Why I hate healthcare data point #677,434
My eldest son is profoundly autistic and non-verbal. He is largely unable to comply with many medical procedures. Dental is one of the hardest. He doesn't understand the poking and prodding and its overwhelming. As a result, he has to wait 3 years or so for dental exams. That requires a hospital setting and anethesia in order to get the job done.
I'm in the waiting room now at Wilmington Hospital and he's getting whatever work done that he needs. We literally don't know until its over what is required. One of the hardest parts is that we cannot make him understand why we're here and what's going on. He generally has a hard time waiting and that is exacerbated by the hospital setting. He will put up with the basics like height, weight and blood pressure. There is however, a countdown timer running in his head for when he decides this is all over and he's going home. At 6'2" and 220 lbs he can be very determined and the whole ordeal is very touch and go. Every. Damn. Time.
We scheduled this procedure months ago and it requires extensive planning and coordination with the hospital staff as well as his group home staff. This is complicated further by the non-existent relationship I have with my Cluster B ex.
We were scheduled for 11 AM this morning and I had to drive my other son to UD so he could get to class. All well and good until 9 AM when I get a call that we've been moved up to 10 AM. Well, shit. Get my younger son moving and showered so I could drop him off. I'm already going to be late. As I pass over 95 on the 896 overpass which is, of course, bumper to bumper I see 95 is backed up as far as I can see. Super. Awesome.
Drop off at UD and use Waze to avoid as much of the traffic as possible and race up to Wilmington Hospital. We get there only to be told that they're RUNNING LATE. Now the stress starts. We have no idea how long he will tolerate waiting. We have some reinforcers to keep him entertained and its going ok. I tell the nurse that the clock is ticking and she gets the anesthesiologist in and we explain the situation. She gives him a shot of Ketamine that is purported to last "a few hours". He starts holding his head (it makes you dizzy) and he fights as hard as he could but eventually falls asleep. Two seconds later he is has a rash around his neck and his sleep apnea has his oxygen levels crashing. The doctor starts looking concerned and starts 02 mask and suction to get his throat cleared of mucus so he can breathe. It works for a minute then he's going pale as he still can't breathe well. They put a tube in and he starts breathing but with a rattle that I don't like. After about 10 minutes the rash clears so it was probably just stress. He starts coming around and is trying to get up. I hold his hand and rub his head to try to keep him calm. The "few hours" dose was enough for about an hour.
He calms down a bit and they eventually take him back to the OR which brings us to now.
This may seem small but it was very, very stressful.
My question: Why did the doctor's office call us for the mad scramble to get there early when they're running late? Why does every damn doctor in this state require us to arrive early when they are ALWAYS running late. A week and a half ago we had a gastro appointment. We arrived half an hour early and when we were half an hour past the appointment time I went to the desk to ask what was happening. "It's only been half an hour". That is precisely the problem. Why am I expected to arrive early and I'm supposed to not care that they're running late? To make all of that worse, there were TWO other patients ahead of him which would have meant at least another hour. The front desk staff didn't care and I asked if they could have him jump the line as he's incapable of waiting. They said no. I pointed out that the other two patients were clearly in their 70s and 80s and would be perfectly able to wait. Nope. Not even going to try.
I fucking hate healthcare here. I have no love for state run medicine but whatever we have now is an abject failure.
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