  3 staff members were standing, I told them I'd had second thoughts and was going to leave. They said the Provider would be in soon, that they had only one Provider.  I told them maybe my issue is not one he treats. One said he has to, it's his job. I said I'd tried to call before I came in and  robot Amelia directed me to a "human" phone, but no one answered. Well, the phone doesn't ring here, she said, and she had no idea where it does ring. So I obliged and went back to the room and waited for Provider Joe. 

  Joe enters. I recapped my previous issue with earwax, and said the ENT office had removed it with a laser or such. He said we don't have that here. (surprise) He looked in my ears and said they both need the removal. He stepped out, didn't say good-bye or anything. After a while, another woman entered with the irrigation bottle and tray. "Hold this," she said handing me the tray, and she began to spray the water into my ear. With force, I must say, so it hurt. I can handle that, but then I felt dizzy, and told her so. She stopped, said she'd tell the doctor, and fled the room, leaving her equipment behind. I felt the irrigation bottle and it was cold. Which accounts, in large, for dizziness--it's supposed to be warm or warmish. 

  I waited, no one showed up, so I left. Passing the desk, I thanked them and said I was going home. 


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