Chronic pain things😎
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒
There was a TikTok of an (American) woman who was documenting her husband’s ICU room and expressing displeasure with the state it was in, it was generally unclean with broken equipment, rust stains, clipped flooring, things that can make a medical environment unsafe. I opened the comments expecting people to be like “Wow, that’s scary. And a huge infection risk. ICU stays often cost patients upwards of $100k and not enough of that money is going to maintenance and cleaning.” But instead it was nurses being utterly vile to this woman. Not saying “You’re right, it’s terrible that we’re forced to do our jobs in unsafe, unclean and outdated environments.” they were telling her she was a prime example of why patients’ families were the worst part of their job.
The hospital that charged my insurance $87k for a single endoscopy & colonoscopy performed on me was recently fined for having dirty equipment. If not on sanitation, if not on giving nurses and providers better wages, if not on updating the facility, where the hell did that money go? If nurses could band together to attack and criticize hospital administration and the American medical system in the way they band together to attack and criticize patients and advocates online, all of our lives could improve.
But of course it is easier to raise the sword against the vulnerable person dependent on your care, on the people often experiencing the worst day of their life when they are too frightened and in pain to treat you with courtesy. It’s easier to lash out at the patient inquiring about their medication after waiting two hours than to lash out at the people responsible for making you responsible for 30 patients at once.
I don’t think anyone blames nurses for hospital rooms being nasty. It’s not their job. It’s the job of custodial staff and maintenance. It’s the job of administration to fund those departments. It’s a problem at the top. If we could all look upwards instead of down when it comes to who we criticize and blame, we could make progress.
I love a good medical drama. My mother, a nurse, raised me on ER and General Hospital, always pointing out all the plot lines that “would never happen in real life” but were really cool to watch on TV. My mother credits ER with pushing her toward her decades-long career in the operating room. So when I, a poor lost college sophomore who had gone to school to play French horn (French horn!) and found it wasn’t what I thought it would be, I did what I knew best to do and turned to TV. And on TV, I found House.
House had it all: a painkiller-addicted doctor with a smart mouth and a slap-worthy face, medical mysteries solved via CSI-style case-of-the-week format, and a beleaguered crew of sidekick physicians whose instincts were never quite as good as House’s. I would spend each episode studying the setup and trying to unravel what the medical culprit could be before the ultimate reveal. Instead of realizing that what I might want to be was a writer with a good plot, I missed the mark and decided I wanted to be a doctor.
Want to feel like you’re watching House, M.D. this Tuesday morning? Dig into Lisa Bubert’s new reading list on medical mysteries!
When a chronically ill or disabled person gets their lab tests back as “normal” or all clear, we aren’t sad because we WANT to be sick.
We’re sad because we *know* there’s something wrong with us, yet the scans still stay clear.
Before you kill the monster you gotta know its name.
𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃
𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 : lexi / 24 / gad & ibs
𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬 : chronic illness / disability / invisible disability / gut health / mental illness / advocacy