“You may not be aware that some of the doctors and nurses return home to their own disabled children”. That was what the staff I spoke to told me at the end of what was a long venting speech from me. The subject was about the frustrating weekend the other health professionals providing care for my son had left me with. Luckily for me this nurse provided a listening ear. As he said those words, they hit me like a ton of bricks and they sunk right into what I like to think of as my understanding.
It had been a rather long weekend. It was just Sunday morning but it felt like there had been six days in that weekend. My son had developed a new complication which meant the solution lay beyond our current hospital. Salvation awaited him in another hospital within town and in no time we were on our way to obtain it.
We arrived late that night and by morning the necessary investigations were carried out. In less than a few hours, the new hospital had delivered on its promise and saved my son from deteriorating any further. I was happy but soon, I began to get restless, irritable and very protective of my son as it appeared that the hospital had no discharge plan for him. They only seemed to want things done their own way.
This was a different hospital with totally alien structures to me. It was not like anything I was used to in the hospital I came from. I felt like I was surrounded by highly opinionated doctors who were more interested in reminding me that they were in charge rather than listening to my concerns. My son was too delicate for any trial and error. Moreover, if all was completed, and they had delivered as promised, I wondered why we were not on our way back!
My frustrations rioted within me to the point of chaos. I could not bear it anymore and just had to be heard. I asked them to discharge my son immediately. They tried without success to convince me that he had to be observed as stable before releasing him back to the hospital where we was transferred from.
As long as I was not getting what I wanted, I was getting more frustrated and feeling that they were not listening to me. It was so exhausting. I was making no progress. In no time, I started to cry. The tears were anything but calming. I felt even more frustrated and helpless.
Well in the end, after all, I had to stay. The staff did not budge. They cited his safety as the main reason for their decision to keep him in. If that was supposed to calm me down it was the wrong move. It rather made me more upset. Where they implying I wanted to endanger my son by requesting he be transferred back to our original hospital? It was ridiculous. They sounded like they loved him more than I did. Suddenly I felt like they were trying to take over, my role as his mom. I was the one meant to protect him, to keep him safe… Not them!
To be continued…
Thanks for reading.
Photo credit: Pixabay
You may also like other write ups like these.They make up the series I fondly call The Hospital life