Jason's B Cell count was not (2) as previously told to me, but actually 2% for a total of (32). This is why it is important to not just believe what people tell you, but to insist they show you proof of lab work and medication information and whatever the hell else has a direct affect on any sick loved one you have. Jason needs chemo and I have been patient about waiting for a bed. Because of his condition and its irregularity he needs to be admitted into the hospital for chemo, he cannot just have it out patient.
Flu season has hit hard and well nothing is available. There are sick people with influenza ready to claim any bed that opens up and could be for Jason. Last week I was tired. Worked all day feeling run down and I called the hospital, as I usually do several times a day. This time no one answered, and like a deranged ex-girlfriend my mind raced with craziness and I called again and again. Finally, the nurse picked up, "Jason won't stop bleeding we are taking him to the hospital."
Panic washes over you - the way it does cartoons characters. You can feel it from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet. I felt it. I felt the taste of regret like bile in the back of my throat. I wasn't there. I didn't protect him. I felt the uneasiness of panic threaten to take over. That part I keep saying broke a while back acted up again. I can't explain in an articulate fashion what I am talking about, but if you know me and you see me, especially at a time like this, you will catch it. My arm trembled uncontrollably. I know because I needed two hands and about 5 tries to get my car key in the ignition.
I made it to the hospital they told me he would be at, before he made it there. Then I sternly told the resident I wasn't playing school today. Jason had a Tic Tac sized cut on his upper lip. Because he is on blood thinners and thrashed around he looked worse than he was. This hospital visit was a paranoid on call doctors precaution - nothing more. I wasn't upset at anyone. Didn't blame anyone. Not mad. I was tired, just tired. I got him out the hospital within 27 minutes of seeing the doctor and back to his pseudo home for now. Went to work on no sleep, and dealt with the mundane. Hoping all the while just to find a corner to crawl into to rest my body from this life.
2 days later the call came. Jason had a bed and would be transported shortly. I was already at work and had to give my boss the sob story. He hasn't been too happy with me lately, and I feel like I am failing on all accounts every where. The little ones need more time with me. No matter what I do Jason is not back to normal yet, and my job is an amazing gig that I cannot dedicate myself to the way I would love to because I am a matriarch of a family, and I have a lot going on.
I shoot to the hospital and wait for the ambulance. An hour in, when we check on its arrival we are told Dr. Lennihan refused Jason's admittance and wanted his current hospital to tell his specialist AT COLUMBIA to call her. I called around the world to try to find out why. Patient relations. Transfer Unit. etc etc... What happens is you get the - "Oh you know what happened?" people who try to play the "Who told you that?" game. I went from 0-10. Actually I know I stayed on 10 for a bit because a few people came into Jason's room and eventually even his scale crept up some.
"Oh we are still waiting for a bed"
No you are not you called and said he had one. You also said Dr. Lennihan refused to accept him.
"Who told you we called?"
NEVER FUCKING MIND WHO TOLD ME!
"Oh he was refused because we don't do Chemo on the weekends"
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME WITH YOUR BULLSHIT?!?!?!?!
You know what... I am coming out my face and you are raising my blood pressure - My lawyer will deal with this. You have my son waiting in a bed while his condition is deteriorating over bullshit between doctors? I sware on my son - if something happens to him. If one system deregulates itself because of this slight - I am going to sue this fucking hospital - I am going to BUY the BITCH and then I am going to CLOSE IT!
In retrospect - I was harsh. I know and honestly I regret what I said. It was in anger and frustration and I am just tired of it all. At the same time this is what this hospital does to me. Columbia takes me there - like hard core project chick who has no sense, training or upbringing. Sadly, when I revert to everything I cannot stand everyone becomes trained poodles ready to jump through hoops and do everything they have already said they would do or we anticipated they would do. Communication lines open, the lying stops, alliances are formed, beds are miraculously found and Drs who once could not pick up the phone to speak to me suddenly call me to make appts to have my son admitted into the hospital. All we needed was a phone call to clarify questions and Jason could have been in and out of the hospital the same day - but no I had to go to war and yell and scream at people who did nothing but go to work today to express the urgency of my predicament and get an answer. I hate when people treat me like that. But there seems to be a trend at Columbia - that class of people are the ones who frequent job postings here realize urgency through tone.
I am hurrying up to wait - for Jason to get his chemo. I hate this disease and I am fucking tired.
I am so tired.
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