I just got home from work, I'm a nurse.

I would really like to know if any of you have been in the hospital, and if you had any negative experiences with your nurse, doc, anything....

What could have made it different or better?

Any real positive things happen, a small act of kindness that made a world of difference?

a href="http://dreamwater.com/katrn/">HuaHuaville

-- Anonymous, June 19, 2000

Answers

My father is diabetic, and last summer he went to the hospital with severe pains in his abdomen. The doctors weren't sure what it was, so they kept him for observation. They thought it could be anything from a bladder infection to gallstones.

After a few days, they decided that my father's gall bladder had ruptured. They scheduled him for surgery, which would have been a tiny incision about the length of my thumbnail. It was rescheduled twice. When they opened him up, they found out that my dad's gall bladder had gone gangrinous. They had to perform more invasive surgery to remove his gall bladder, which resulted in an incision four or five inches long. My father got an infection on the incision. I don't think he was at any risk of dying from the infection, but he could have died if they'd taken any longer to diagnose what was wrong with him and operate. I mean, he's diabetic. I know hospitals are understaffed and all, but when diabetes is involved, shouldn't doctors make an effort to make a timely diagnosis? He had gangrene!

I'm sorry, but I wasn't in town when it happened (I live 3500 km from my parents), and I was the one who had to remain calm and call all my relatives to let them know what was going on. My mother and brother were out of their heads with worry. I kept telling them "It's only a gall bladder. He'll be fine." But deep down, I was as worried as they were. And even though it's been almost a year since it happened, that incident made me realize that my parents are getting older. I'm not there if something major happens. It scares me. I had to bully my mother into getting a medicare card. I still don't think she got it.

I worry about them. I guess I'm still a little scared about what hapened last year. You see, being the oldest child, it fell on me to be the level-headed one. My mother was a nervous wreck, and my brother was too. He may put up a brave front, but basically, he's a marshmallow. When he was little, he cried when we got rid of our old washing machine. He was going to miss it. The guy fears change. Because he and Mom were busy being basket cases, I wasn't really given the option of freaking out, so I guess I'm doing it now. Even though Dad's fine.

As for good stuff, he had a really nice nurse. She even put up with his lame jokes. Are you guys trained to do that?

-- Anonymous, June 19, 2000

Heather, There actually is a required class every nurse must pass called "patients lame jokes,a survival guide for the nurse"-hee, I kid ;->. Seriously, my motto is during work my #1 priority is my patient, if laughing at my patients lame jokes makes them feel better- -it will be. Besides, they certainly have been subjected to my lame jokes. Aforementioned motto has got me through many a night during nurses squabbling amongst themselves, demanding docs, angry, and rude patients, etc.....

-- Anonymous, June 19, 2000

My grandfather also was diabetic - but there was a hospital nearby that had a special floor for diabetics. You came into ER and they sent someone down special to take care of you.

That's the last nice things I'll say.

I have asthma and once you tell the hospital, you MIGHT get someone to help you a bit faster - depends on who you tell. I'm having a huge attack, have taken the plunge to come to the ER, and freaking !NO ONE! will help me. Last time I went it took about 3 people before I got a nurse who gave me a treatment & took my vitals. By that point my oxygen levels had sunk, I felt like complete crap, I was ready to pass out, and was pissed because no one would help me. It is *after all* THE EMERGENCY ROOM.

When I was 18 I was in a car wreck. They bring me to the ER in an ambulance firmly fastened to a back board with a neck brace one. Every single person who goes through school should have to be fastened to one of these things for 6 hours sitting outside the nurse's station - nothing to eat, completely alone, no one even bothering to check on me. The nice thing was that a little old lady whose husband was having tests run b/c they thought he was having a heart attack - this lady came over to me. At this point I was crying because I was alone & scared & cold & hungry & and in a freaking lot of pain. She held my hand, got a nurse to bring ice chips, which she fed me, brushed my hair out of my face, and said a prayer for me. She was sooooooo nice.

-- Anonymous, June 19, 2000

I have been to the emergency room four times in my life. Three times was for me, and once was when my year-old son had the croup and was having trouble inhaling. My own three injuries were so minor that it's embarrassing -- a torn-off big toenail (aggressive soccer game), a rusty nail-hole in my foot, and a dizzy spell at the end of a semester of law school. Perhaps as a result of how minor those injuries were, no one has ever paid me any attention in an emergency room. I think that's where I would go if I needed to hide from the cops, or get a few hours of privacy when I wanted no one to speak to me.

But, I have to say that the one time it counted, the folks at Metrowest Medical Center in Framingham, MA were very quick to treat my little boy, watched his condition very carefully, and were very patient with panic-stricken me and the wife.

In answer to your question, Karen, what made it better in Frmaingham was that one of the three people on duty came by at least every ten minutes to check my son's status. There's nothing worse than long waits between contact with the staff, and not knowing how long to expect to wait. When I had that torn toe-nail, I sat in the admitting room -- Mercy Hospital near Ann Arbor, Michigan -- from 8:00 p.m. until 3:00 a.m., and no one would even give me an estimate of how long I was going to be there.

-- Anonymous, June 19, 2000

Three years ago, I was home on a lazy Sunday morning, making breakfast with my then-boyfriend. He was in charge of the gravy, and as he stirred boiling oil and flour together, I was scrambling the eggs next to him.

"Oh, watch out!" he said, and an instant later, I felt a curious sizzling feeling on my foot. Trying to help, he bent down and wiped his hand across the oil, taking layers of skin with it and burning the hell out of his hand in the process.

We went to the emergency room, and ended up waiting 6 hours, because just before we arrived, there was a serious accident.

It's not a situation I'm eager to re-live, but the nurse who ended up cleaning my foot and cutting off the dead skin (and popping all those nasty blisters) was very gentle.

I once had to go to the emergency room in the middle of the night with my daughter, who was 4 at the time, and we ended up waiting forever between the time we saw the doctor, and the time the nurse came in to give her her first dose of antibiotic and pain medication. I've always wondered why it takes so long after you've seen the doctor to get out of the emergency room. No doubt it has something to do with them needing to finish filling out your chart or something...

-- Anonymous, June 19, 2000

Oy...I had to go the ER a couple of months ago for chest pain. I really thought I was having a heart attack; my dad had one at 36, and a second one at 47, so one could say there's a history of heart disease in my family.

In any case, the admission was great. Say you have chest pain and everyone drops what they're doing. Getting an IV in the hand sucked. In fact, considering the nurse had to stick me three times, I'd say it more than sucked. It fucking hurt. Admitted, I'm a hard stick in the hand, and I told her that--but jeez! I still have the scar.

Six hours in the ER. No food or drink. Normal EKG. No diagnosis. Follow up with my regular doc the next day. The nurses were all great. The doc...not impressed. Most interesting, tho, was a toss-up between the cranky guy across the way who was checking himself out AMA and the drunk three beds down who kept us all giggling madly at his inebriated antics. I swear, I saw the nurses doing rock-paper-scissors to decide who would deal with him.

What would have made it better? Being fed, even some jello. Using a smaller needle in the IV. In general, I admire the work nurses do. Every now and again, I come across Nurse Ratched, but it's pretty rare.

When my dad died, the chaplain was awesome (and I'm not a big fan of chaplains/priests/ministers). The nurses all looked like I was going to freak out when we said we were there to see dad. We knew he was dead, but they must have thought we didn't know because they all got this look like they'd rather be anywhere else at that moment.

-- Anonymous, June 19, 2000

I've had three minor surgeries and gone to the emergency room a few times. Every time, everyone's been great. The only complaint I had about the emergency room is that I know they do triage, but it would help if someone would come out & tell you what's going on from time to time, so you don't think they've forgotten about you.

-- Anonymous, June 19, 2000

Hate the ER.

I was in a car accident and hit my head on the window. Rode in the ambulance to the hospital. The nurse was nice, took good care of me, But then I lay for a half hour on the stretcher outside the exam room, while being question by the police about the accident.

My head was spinning and I was scared and no one came by to check on me or the woman in the stretcher beside me who was bleeding a fair streak from a head wound.

They'd packed her up with cotton but it still looked bad from where I was lying.

Thank goodness I had a friend there holding my hand or I would have freaked out major.

Earlier this year, Sabs went to the ER twice when he had bronchitis and couldn't breathe anymore. The first time, we were seen within an hour. They took him back and hooked him up to the mister/air treatment thingie and stuck him on an IV and left me out in the waiting room.

After I'd been out there for an hour, the nurse came looking for me and let me stay with him. I fell asleep in the rocker in the exam room and a nurse came by every twenty minutes or so to check on him. When his IV ran out, I had to go get someone though and had a hard time flagging someone down.

When he had to go back a few days later, having a breath attack again, I was to sick to go with him, but his mother had come down she went with him. The wait was longer that time because the sickness we'd both caught was going around and _everyone_ had it.

-- Anonymous, June 19, 2000

From the time when I was 10 to 13, I was a patient at a variety of hospitals in the pediatric hematology/oncology section. I went from dealing with nurses and doctors on a weekly basis to dealing with them for yearly checkups. During the time when I was there frequently, I can't remember a doctor or nurse who I did not have a good interaction with. I certainly had my favorite nurses, the ones who were deft with the needle and didn't need to poke around to find a vein, and favorite doctors, the ones with great bed side manners.
As I got better, and was in the hospital less frequently, my relationship with the nurses (especially) changed. I no longer knew them by name, I no longer had a favorite, they had been transformed into technicians who were there to draw blood. They were no longer there to distract me with something funny while they drew blood.
On the whole, I'd have to say that as I moved from situations where contact was brief (ER, checkups) to where it was prolonged (weekly visits), my relationships with doctors and nurses were better and more caring.

-- Anonymous, June 19, 2000

I had each of my three kids at hospitals. I'd say that 90% of the nurses were like freaking angels, they were so nice. The annoying ones didn't really do anything to speak of... at most they'd say something insensitive, but that was it.

-- Anonymous, June 19, 2000

I have to say that my experience may have been a reflection of where I was - I live in Houston & all the aforementioned times I went to St. Luke's in the Med Center. NOT exactly a low traffic place.

-- Anonymous, June 20, 2000

I've had two extended hospital stays, once for a stroke and once for open heart surgery. What makes things better is when the hospital personnel act human. A few things stuck in my mind:

When my cardiologist ran into my mother in the cafeteria and sat down and ate lunch with her and told her that I was very young to have gone through such a traumatic thing, and that she should be patient with me, because I wasn't going to be the same.

My Cardiac Intensive Care nurse, Dori, who held my hand and was the first to figure out that my morphine drip wasn't working. I was intubated and hallucinating and couldn't convey that I was in pain.

The intern on my case, Eugene, a kid practically. He was one year younger than I, very green, and very honest about it. We had one bad mishap when he had to pull out one of my drainage tubes and it sort of stuck to my insides. He got all choked up that he hurt me. Scott Liles reminds me very much of Eugene.

When my surgery was being scheduled, everything happened very quickly, and I was sort of dazed and didn't ask any questions. The night before the surgery, I was scared and sobbing and in a complete panic over the Foley catheter, of all things. I signed on to America Online, and somehow found my way to a cardiac support chat. The nurse moderating the chat took me into a private room, talked to me for over an hour, and explained everything that was going to happen. Her name was Roz Hulzhiser. I will never forget her kindness that night.

-- Anonymous, June 20, 2000

This happened to me at my local medical centre. Brace yourselves, folks, cos this could be a long one

Back to May '98. I'd taken the flu, and it was turning into full-blown sinusitis. One day I was even more sick than I'd been for the few days before, so the folks dragged my surpassingly sorry ass down to the medical centre. Got a prescription for antibiotics from the doctor, who also took my blood pressure, just routine and the figure came back as something like 170 on 120. So I was ordered back down to the medical centre the following day. Mum took the day off and went down with me.

I should mention, now, that this following day was also the day they were scheduled, at the medical centre, to do some training on emergency procedures. After a couple of preliminary checks, it was decided that I should have an ECG. So I went and told Mum, who was sitting in the waiting area, and then off I went to have the ECG done.

It was while I was in the middle of this that the nurse and I heard this voice come over the PA system shouting "heart attack in treatment room 1" or whatever it was and the next thing we know is the door to the room's being kicked open and in burst the other doctors and nurses. We were startled to see them, and they were startled to see us as well and that was when we realised this was just one of the training exercises and that they hadn't expected the room with the ECG thing to be in use at the time. And just to confirm it, the voice came back saying something like "whoops, sorry, heart attack actually in this other room" And out they all went.

So on went the ECG unbeknownst to me, however, Mum, sitting out in the waiting area, had just about thrown a fit because she thought I actually was having a heart attack. And when she discovered it was just a training exercise, that was when she really got angry at them. Suffice to say that apologies were profusely offered by all and sundryexcept for the doctor who made the mistake in the first place, he seemed to find the episode funnyfor the next few days that we had to go back to the medical centre for more tests, they were all exceedingly nice to us. Probably terrified that we might sue them for incompetence, causing trauma, etc.

So that, at last, is the story of my "heart attack". I'm pleased to say, though, that on any other occasion when I've had to go into the hospital or the medical centre for another check-up, nothing of this order has ever happened again.

-- Anonymous, June 20, 2000

When I was 14, I had the Russian Flu, which turned into pneumonia. I was in the hospital for about a week. They put me on the pediatric floor, which didn't thrill me. My folks were on their annual vacation, and I really wasn't sick enough for them to come home, so I was alone a lot.

The worst part of the experience, apart from feeling dreadfully ill, were the blood gases they took. Frequently. I'm not afraid of needles; I have a congenital blood disorder and am quite accustomed to them. This was different. They took blood from my wrist every other hour or so for the first day, and it hurt like the devil, and my arms were bruised from wrist to elbow.

The lab tech who took most of the blood was wonderful, though. He said how nice it was to come to the pediatric floor to get blood and have a patient who didn't scream (much as I wanted to). He knew my folks were away, and he came back and sat with me after his shift ended. He didn't have to do that, and it helped me a lot.

When my brother was in Sloane Kettering for his final admission, I was very impressed by the nurses. He was dying; we all knew that. They were so solicitous of him and of our parents. They didn't come in the room unless they had too, to give us uninterrupted time with him. They made an extremely difficult experience a little more bearable.

-- Anonymous, June 20, 2000

I've been really lucky.

In the past couple of years, I've had three small surgical procedures. Two were scheduled, one was an emergency admission. On all three occasions, I've found the doctors and nurses to be nothing but patient, kind, and helpful. No mean feat, by the way... I'm not the most docile of patients. (I'm the bad stick of all bad sticks- the only good thing is that I can tell blood techs exactly which vein might work, and if they're any good at all they'll pay attention.)

The only time I had a bad experience was three years ago, sitting in a ER for several hours in the week between Christmas and New Year's. When the (overworked) doctor finally got to see me, he and I both knew I needed a somewhat invasive diagostic procedure... which he was forbidden to administer, owing to budget cutbacks applied during the holiday season. Nope, not kidding. I was lying there leaking tears on the the gurney, while he was almost literally tearing his hair, both of us out of our minds with frustration.

He was sweet, though. It was merely a budgetary problem. I wouldn't give up my Canadian socialised medicine for anything, but there are obviously a few snafus in the system.

-- Anonymous, June 20, 2000

Karen, when my grandfather spent over twenty-four hours in the ER (because there were no rooms available in ICU), he had to be, well, cleaned and changed regularly. Blood was taken what seemed like every five minutes. It was the nurses who made that hellish day tolerable, with their patience and their caring and their comfort. I'm not kidding. It was a nurse who talked to my grandfather for an hour, finally convincing him to take a catheter. It was a nurse who convinced him not to pull it out. We saw the doctor for about three seconds. The nurses actually took CARE of my grandfather -- and of me.

In the ICU, it was the same deal. The nurses were SO compassionate, and SO patient, and SO willing to explain every little thing that was going on. Looking back, I still can't believe how wonderful they were. In my memories of that time, their faces and their smiles are among the only positive images that have stayed with me. Since Gramps died, I've been meaning to write a letter to the hospital expressing my appreciation for the nurses in the ER and the ICU who made that horrible week a little more bearable. I think I'll do that today.

-- Anonymous, June 20, 2000

When I've been in the ER for minor things, it's been pretty frustrating. At 13, I had had a birthmark removed from my right butt-cheek, and a few days later the stitches came open. not knowing what else to do, we went to the emergency room (it wasn't bleeding, but it didnt look too good). Anyway this young male intern got me on my stomach, bared my ass to the world, and then invited a lot of other interns over to have a look. This is not the way to treat 13-year-old girls. utter utter humiliation.

At 7, I had a mysterious illness that required lots of blood tests. ANOTHER intern made the mistake of telling me that "this one won't hurt." Well I'd already had three that did, so I figured this one must be REALLY bad. I had a total fit and he was chasing me around with the damn needle getting mad. Not planning to be a pediatrician, I hope.

I also had the post-car-accident experience of being strapped to a board and left on my back in a hallway for a long time, staring at the ceiling and crying from shock.

However my father has been hospitalised several times for serious things, and usually the nurses are great. Contact and information are key. Most importantly to docs and nurses alike: if you don't know, don't make something up or be evasive. This is obvious and terrifying.

-- Anonymous, June 20, 2000

Have had various experiences in the hospital and emergency room - my most recent being the worst and enough to scare me away from ever going back unless I've chopped off a limb or really really feel like I'm going to die.

Good experiences: emergency room trip with my daughter (age 3 at the time) - the doctor and nurses were nice and talked to us and explained what they needed to do, and talked to *her* too. Very gentle but firm and all in all a good experience. Giving birth - though at first they gave me this attitude of "you aren't in labor" since I wasn't screaming, I got lots of attention when it was determined that I really was and already 6 cent dilated. After birth - things went very well in the hospital for the 2 days I was there - I was an easy patient, no complaints and with a good attitude so I think that helped. Everyone seemed very nice and helpful - overall a very pleasant experience.

Bad experiences: usually involved being in the emergency room and waiting for hours and hours. Triage nurse who did a quick "feel around" which had me screaming, never been treated so roughly before, and then voilently inserting a tylenol suppository without any warning - I must have jumped two feet straight in the air. That was ~most unpleasant~ to say the least. Always seem to finally get in to see a doctor right when shifts are changing so there are be long waits alone in a room feeling forgotten and then having to explain everything all over to the new guy. The nurse assigned to me for my labor and delivery had very long nails and although she was very nice and pleasant to me, every time she did an internal exam I felt like screaming out loud - they should have a rule about long nails and where you can put your hands (and up someone's jumper isn't a place for them - ouch!).

More bad: my husband having broken bones in his foot, being in a lot of pain and having to wait for over 4 hours in the waiting room, finally getting in to get Xrays and then be told that there was no one there who could set his foot since it required surgery so he'd have to make an appointment for the next week to meet with a surgeon ... and then being sent home. He was not a happy camper and in incredible pain for 3 days till we could get him seen by someone (damn the holidays - we always seem to get hurt then).

And my last trip to the hospital - the first time I was ever admitted for being sick (as opposed to having a baby) - they put me in the maternity ward because I was pregnant - a wrong move. Nobody seemed to know what to do with a sick person on that floor. The night nurse wanted nothing to do with changing my IV every two hours, she'd show up usually 30-45 minutes after I paged her ("My IV is empty"), cracking her gum and looking very put out. She insisted on "flushing" my iv every time she changed it for god knows what reason which meant my arm was on fire each time she visited. And three seperate times she set the drip to fast so I went through an entire bag in an hour and had to pee about every 20 minutes. I had to have blood drawn about every 4 hours and the day nurse admitted to me that she was "rusty" and probably should get somebody else to do the job. She did it anyway, botched it, gave me a huge hematoma on my arm and scared the hell out of me. (hurt like hell too.)After about 12 hours in the hospital I was pleading with my husband to take me home, I didn't care how sick I was, they were making me feel worse. I still have a scar from the IV (I complained to them that it hurt, they just taped it down) and it took about two weeks for the bruises from having blood taken all up and down both arms to dissapear. I looked like some junky with all these bruises and needle tracks up and down my arms. The whole experience scared the hell out of me.

Here's hoping the impending birth of child #2 goes as smooth as the first one, for I certainly don't relish the idea of being sick and in the hospital.

-- Anonymous, June 20, 2000

When I was in the hospital to give birth to my son, there was exactly one nurse who kept me from absolutely losing my mind. After the Spider Monkey was born, I was left all alone (my ex husband went home. Yes, home. See why he's an ex??) with him, my episiotomy had torn, several of the veins in my arms had collapsed and I was so bruised it hurt to lift, and I couldn't get my brand new, crying infant out of the basinette next to my bed. I hit the call button time, and time, and time again, and finally, about two hours later, a nurse that had just gotten on shift came in to help me. I was crying, the baby was crying, and she somehow made it all better. She cradled Nick in one arm, patted me with the other, told me she was going to take the baby down to the nursery and ordered me very gently to get some rest. She was firm, efficient and sympathetic, and seemed to actually care that I was her patient. She and she alone got me through that night, and I am to this day, utterly grateful to her.

-- Anonymous, June 20, 2000

For the most part, I like nurses, and I would ten times rather see a qualified nurse practitioner than a too-busy doctor for most illnesses.

But when I was stuck in Los Angeles' leading hospital for five days giving birth to a recalcitrant baby (waiting for Pitocin to kick in), I encountered one harried nurse on the worst night of my life who treated me like a burden and one very chatty nurse who made herself comfortable and expounded for hours on her life and times and career -- without once asking what I did for a living, or anything else about me for that matter. My favorite nurse was the down-to-earth Filipina who finally, and calmly, gave me morphine on the fifth day because there were no rooms available for an epidural.

My recommendation: While it probably is not useful for nurses (and doctors) to get to know most patients in the brief time they deal with them, if they do have the same patient for the better part of the week, and the patient is coherent, it's nice to deal with them as a fellow human being -- with a life outside their patient-hood.

-- Anonymous, June 20, 2000

I've only had 1 bad experience in the hospital.

I'd been moving, and was carrying the top of a glass end table up the hill that led to the parking lot of the apartments I was moving out of. I fell just as I got to the top, and my hand came crashing down on the glass. It didn't even hurt, but my brother said "Don't look at your hand." so I knew it was bad. Of course I looked, and I was covered with blood. Off we went to the ER, where a very kind doctor pulled a 1 1/2" long piece of glass out of my hand, (hold your hand sideways and look at the bottom of your thumb. That's where it was - went straight down) sewed up 2 more not-as-bad cuts on my wrist, and marvelled the whole time that I didn't do any nerve or tendon damage. The cut on my thumb was way too deep to be stitched, so he stuck a rubber tube in there for a drain, told me how to care for it, and sent me on my merry way.

Now for the evil doctor. A couple days later, my drain is oozing goop, and the skin around it is all red and infected looking. I called my doctor, but couldn't get an appointment, so I went to the ER (different hospital than where the nice doc was).

The doctor I got was very short with me. He asked me why I hadn't been taking care of my wound. I told him I had, and that I wasn't surprised it'd gotten infected because (at least for me) nasty cuts like that get infected no matter what I do. He said that the drain tube needed to come out and that the wound needed to be cleaned. I asked him how badly it would hurt. If I have an idea of how much pain is involved, I can usually psyche myself up for it and be a trooper about it. Doc says it shouldn't hurt too badly at all. A very sweet nurse that was holding my hand (shoulda known then this was going to be a 10+ on the pain) looked rather dubious when he said that. Evil Doc yanks my drain out, pours some kind of evil liquid fire into my cut, and starts digging around in there with a Q-tip. After he was done and left the room, the nurse actually told her supervisor that the doctor was a lot rougher than he really needed to be.

Other than that, any other time I've been to the ER, or the couple times I had to stay in the hospital longer than overnight, the doctors and nurses have been wonderful. I'm a real klutz, and spend a lot of time in the ER with twisted and broken bones, so I figure that one bad experience was a fluke, and that most doctors and nurses are nice.

-- Anonymous, June 20, 2000

I've spent way too much time in hospitals, both with me as the patient and when I was there with a friend for one reason or another. The first time I was ever in one, though, I was a senior in high school and my parents were out of town. I had been sick when they left and one thing just spiraled into another until I ended up calling my boyfriend at two in the morning to take me to the hospital. He came and got me, and we went in. By seven a.m. they'd run just about every diagnostic test that I knew existed on me and still had no idea what was wrong. My parents couldn't be reached, and I was very scared, in a lot of pain, and very alone. ((Boyfriend had had to leave because he had to go to school.)) There was one nurse who spent the better part of several hours sitting on my bed with me, stroking my hair, spoon feeding me broth because I couldn't move enough to feed myself, trying to find something on TV, and generally being a nice, wonderful person. I was so drugged out that I never figured out what her name was or anything, but to this day, I think about that nurse and how great she was. Later that night, the boyfriend came back and, in an incredible fit of generousity, the night nurse "overlooked" that he was in my room and let him spend the night with me. At the time, it meant everything in the world to have him with me, so that simple act was one of the nicest things that anyone could do.

As for the evil stuff... The doctor who wouldn't do anything for me until I prayed with him first. I'm not a religous person, and he was very upset that I didn't know the prayer that he was saying. The time that I was kept on an interavenous-liquids-only diet for three days and wasn't allowed to even had a cup of water. The nurse who yelled at me that I wasn't allowed to have visitors and kicked my mommy out of my room.

For more good stuff - The wonderful wonderful ER staff in the city where I was at school. It was a tiny city with a tiny, slightly outdated hospital, but I got better care there than I did anywhere else I've ever been. The nurses let me sleep on the spare bed in a friend's room when he almost went into a diabetic coma and had to stay in the hospital for a week. That whole week, they let us have extra jello and meals and things and let me sleep in the other bed in the room so that he wouldn't have to be alone. The wonderful ER staff who let me use the phone there to call my mom and my best friend so that I could explain it all to them, and then told me that I could give them the phone number to the ER so that they could get back in touch with me until they got me stabilized. The nurse who went to Wendy's on her break and got me a cheeseburger when I something funky going on with my ovaries and I couldn't think of anything but a cheeseburger. The kind old nurse who stayed with me for two hours after her shift was over so that I wouldn't have to be alone while they ran weird scary scans on my head.

More good than bad, definately.

-- Anonymous, June 20, 2000

I have definitely had way more good experiences than bad when it comes to nurses.

I had surgery last year for a severely herniated disk. Before the surgery I had been bedridden, strapped to icepacks, and drugged on every medication I could get my hands on for over two months. Needless to say, I thought the hospital would be easy compared to all that... it wasn't.

Going that 8 hours without drugs on the night/morning before the surgery was pure evil. The good stuff starts as soon as I got to the hospital:

First of all, even the admitting staff realized how much pain I was in and made things go as fast as possible. As soon as I made it down to where I had to register for the actual surgery, they let my parents do all the work while the nurses went to get me ready for surgery. The sooner I was ready, the sooner they could drug me. (I did have one really annoying nurse who did not speak English fluently who gave me a huge bruise with the IV after I tried to tell her that she couldn't IV me in that arm... but she was the only one I had trouble with.)

The anesthesia staff was awesome--that was a shocker. The nurse in post-op was amazing. My nurse practioner was amazing. My nurses on the floor were amazing. One of them even went down to the Wendy's when I told her I was fiending for a diet soda. They were as kind as anyone could possibly be.

Another experience: I was to videotape my friend giving birth to her baby. I ended up really being her coach, since her husband (while nice) is an idiot... and we had an incredible maternity ward nurse throughout the entire night... and without her, I don't think that either my friend or I would have survived that birth;)

As far as I am concerned, it takes a very special person to be a nurse. It has to be one of the hardest, and least appreciated professions in this country, if not in the world. They're over worked and under paid, and have to deal with a lot of shyt from a lot of people. I have the utmost respect for nurses, and the good ones are as close to angels as I can imagine.

-- Anonymous, June 20, 2000

I was in the hospital for day surgery, and was waiting in the hallway, alone on my stretcher, waiting to go into the operating room, and the anesthesiologist came out to talk to me and said "Blah blah blah but it's all in God's hands, really," then stood over me and prayed and I blurted out "Does this mean I don't get any anesthesia?"

He didn't think it was funny.

-- Anonymous, June 21, 2000

Mine is fairly mundane, but was still upsetting. My doctor thought that I may have had an ulcer (I did) - but wanted to rule out any problems with my gall bladder. So - I was sent off for an ultrasound.

When I arrived at the clinic for the ultrasound, I asked the technician if he could please tell me what he was doing as we went along. His reply was a very irritated "No. That would be like asking a mechanic to explain what he was doing while he was changing a tire."

Which makes no sense to me. I would totally expect that a mechanic would be an ideal person to explain how to change a tire.

Anyway - being a pretty healthy person, I've never had ANY kind of medical treatment other than the routine preventative type. I was nervous and, truthfully, a bit scared about the whole ultrasound thing. Here I was, all by myself, in an unfamiliar clinic, naked to the waist in a dark room with a strange man who was pressing the ultrasound equipment down, very hard, onto my ulcer-painful abdomen. And I had NO idea of what was going on. I didn't need a detailed play by play. I knew that the technician wouldn't be making a diagnosis. All I wanted was for him to say "Now I'm looking at your gall bladder, now I'm looking at your left kidney." Anything to keep me from feeling like a frightened piece of meat.

I left the clinic in tears.

-- Anonymous, June 21, 2000