Recently, through a string of tragic events, I was hospitalized three times in as many weeks. The first occurrence was when I had a heart attack and had to have open-heart surgery. A double-bypass was done at a distinguished hospital in North Carolina, a couple towns over from my own. After staying a week there, I was allowed to go home, but soon developed pneumonia in my right lung. This time, I was admitted to a local hospital and stayed five days. Upon release from that hospital I was involved in a near-fatal car shatter. I was air-lifted to a renowned hospital very approach the one that housed me with my heart attack.

Like many Americans I haven’t had insurance in years. I work independently and do not have insurance through a company. I have been unable to afford the insurance premiums in many years even though my health was great. A long time ago I made the decision to cancel the insurance plan I did have in favor of being able to put more food on the table. Like many of those same Americans I always worried what I would do should I ever be really ill or hospitalized. I soon found out!

I reported to a local hospital – the one that kept for the above-stated pneumonia case – when I concept I had severe acid reflux. The receptionist took my information as I looked around at a room full of flu-ridden people, including children. Although I stated to the receptionist that I had no insurance I was taken to a back room immediately. Since I was over 50 and having chest grief I was escorted straight back to be examined. The heart exclaim was discovered, I was given a consultation, then I was instantly aboard an ambulance and flying to a large, more experienced hospital. At no time did I feel like I was treated less than perfectly because of no insurance.

On to the new hospital in the ambulance: I was swiftly transported to a nearby city to a hospital that is famous. At this hospital I was instantly prepped for surgery as several staff members hovered over me. One person was taking my medical history while another inserted IV’s. Someone else was changing me into a gown while another was handing me papers to sign. I was well taken care-of and the surgery went off without a hitch. Although the first surgery didn’t suffice, and a second procedure was done, I was treated well throughout the ordeal. I didn’t start noticing things until a couple of days after the surgery.

The proper medications were brought to me on time around the clock. Shots were given, pills were dispensed and blood was frequently taken and tested. By the third day I was sort of wondering why the room hadn’t been cleaned. I had inadvertently dropped a couple of things from the bedside table and no one had offered to pick them up for me. In addition, I wasn’t offered a bath or given a way to take a shower. I was zigzag up to many wires but even a washbowl bath was not offered to me. My hair was a horrible mess and family was a long ways away. I was alone and feeling pretty disgusting; there was no one to help me with personal hygiene. Eventually I asked a nursing assistant if I could get a shower; she said “Honey, let’s just wait on that for a little while”. The next day I insisted on a shower so I was given a washbowl and washcloth. No one offered to help me, though, so I was unable to do my hair. I was extremely week from the medical ordeal and was getting to the point where I no longer cared about it. The entire week I stayed in the room no bathroom cleaning was done; no one swept, mopped or dusted.

I enjoyed nearly a week at home before being readmitted for pneumonia. This time I was housed at my local hospital. I was given breathing treatments, medications of all sorts, and I actually saw someone advance in and clean a exiguous. Each day she would approach in and sweep, mop, dust and clean the bathroom. The problem with this hospital was that I felt like it took forever to win any assistance. If I asked for some water in my bedside pitcher I could expect to ask again and again. I don’t mean I nagged them because they didn’t come quick enough; I mean they simply didn’t show up, I asked nicely again, and they didn’t show up. I don’t know if they were understaffed or had more essential, “insured” patients to attend. The repeated requests for every little thing went on throughout my four-day conclude.

Upon being released from that hospital I was involved in a near-fatal car wreck. I was cut out of the vehicle and air-lifted to a hospital in close proximity to the hospital I was in for my heart surgery. This hospital is also well-renowned and is so titanic it’s almost a town itself. I must say that the staff was great and treated me pretty but the amenities just weren’t there. During the course of a week I was left to lie in a bed that still had grass and mud in it from my wreck. Although my clothing was cut off of me, and a gown was put on me, no effort was made to shapely me up. I stayed for a week and was not given a bath, a change of sheets, nor was the room ever cleaned. The floors were not swept or mopped and the bathroom was not once cleaned. After several days I requested a clean gown and a wet washcloth and was given those things. The staff was polite and efficient but the room was not taken care of, nor was I, at least hygienically.

I had a nasty injury on my left arm and the would was dressed at intervals throughout the day. This was never overlooked. In addition, it was discovered that I had diabetes, high blood pressure and high cholesterol. These matters were monitored without fail. As far as health care goes I feel I received the same care anyone else would receive – insured or not. However, a few days after the atomize I thought I felt a immense chunk of glass in my head. I asked the nurse to look; she assured me it was a quarter-size would with a scab over it. She suggested I just leave it alone and let it heal; the scab was preventing any further bleeding so the wound would not need stitching. I was released after spending yet another week in the hospital.

I’m still recovering although I’m doing much better. I am home and can shower, brush my teeth and wash my hair whenever I want! Whew! I’m happy about that. After four weeks went by since the car accident I managed to pull the chunk of glass out of my head. It was quite by accident. The scab had gotten smaller and smaller, and one day it was itching, and I was scratching around it. As I bumped it I noticed that it wiggled! I pulled it a little and it came right out. I could feel a hole, the size of a pencil eraser, in my head but it wasn’t bleeding so I left it alone.

I’m very thankful to be alive and to have all that trauma and drama behind me. I never quite determined if the lack of some amenities during my hospital stay was attributed to cutbacks at the hospital or the fact that I had no insurance. When it came to the actual medical care I received, though, I feel like I received the very best care available!