Yeah. This is definitely not the “Ariadne’s thread”… through the numerous blind… Minotaur lurking… dark hallways… through the murderous medical gauntlet… of the modern hospital maze… that I want to pick up again.
However. The cyber-show must go… digitally diddling on….
Such is the cruel, invidious life of an everyday (modern nobody) hero these days.
So.
Back to Tartarus, USA.
Back to the mysterious Lost Island of the Health Care Damned.
Back to the court ruled by the Great Pale Money-Green (not-so-jolly)
Ho Ho Ho…
Giant, bloated, sick, festering, dying, overpriced, underpaid, duplicitous…
Miserable Medical Mafia Establishment!!!
Back to the Modern Corporate Death Machine.
Back to the insidious on/off switch… pain (and hunger) games.
Back to rating your torture on a scale of 1-10!
Back to the clock-faced <<dollar-counting>> cyclops with the grinning
Stoplight green eyeball.
Back to the spiteful… multicultural, multilingual… mad robots.
Back to the opioid-induced-nightmare-post-op-traffic-jammed…
Land of Angry Santa Monica!!
Back to Providence Saint John’s, the LA Ritz.
Back to Anton Bilchik, Andy Warhol, John Wayne, Marilyn Monroe…
Celebrity Hell.
Back to Tartarus, USA.
Back to the mysterious Lost Island of the Health Care Damned.
Back to the court ruled by the Great Pale Money-Green (not-so-jolly)
Ho Ho Ho…
Giant, bloated, sick, festering, dying, overpriced, underpaid, duplicitous…
Miserable Medical Mafia Establishment!!!
Back to the Modern Corporate Death Machine.
Back to the insidious on/off switch… pain (and hunger) games.
Back to rating your torture on a scale of 1-10!
Back to the clock-faced <<dollar-counting>> cyclops with the grinning
Stoplight green eyeball.
Back to the spiteful… multicultural, multilingual… mad robots.
Back to the opioid-induced-nightmare-post-op-traffic-jammed…
Land of Angry Santa Monica!!
Back to Providence Saint John’s, the LA Ritz.
Back to Anton Bilchik, Andy Warhol, John Wayne, Marilyn Monroe…
Celebrity Hell.
What a way to start the day! Right?
Away we go, folks…
No dragonwell tea, sir. No. Nothing for you.
Today. Then. Yesterday. Ever.
Today, we get to meet our first… real, or is it imaginary?… hospitalist.
That’s right. Never hear of a fabled “hospitalist”?
A hospitalist is a modern day… hospital term… for… what we used to call… “the doctor”
A general practitioner?
A general practitioner?
No. Not necessarily.
What Is a Hospitalist?
Medical Author: Siamak Nabili, MD, MPH
Medical Editor: William C. Shiel, Jr., MD, FACP, FACR
Medical Editor: William C. Shiel, Jr., MD, FACP, FACR
If you have or someone you know has recently been admitted to a hospital, chances are that they were not seen by their primary care physician in the hospital. As a result, many patients ask questions such as:
Where is my doctor?
Why isn't my doctor here to oversee my healthcare while I'm in the hospital?
How does my primary care physician know that I am in the hospital?
Is my own doctor going to be updated about my care?
Why isn't my doctor here to oversee my healthcare while I'm in the hospital?
How does my primary care physician know that I am in the hospital?
Is my own doctor going to be updated about my care?
So, why isn't your primary care physician overseeing your care while hospitalized?
The reason is a relatively new trend in the care of hospitalized patients. Hospitalist is the term used for doctors who are specialized in the care of patients in the hospital. This movement was initiated about a decade ago and has evolved due to many factors. These factors include:
convenience,
efficiency,
financial strains on primary care doctors,
patient safety,
cost-effectiveness for hospitals, and
need for more specialized and coordinated care for hospitalized patients.
efficiency,
financial strains on primary care doctors,
patient safety,
cost-effectiveness for hospitals, and
need for more specialized and coordinated care for hospitalized patients.
Most hospitalists are board-certified internists (internal medicine physicians) who have undergone the same training as other internal medicine doctors including medical school, residency training, and board certification examination. The only difference is that hospitalists have chosen not to practice traditional internal medicine due to personal preferences. Some hospitalist physicians are family practice doctors or medical subspecialists who have opted to do hospitalist work such as, intensive care doctors, lung doctors (pulmonologists), or kidney doctors (nephrologists).
There are many advantages of hospitalists in the care hospitalized patients. One advantage is that hospitalists' have more expertise in caring for complicated hospitalized patients on a daily basis. They are also more available most of the day in the hospital to meet with family members, able to follow-up on tests, answer nurses' questions, and simply to deal with problems that may arise. In many instances, hospitalists' may see a patient more than once a day to assure that care is going according to plan, and to explain test findings to patients and family members.
Hospitalists also coordinate the care of patients' in hospital and are "captain of the ship." They are the physicians that organize the communication between different doctors caring for a patient, and serve as the point of contact for other doctors and nurses for questions, updates, and delineating a comprehensive plan of care. They are also the main physician for family members to contact for updates on a loved one.
Similarly, because hospitalists are in the hospital most of the time, they are able to track test results and order necessary follow-up tests promptly. This is in contrast to the traditional setting where your primary doctor may come to the hospital the next day to follow-up the results and take the next necessary step at that time.
Similarly, because hospitalists are in the hospital most of the time, they are able to track test results and order necessary follow-up tests promptly. This is in contrast to the traditional setting where your primary doctor may come to the hospital the next day to follow-up the results and take the next necessary step at that time.
Since the hospitalist's "office" is the hospital, and they are also more familiar with the hospital's policies and activities. Many hospitalists are involved in various hospital committees, and assist in improving important areas such as patient safety, medical error reduction, effective communication between physicians and staff, and cost effective patient care.
The main disadvantage of having a hospitalist take care of you in the hospital is that, they may not know your detailed medical history as well as
your primary doctor. Another problem is that your primary care doctor may not have access to the details of your hospitalization care (tests, procedures, results, medications, medical plan of action, etc.). These problems have been dealt with to a degree by communication between the primary care doctor and the hospitalist, which usually, and ideally, takes place at least twice during a hospitalization, once upon admission and again prior to discharge from the hospital.
So next time you or someone you know are admitted to the hospital, do not get offended that your primary care doctor will not be caring for you in the hospital. Rest assured that the hospitalist doctor rendering the care has the qualification to provide you optimal care during your hospital stay.
Wow. So now you know. But. On March 26, 2014. When I woke up shuddering from my first night in hell. I did not know what a mysterious “hospitalist” was.
I woke up in pain. As I said above. Well. Of course I woke up in pain. I just had a third of my liver, a chunk of the right lobe, toward the top of the liver right beside the diaphragm… And. Something I did not know. Something that no one would tell me for some time. I had also had my useful gall bladder removed. Common practice apparently…
While we’re in there… whittling away at that cocktail grapefruit-size cancerous tumor… carving off juicy malignant liver steaks… trying to leave a good margin of error… making sure… hoping to get all of badass Genghis and his rotten yurt belongings out of there… what the hell… why not lop off the gall bladder as well?… free of charge… who needs a silly gall bladder anyway?… like those unnecessary tonsils… that dispensable sigmoid colon… and that ridiculous phased-out appendage… the appendix…
What the hell did cavemen use that for anyway?
Right. Who needs em? Surely not me. Not at the moment.
What I needed was…?
To talk to my caring doctor?
To talk to the surgeon who chopped me?
To talk to my caring doctor?
To talk to the surgeon who chopped me?
To talk to someone knowledgeable, helpful… kind and considerate?
To meet another warm, compassionate soul on the difficult journey of
this sad life…
To meet another warm, compassionate soul on the difficult journey of
this sad life…
Hello? Anyone?
Is there anyone out there who isn’t angry, busy and downright rude?
Is there anyone out there who isn’t angry, busy and downright rude?
Hello? Hello?
Are you there, my father? Hath thou forsaken me?! Even in this bloody goddamn Catholic madhouse institution…
Wuzzup, pal.
Hello. Yes.
I am in pain.
Yes, it hurts there.
There where they did the surgery. Yes.
And, I have a vicious, five-alarm migraine headache!!
I am in pain.
Yes, it hurts there.
There where they did the surgery. Yes.
And, I have a vicious, five-alarm migraine headache!!
On a scale of what!?
I need some medication. Yes.
I already said.
I am in pain. Yes.
I already said.
I am in pain. Yes.
On a scale of… blah-blah… wtf?!
The surgery is a nine… the migraine is an eleven.
What?! A scale of 1-10….
Right. Can I talk to a doctor?
Hello?
Ok.
Adios, amigo.
Hello?
Ok.
Adios, amigo.
Eventually. Some day. Actually. Usually. Once a day. Randomly. Most often. Around ten or eleven at night. When you’re beyond exhausted. When you’ve given up all hope.
That’s right. When you’re almost certainly completely out of it. For thirty seconds to a minute. A drive by encounter. Most likely.
But. On occasion. On rare occasion in the morning.
You might. If you’re lucky. Get to talk to an elusive, mythical hospitalist. Not necessarily a qualified, intelligible hospitalist. Or. Someone who has a clue what’s going on… And. Not necessarily the same hospitalist twice. Oh no. That’s highly unlikely.
Just like the biomorphic angry android robots who keep repeating the alarming phrase… on a scale of 1-10…
These bizarre, multicultural, hard to understand… hospitalists.
They’re clueless. They’re not helpful. Most of them. Most of them come from foreign countries like Afghanistan, Syria, Iraq and Iran. Most of them are speaking English as a second, third… fourth dialect. Most of them do not live in the area. Or anywhere near the hospital you are currently trapped in. Most of them are overworked, overburdened by life, and if you will listen to them… underpaid, unhappy… stretched to the limit… stressed out… trying to keep up… doing the best they can, etc
But. No. They haven’t seen your records yet. They don’t have a clue what’s going on. The computer isn’t working. And they either just came onto their twelve hour shifts. Or. They are just about to leave. To fly back to their family on the other coast. Or, wherever… Istanbul
Welcome to Holy Un-hospitality Hell!
Welcome to the cancer casino… in the inflamed bowels… of the modern medical nightmare… Rancheria Hades, 2014.
Meet your first of many… crapshooting… blackjack dealing… wheel of fortune spinning… hospitalists.
Hold on. The surgeon’s assistant. What was his name? Pradeep? Or, Deepak? We have his cell phone number somewhere. Ah. Here. Let’s try him.
Hello. This is, Hugh Alan Liles. Yes. I just woke up. No. Not so good. I have a terrible migraine headache. Actually. It’s worse than the surgical pain. Yes. Kind of gives me a distraction from my screaming, grieving liver.
What? You “don’t do migraines”. Sorry? Oh. Good bye.
Thanks for nothing.
Ah. The infamous, invisible doctor is here finally!! There’s hope! No.
Your… hospitalist… is here!!
Wtf?! What is a hospitalist?
Never mind. Yes. I am in pain. At least a hundred.
And then. He. It’s a hirsute he. My first rare, exotic… hospitalist.
He says, ironically. I see you liked your pain medication. You used up all of your allotment already apparently.
What?! How’s that?! That stuff was useless! I tell him with alarm. Had to keep pushing that goddamn green button every ten minutes for the past twelve hours!!
That good, huh? he smirks.
That bad!! I say.
It didn’t seem to work for more than ten minutes at a go!! And.
It gave me horrible hallucinations!! And.
To make matters worse. It triggered a migraine. Now I have a pounding, ungodly migraine.
Yes. On the right side, in the back. Here. And down the right side of my body.
What? You don’t… “do migraines”!?!
You’re kidding, right? I am in a modern western hospital in 2014?
More morphine? Huh?
I just told you. I don’t want more… morphine… (if that’s what you call the hell realm ruled by a big green-eyed cyclops with a clock face for a face)
Do I have any other choices for pain medication besides morphine?
Well. I had demerol in Old Baptist Hospital in New Orleans, Louisiana once… back in 1980… when I came back from Belize… with typhus, salmonella poisoning, and, meningeal virus. I had a hellish headache that wouldn’t quit for days… on top of feverish delirium. I believe they finally gave me demerol. And that seemed to work. Put me on the ceiling for sure.
Oh no. He shook his head, sardonically. I can assure you… you’re not getting… demerol, pal.
Was it a Jersey? or, a Brooklyn accent? I detected.
I suppose what you really want is heroin. Isn’t that right, pal?
Don’t you really want… heroin? He said, in a whining, mocking… definitely east coast… urban white boy… “wise guy” accent.
Heroin!?! wtf…
Sorry, gringo. We don’t do heroin here in Saint John’s…
I was speechless to say the least. Actually. I could not believe what the arrogant prick had just said to me. “Sorry gringo we don’t do…
Did he really just accuse… insult me? And blow me off like that?
Who was this… late-twenties? Early thirty-something year old arrogant son of a bitch?
Who was this… late-twenties? Early thirty-something year old arrogant son of a bitch?
He was my first real, live… hospitalist.
Wow. Amazing encounter with the miraculous.
Did I hear right? (Was I just slapped in the face by a… a… “fuck you” kid hospitalist?)
Yes. I most certainly did.
I said. No pain meds, please. No morphine, thanks.
And.
I can reassure you, folks.
It went… all downhill… into the bottomless pit of Tartarus… from there.
Welcome to hell. Now die you muthafuckas!!!
