Friday, February 27, 2009

The true story of living the system

Last night, I slept. That sleep was rudely interrupted by having to wake up and go to work. What the hell ? Why can't I just put the entire world on "pause" so I can get some fucking SLEEP for once. Whatever (muttering to herself).

So I went to work, OKAY? I went, and I worked. But not without (and I counted) SEVENTEEN phone calls about Baby. Because anything involving the state is such a damned disorganized clusterfuck that seriously, I don't know how anyone can handle working in such an environment - windowless offices, with those horrible flourescent lights and gross wall to wall carpet and peeling paint and mismatched furniture. So depressing. (Think Joe v.s. the Volcano - a movie I have referenced more then once over the past few days in conversation, sadly - because my LIFE is starting to resemble parts of that movie.)

And here's another thing. You know, I am not a brainiac. But I can recognize stupid. And unqualified. And disorganized. And it just takes one or two people who have these tendencies, to completely screw up everyone else. I speak from experience, trust me. And today, well, fuckitall I was dealing with waaaay too much of that sort of shit. Which caused me to curse almost continuously in the walk-in cooler at the restuarant for 10 minutes this morning, and I continue to curse even now when I discuss it. As you shall see in just a moment.

I will give you a prime example of the ridiculousness, and the reason for the SEVENTEEN phone calls, which isn't really a valid reason at all:

The hospital couldn't provide baby with his medications, and wanted me to bring them to the hospital.
I shit you not, the hospital called, the social worker called, the nurse from the doctors office called, another social worker called, a third social worker called, another nurse called, and finally, I just stopped answering the fucking phone. Why enable that bullshit? Let's break it down - then maybe I'll feel better about this.

First - you are a GODDAMNED HOSPITAL. How can you call yourself a hospital (and the only hospital on the ISLAND) and not be able to make up any prescription ordered ? I have never in my LIFE been expected to bring medicine from home when I was admitted into a hospital. In fact, I belive it was strongly discouraged to take your own meds. Second, the baby had been in the hospital for about 18 hours before I was called about this. And of course, the calls came while I was at work and unable to BRING the medicine down - and so the calls just kept coming and coming and coming. They were even asking me to bring meds that the baby DOESN'T TAKE. Maybe that was for the kid in the next fucking bed because they aren't going to provide HIS meds either? Who knows. But here's the clincher. I wasn't called for 18 hours, because the only number they had was the number provided to them by the baby's social worker in the emergency room. So, after calling in the bio family (who showed up to stay with baby) and leaving all of *that* drama in his wake, he didn't give the staff his cellphone number in case of emergency (with baby or bio family) so they couldn't reach him after 5pm. Or maybe he just chose not to answer his phone, also a distinct possibility. And the nurses were not given any 24 hour hotline number to try to get in touch with someone else for assitance. They had to wait. And wait. And wait. All they knew was baby was in state custody - and the parent who had custody taken away was the one at bedside. Which seemed odd (understandably). This morning, when it was critical that baby have his meds, and the extended bio family was arriving and taking turns sleeping in baby's bed, the nursing staff was getting a bit anxious. What the hell was going on with this kid - And who the hell was the responsible party? And that is when the calls started coming in. Over and over and over.

(shaking head)

The lack of common sense in this world is alarming. And for the record, I do not feel better about this after dissecting the events of today. Now I am really pissed. If the social worker had simply given them a 24 hour contact number, the hospital could have called me - LAST NIGHT - and I could have brought down the meds LAST NIGHT, and everything would have been way less ridiculous today. But that is obviously expecting too much. Oh no, we needed to involve as many fucking people as possible. And since, apparently, I am the only one who answers their cellphone, I had to just suck it.

OK seriously I am going to be back later, with a nice, happy post about sunshine and cuddles and rainbows and fucking butterflies or some shit. Even if I have to make it up.

1 comment:

derfina said...

I know how you are feeling. It is ludicrous. After I had El Juevo they were trying to save him and having to hand ventilate him because the hospital didn't have a VENTILATOR. I heard them call a neighboring hospital for one and tell them (and I quote) "And please, if you can, send two, in case someone else needs one." They were lucky I was laying there bleeding out because I wanted to rip someone's throat out. (I had NO meds, so it is all vivid as day twenty two years later.)