The Rehab Center:
The rehab specialist arrived on Thursday to run some tests and ask some questions:
Can you stand? Only briefly
Raise your leg? No
Fetch something with your left hand? No
Do anything with your left-hand side? Raise one finger 3mm
“I propose to have you admitted to the rehab center,” he told me with a smile. “You will improve more there than anywhere else.”
That sounded good to me. I knew I had a lot to work on because I couldn’t do anything in my current state.
“It’s hard work, though, in a rehab center,” he warned me, which I thought was a peculiar remark. As a CVA patient, everything I did was hard work. Just getting out of bed was more difficult for me than mountain climbing would be for you. I needed the agility of an acrobat just to put my pants on in the morning.
Later on I learned from other patients at the rehab center that it wasn’t made available to every CVA patient. One gentleman, who was my age and paralyzed on the left side as well, was first sent to an old-folks home. He lived there like a plant for three months before the doctors acknowledged that he’d progress more at the rehab center. I considered myself lucky to be sent directly there, and I thanked the universe that an available space was open for me at that time.
Another lady came to visit me to ask whether I would participate in the Explicit Research Project. She explained how its research would measure the effectiveness of different treatments on young CVA patients. I knew how hard it was to get appropriate candidates for research, so I was happy to oblige. The lady provided me with a leaflet, and she said she would follow up at the rehab center.
The doctor in training stopped by. She was working hard to have my transfer file ready before I left the next day due to its importance. She told me to stop by the secretary before I left and ask for my file if it wasn’t brought to me beforehand.
The next morning two paramedics were waiting to take me with them. I was rolled onto a stretcher and wrapped up in blankets before being strapped to it. Suddenly, I realized I didn’t have my transfer file yet, and I told the paramedics that we needed to get it from the secretary before we left. They agreed.
The secretary was enjoying a cup of coffee when we showed up. When I asked her for my file, she pretended to look around her desk briefly, then told me she couldn’t find it.
“It’s not a problem,” she assured me. “We will fax your papers to the rehab center.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Faxing? What century did we live in? And who spread the myth that information via fax was confidential and safer than email?
I repeated that the doctor in training had moved heaven and earth to have my transfer file ready so that I could take it with me. I wanted her to retrieve it for me now. The secretary pretended to put forth another fake effort to look for my file. Her body language spoke louder than words, telling me she didn’t want to find the file. This was her territory, and she was in charge. Period.
I realized I wouldn’t win this battle and told the paramedics we could go. Just when we were past the doors, I heard high heels clicking in the hallway. It was the doctor in training who came by to see if I got my transfer file. When I told her I didn’t get it despite multiple requests, she hurried back and plucked my file from a pile on the top of the secretary’s desk. If looks could kill, the secretary would have been dead by now.
“Here you are,” the doctor told me as she passed me the file. “This way you’ll have all the information you’ll need in the rehab center.”
The paramedics saw the entire episode, but they kept a neutral expression on their faces. They whisked me off to the ambulance and loaded me inside. One paramedic sat next to me as we travelled, and I asked his opinion of what he just witnessed.
“Well,” he replied, “patient transfers usually have flaws, but this is a big one. One cannot change the system by themselves.”
The Large Organization is back.
We discussed what we do, and it turned out this paramedic was also a trainer in healthcare. I told him about my plans to share my experiences with managers and directors in healthcare in order to get the opportunity to improve things — in this hospital, for instance. He thought that was a great idea, and when we arrived at the rehab center (in record speed), we exchanged contact information just in case. Hubby always carried some of my business cards for networking instances like these. The next day we found each other on Linkedin.