ProjectMayhem
Active Member
OK, so 4 days ago I had to rush my dad to the ER because he couldn't breathe, and he was coughing up blood. 3 hours of waiting in the emergency room, the nurse finally comes out and tells me that he is going to be admitted, and that for the time being he is on oxygen, and no one can go in to see him since he may be contagious. Dad yelled out of the triage room for me to go on home and make phone calls to inform people of what was going on, but I didn't know what was going on, and neither did he. All the nurse would tell me is that he will be ok, and to call back in 30 minutes to see if he's in a room yet.
So I go home, wait an hour and a half, and I call the hospital back. They don't know where he is, "Call back in 10 minutes", so I did. "He's still waiting for a room." By this time we're all getting a little pissed because when I left the hospital those damn nurses were standing around bullshitting when they could have been looking for an empty room. 3 hours later, he has a room, and my mom was up there bitching at the nurses since NO ONE would tell us what was going on with him. We didn't want to know what specifically was wrong, we just wanted to know what THEY knew. All they would tell us was that he was going to be fine. An hour after Mom got there, she calls us and says that Dad has pneumonia. The doctor had found a small spot on his lower left lung that wouldn't take anytime at all to get rid of. They put him on breathing treatments and a few antibiotics, and apprently they had been working.
2 nights ago I went up to visit him. Right before I left I watched the nurse give him his 9 o'clock meds, and then helped him with his breathing treatment that the nurse said should be his last one before he went home the next day (yesterday). After he was done, I told him good night and left the hospital.
7 AM rolls around and my sister wakes me up crying.
"Drey, don't freak out, but dad's not coming home today."
Since I was still laying there with my eyes closed, half asleep, I didn't really think much of it.
"They fucked up his heart, Drey."
I opened my eyes and just stared at her for a second, not really knowing what the hell happened, what to do, or what to say.
"Dad called and said that the nurse overdosed him on medication right before you left last night. His heart rate went up so high that it caused an arrhythmia."
I jumped up, put on some britches, socks, and my shoes. "I'm going up there." After my sister left the room I called my best friend to let her know what happened. My dad is like a second dad to her, so I knew she would want to know. Before she could even answer the phone I was in hysterics. 30 minutes later she's at the house. We both piled up in her car and took off to the hospital. Dad seemed to be doing ok, but I knew that just by looking at him you couldn't tell anything was wrong with his heart. We stuck around for about an hour before Dad wanted to go to sleep. We left and came back to the house to let everyone else know how he was.
Once Dad woke up he called us, totally pissed off, and said that the nurse was trying to pin it on him as to why he had the arrhythmia. They said that he should have told him that he had heart problems in the past. My dad has NEVER had heart problems. He was born in that hospital, and it was the only one he had ever been to, so all they had to do was look at his records. Not only was he pissed off, but he was scared and worried about what was going to happen then. The doctor said that they will have to do a shock to get his heart back on track, but then decided to stick a camera down his throat to check for any blockages. If there were blockages, he would have to have open-heart surgery. He went in for the proceedure around 1 o'clock this afternoon. Luckily there were no blockages, but they still may have to insert a catheter to run dye through his system.
Now, we aren't a rich family, but we don't mind it. We never had much money growing up, and even now that my parents are divorced and my sister and I are out of the house, Dad is doing well for himself, but not well enough to pay hospital bills that he shouldn't have to pay for in the first place. He was definitely going to have to pay the $500 deductible for this year, and whatever else came from JUST the pneumonia part of his hospital stay, but I don't think he should have to pay for the hospital's fuck-up.
Here's my question:
What would you do in this situation?
So I go home, wait an hour and a half, and I call the hospital back. They don't know where he is, "Call back in 10 minutes", so I did. "He's still waiting for a room." By this time we're all getting a little pissed because when I left the hospital those damn nurses were standing around bullshitting when they could have been looking for an empty room. 3 hours later, he has a room, and my mom was up there bitching at the nurses since NO ONE would tell us what was going on with him. We didn't want to know what specifically was wrong, we just wanted to know what THEY knew. All they would tell us was that he was going to be fine. An hour after Mom got there, she calls us and says that Dad has pneumonia. The doctor had found a small spot on his lower left lung that wouldn't take anytime at all to get rid of. They put him on breathing treatments and a few antibiotics, and apprently they had been working.
2 nights ago I went up to visit him. Right before I left I watched the nurse give him his 9 o'clock meds, and then helped him with his breathing treatment that the nurse said should be his last one before he went home the next day (yesterday). After he was done, I told him good night and left the hospital.
7 AM rolls around and my sister wakes me up crying.
"Drey, don't freak out, but dad's not coming home today."
Since I was still laying there with my eyes closed, half asleep, I didn't really think much of it.
"They fucked up his heart, Drey."
I opened my eyes and just stared at her for a second, not really knowing what the hell happened, what to do, or what to say.
"Dad called and said that the nurse overdosed him on medication right before you left last night. His heart rate went up so high that it caused an arrhythmia."
I jumped up, put on some britches, socks, and my shoes. "I'm going up there." After my sister left the room I called my best friend to let her know what happened. My dad is like a second dad to her, so I knew she would want to know. Before she could even answer the phone I was in hysterics. 30 minutes later she's at the house. We both piled up in her car and took off to the hospital. Dad seemed to be doing ok, but I knew that just by looking at him you couldn't tell anything was wrong with his heart. We stuck around for about an hour before Dad wanted to go to sleep. We left and came back to the house to let everyone else know how he was.
Once Dad woke up he called us, totally pissed off, and said that the nurse was trying to pin it on him as to why he had the arrhythmia. They said that he should have told him that he had heart problems in the past. My dad has NEVER had heart problems. He was born in that hospital, and it was the only one he had ever been to, so all they had to do was look at his records. Not only was he pissed off, but he was scared and worried about what was going to happen then. The doctor said that they will have to do a shock to get his heart back on track, but then decided to stick a camera down his throat to check for any blockages. If there were blockages, he would have to have open-heart surgery. He went in for the proceedure around 1 o'clock this afternoon. Luckily there were no blockages, but they still may have to insert a catheter to run dye through his system.
Now, we aren't a rich family, but we don't mind it. We never had much money growing up, and even now that my parents are divorced and my sister and I are out of the house, Dad is doing well for himself, but not well enough to pay hospital bills that he shouldn't have to pay for in the first place. He was definitely going to have to pay the $500 deductible for this year, and whatever else came from JUST the pneumonia part of his hospital stay, but I don't think he should have to pay for the hospital's fuck-up.
Here's my question:
What would you do in this situation?
and then beat the piss out of the nurse that tried to kill my Dad
