Dec 2, 2006
Now I will rant about medical discrimination against the elderly. My mom, eighty-seven-years young, had an infection in her nose a few weeks back. The doctor gave her an antibiotic to take. After she finished the antibiotic, the infection came back, stronger than before. She called the doctor’s office; the nurse got back to her later and said the doctor said he couldn’t prescribe any more antibiotics for her. The infection got worse. She called the doctor again to get an appointment. They said they’d get back to her. Meanwhile, my older sister just happened to call my mom, and my mom complained that she was in such pain she could hardly stand it and was having to spend her time in bed she was so tired. She also said her nose looked like a circus clown’s, it was so swollen and red. My sister told her to go down to the doctor’s office and stick her nose in so that they would see she wasn’t just some old complaining woman. My mom said she would do that if she didn’t hear from the doctor’s office by the next day. They did call the next day – a Friday, five minutes before the office closed. They gave her an appointment the following Monday. My mother waited. When she got to her appointment, they wouldn’t even let her go home – they whisked her off to the hospital. She hadn’t had much to eat, so they whisked her off into surgery immediately. She had a staff infection in her nose. She ended up on three weeks of antibiotics, the first of those weeks a drip, so she had to go to the doctor’s office every day to get the antibiotic by I.V.
My sister says that in Florida the doctors are great with the elderly when they come for their annual visits, but if they show up any other time than that, they are treated like hypochondriacs. This is a travesty of medical care.
***
We spent a nice day with Janet and John. We went out to a Mexican restaurant for lunch, then to an early afternoon movie – our first one in Auburn. The wheelchair accessible area was in the second row of seats – the seats didn’t go all the way to the end, but left enough space for Gary’s wheelchair and for me to stand next to him (since I can’t sit comfortably). For some reason, we were all quite pooped when we got back to our place. In fact, later in the evening, I had to swoop in when Gary did his transfer from futon back to wheelchair. He probably would have been all right, but it wasn’t clear he wasn’t going to fall off the chair – he didn’t get on it like he usually does – and I didn’t want to chance it (and he said it was good I hadn’t). I put that down to tiredness.
Little by little he has been doing more and more for himself. Today, he did the entire shower himself, except for me helping him with the transfers (his shower-bench-to-wheelchair transfer is still his hardest one, me providing the maximum help of lifting him with my hands under his sitting bones; he hit his head on the wall while doing the transfer, so we practiced it again and he hit his head again – there just didn’t seem to be enough room for him to maneuver, though we are going to try moving his chair in slightly a different place next time and raising the bench, provided the latter doesn’t cause his legs to dangle).
Now I will rant about medical discrimination against the elderly. My mom, eighty-seven-years young, had an infection in her nose a few weeks back. The doctor gave her an antibiotic to take. After she finished the antibiotic, the infection came back, stronger than before. She called the doctor’s office; the nurse got back to her later and said the doctor said he couldn’t prescribe any more antibiotics for her. The infection got worse. She called the doctor again to get an appointment. They said they’d get back to her. Meanwhile, my older sister just happened to call my mom, and my mom complained that she was in such pain she could hardly stand it and was having to spend her time in bed she was so tired. She also said her nose looked like a circus clown’s, it was so swollen and red. My sister told her to go down to the doctor’s office and stick her nose in so that they would see she wasn’t just some old complaining woman. My mom said she would do that if she didn’t hear from the doctor’s office by the next day. They did call the next day – a Friday, five minutes before the office closed. They gave her an appointment the following Monday. My mother waited. When she got to her appointment, they wouldn’t even let her go home – they whisked her off to the hospital. She hadn’t had much to eat, so they whisked her off into surgery immediately. She had a staff infection in her nose. She ended up on three weeks of antibiotics, the first of those weeks a drip, so she had to go to the doctor’s office every day to get the antibiotic by I.V.
My sister says that in Florida the doctors are great with the elderly when they come for their annual visits, but if they show up any other time than that, they are treated like hypochondriacs. This is a travesty of medical care.
***
We spent a nice day with Janet and John. We went out to a Mexican restaurant for lunch, then to an early afternoon movie – our first one in Auburn. The wheelchair accessible area was in the second row of seats – the seats didn’t go all the way to the end, but left enough space for Gary’s wheelchair and for me to stand next to him (since I can’t sit comfortably). For some reason, we were all quite pooped when we got back to our place. In fact, later in the evening, I had to swoop in when Gary did his transfer from futon back to wheelchair. He probably would have been all right, but it wasn’t clear he wasn’t going to fall off the chair – he didn’t get on it like he usually does – and I didn’t want to chance it (and he said it was good I hadn’t). I put that down to tiredness.
Little by little he has been doing more and more for himself. Today, he did the entire shower himself, except for me helping him with the transfers (his shower-bench-to-wheelchair transfer is still his hardest one, me providing the maximum help of lifting him with my hands under his sitting bones; he hit his head on the wall while doing the transfer, so we practiced it again and he hit his head again – there just didn’t seem to be enough room for him to maneuver, though we are going to try moving his chair in slightly a different place next time and raising the bench, provided the latter doesn’t cause his legs to dangle).
posted by Peg Daniels at 8:10 PM
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