Today I read an absolutely sad story in the Sunday
Observer. Essentially, a woman of
Jamaican origins, residing in the UK, was in Jamaica in April of this year with
her family. She became ill and was
rushed to a health care facility in Linstead. She was diagnosed with pneumonia, and some
amount of respiratory distress was evident. The doctor on duty advised the family that
there was not much more that could be done for the woman due to the lack of
appropriate equipment at that facility.
That in and of itself is sad and scary: do not get into respiratory
distress in Linstead! But what happened
next is what angered and upset me. The
woman’s family panicked and became (understandably) emotional. They immediately wanted to transfer the woman
to UHWI in Kingston, but that became a journey through beaurocracy and
regulations and a negotiation with the doctor on duty. Read the entire sad and depressing story here
if you will,
http://www.jamaicaobserver.com/news/Coma-calamity_12407307.
The end result is that after a protracted period of time
(while the woman was fighting for oxygen!) during which the doctor on duty
locked himself in his office, choosing not to engage the family and calm them
down and reassure them, leaving them to wonder and to plot their next move in
fear and uncertainty, the woman was eventually transferred to UHWI and several
months later, several millions of dollars later, she remains in a coma here in
Jamaica, with the lack of oxygen being thought to be the main contributor to
her present condition.
Here’s my beef: how dare the doctor on duty lock himself away? How dare the doctor not make himself
available to the family? I know that he
couldn’t pull a respirator out of his back pocket. I know he couldn’t magically produce a well
equipped treatment room. But what he
could do, he simply did not: that is to be present to reassure and to guide the
family. Yes, yes , yes…there are two
sides to every story, and we did not hear the doctor’s side, but I have had
several experiences of my own, which lead me to give the benefit of the doubt
to the patient and her family.
Many years ago Miss World was about four years old and she
started vomiting with severe stomach cramps.
It was a long weekend…I believe Easter, and the best option we thought
was to take her to the public Children’s Hospital. We three bundled into their
ER and eventually saw a doctor who gave her a well known analgesic/anti-spasmodic,
antibiotics and rehydration salts.
Great, we took her home hoping that all would be well. Twenty four hours we three were back in the
ER. This time we saw and African doctor
who insisted that he had the magic cure as he dramatically pronounced that the
said same anti-spasmodic would fix her once and for all! I grabbed her chart out of his hands and
hissed as I waved it around: “Did you not just review her chart? Can you not read? She TOOK your wonder drug
24 hours ago and we’re back!” That
prompted a review and revision of her prescribed therapy, and in another 24
hours she was ok. Man alive! Suppose I did not know what questions to
ask? Suppose I was not assertive in the
face of these people who qualify as doctors and feel that they are God? Can you imagine Jamaicans who are not so
educated doing business with this bunch?
On another occasion a few years later, Miss World again had
a bad attack of gastro. This time we
took her to a private hospital, having to make a deposit of JD70,000.00 because
she wasn’t on our health insurance. Even
in that private set up I had to point out to a very bored looking, sullen
reluctant nurse that I had a concern that her IV drip was draining just a bit
to quickly in my estimation. Without
even looking, she tried to fob me off.
But I was in no mood to be put off by someone that I was in effect paying,
especially when the well-being of my offspring was at stake. Was she for real? When she inspected the set up she had the
good grace to gasp and say: “Oh no!” I
wanted to choke her. Seriously.
Miss World was discharged and before we reached home she was
writhing in pain and I did an about turn and headed straight up to the public
UHWI. At my request, her private
paediatrician met us there to help expedite the process. Again, this was at my hysterical insistence
on the phone as I drove like a mad woman up to UHWI. By this time I was panicked, hysterical and
angry. I handled the young doctor
assigned to our case like a stuffed toy quizzing him in a very hostile, angry
manner, even daring to question his competence.
To his credit, he did not respond like the Linstead doctor per the Observer
account today. He remained present,
answered my every question and reassured me of the diagnosis and therapy. I sincerely hope that the years have not
jaded him and changed him. Well that
incident ended with me storming out of UHWI with Miss World in my arms cussing
every doctor in sight because it was unbelievable to me that in the 21st
century, a stomach ache which did not warrant surgery could not be cured!
Doctors must remain accessible and communicative, even in
the face of obstreperous patients and their families. Remember that the only difference between
doctors and us is that they chose to study medicine. Big deal.
How impressive. I studied botany. He studied engineering. She studied law. We all have our function. Being a doctor does not make you God. Get over it and remember the oath you took.
Remember too that when you are a private practitioner, we are your
customers. We pay you. How dare you take appointments for dozens of
us at the same time and then you waltz in up to an hour and half later? I suppose to your mind, you are important
enough for us to spend half a day waiting to be seen by you for 10 minutes max. I have had doctors write me a prescription without
even telling me what is on the said prescription and how it works. Once I had the temerity to ask the doctor how
a particular drug worked. He replied
that I could not possibly understand and that I was just to use it as per his
directions. Needless to say I gave him a
lecture and explained that I had a science background and that even if I did
not, his job was to break it down for me to understand. I walked out and never went back to him. He is still a prominent dermatologist in
Jamaica.
I resent doctors who do not communicate with me. I resent doctors who keep me waiting. I resent doctors who make assumptions about
me and my health without asking questions. But most of all, I am sorry for and
scared for my fellow Jamaicans who don’t know how to ask and what to ask and
who fear these people that we call doctors in Jamaica.
Labels: appointments, doctors, health care, Jamaica, Linstead, Observer, UHWI