hree hours. Three long hours of performing lifesaving interventions for my patient with sweat pouring down my back, arms trembling, my snood soaked with perspiration. Three hours of us on the resuscitation team struggling to keep the patient alive, waiting for the cardiac team to finally materialize from another emergency: one of us starting an IV line, another administering drugs, a third and fourth trading off chest compressions\u00a0\u2014 all while I worked at airway maintenance, making sure that the intubated man was able to breathe as I manually inflated and deflated a handheld resuscitator.<\/p>\n
Three hours of crouching over the bed, all of us doggedly continuing with sheer stubbornness until the patient was transported. My arms were screaming in pain, I was speckled with blood, and I felt like someone had beaten me with a hammer, but none of that mattered.<\/p>\n
When you\u2019re working in the healthcare system, at a certain point, it doesn\u2019t make a difference who the person in front of you is. It doesn\u2019t make a difference if they\u2019re wearing a yarmulke or not. The point is that they\u2019re a person, and you want to help them.<\/p>\n
And that\u2019s the reality for so many of us in healthcare. We work long, grueling shifts, often under impossible conditions, and every single person is trying their best.<\/p>\n
At least once a week, a Jewish patient beckons to me.<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe you can tell the doctor to pay attention to us,\u201d Mr. Patient says. \u201cI did a CT scan three hours ago, and we\u2019re still waiting for the results!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know you\u2019re frustrated, but they\u2019re doing their best. The hospital wants you to be able to leave as soon as possible,\u201d I answer.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, sure,\u201d he snorts. \u201cWhy can\u2019t I just get the results? What\u2019s wrong with these people?\u201d<\/p>\n
I don\u2019t tell him the patients are stacked six deep in the waiting room and the radiologist is going over the images as quickly as possible.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe people here are doing their best,\u201d I try to reassure the doubter. \u201cNo one\u2019s an anti-Semite. No one\u2019s out to get you.\u201d<\/p>\n
And that\u2019s true, but the system is a nightmare.<\/p>\n
People love to call us \u201chealthcare heroes,\u201d which is a cute moniker that overlooks one important fact: Even the mightiest superheroes trip on their capes sometimes. Even the most neurotic, detail-obsessed healthcare professional will make mistakes. During my orientation, one doctor told us, \u201cYou\u2019re going to make errors. Hopefully, none of them kill anyone.\u201d It was probably the most honest and accurate statement I heard during my years of residency.<\/p>\n
Seen from the inside, US healthcare is a hybrid mess. It is, in large part, a for-profit enterprise (something patients like to forget\u00a0\u2014 or never stop remembering, depending on who they are!). Hospitals operate like corporations, and the people at the top want to make money, just like any executive. This isn\u2019t an unreasonable demand, but the strains on the system make this a difficult task. Some parts of healthcare are heavily subsidized by the government, like Medicaid and Medicare, which pay set amounts for medical expenses. Other parts of healthcare rely on private pay. To make everything profitable, the costs for private-pay patients are hiked up (and up) to cover the care we are legally obligated to provide to everyone else (this is where you\u2019ll see the $25 Band-Aid on your bill).<\/p>\n
And then there are the patients themselves, many of whom are victims of circumstance. Emergency rooms are the place where anyone can be dumped, insured or not. We legally cannot turn them away. It\u2019s the place where elderly patients without family occupy beds for months because the hospital cannot discharge them alone.<\/p>\n
Patients can sometimes be rude, obnoxious, and violent. They refuse medications or machines like CPAP or dialysis, which is their legal right, but when that refusal causes suffering, we\u2019re left trying to put the pieces back together (and spend more money repairing damage that didn\u2019t have to happen). The vast majority of the people on staff are doing the best they can under the worst possible conditions.<\/p>\n
So what does that look like from my side of the floor? Last week, a local politician came to visit our illustrious institution. My night shift was punctuated by the diligent sounds of personnel scrubbing the outside of the vending machines until they gleamed. The floor tiles looked breathtakingly shiny. And in overheated rooms, patients bitterly cursed the quality of the food or writhed in agony when there wasn\u2019t enough morphine to go around. Nurses pirouetted through the halls with their computers to avoid Wi-Fi dead spots.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ve watched a ventilator being wheeled into a patient\u2019s room, knowing that it was the last one in the hospital. I\u2019ve slapped tape over a hole in a ventilator circuit because there were simply no more left. On the beds, contraptions to prevent seizure injuries have been MacGyvered together using blankets and maternity support garments.<\/p>\n
In our hospital, the hackneyed saying, \u201cNecessity is the mother of invention,\u201d plays out in bold, vibrant color\u00a0\u2014 especially in the medication room. When I started working in this hospital, I searched in vain for an excellent medication I\u2019d always used to help break down mucus.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is what we use,\u201d a nurse informed me. It was a medication with the eye-watering stench of rotten eggs, and I recoiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy this? Why not medication X?\u201d I asked my colleague.<\/p>\n
\u201cMedication X is $45 per dose, while this medication is 45 cents per dose,\u201d she answered wearily.<\/p>\n
Of course.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m no longer surprised by the signs from the pharmacy that bloom like toxic flowers on the walls: \u201cX medication no longer available. Substitute with Y.\u201d (Translation: X is too expensive, let\u2019s hope Y works). Sometimes it feels like everything is held together with zip ties and the sheer willpower of people who haven\u2019t had a real lunch break since yesterday.<\/p>\n
Last night, I was holding down the fort on my floor with two other healthcare personnel\u00a0\u2014 one less than the minimum amount of people necessary. I felt like an octopus whose tentacles were being slowly pulled apart. While I was with one patient at a CT scan, my phone rang: \u201cWe have a respiratory distress incoming.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, I\u2019m in CT with a patient. You\u2019re going to have to have the paramedics wait until I\u2019m done.\u201d Even when I\u2019m racing from person to person, rivaling an Olympic sprinter, I can\u2019t be in two places at once. The end of my night shift makes me yearn deeply for someone to just dump me into a shopping cart and wheel me to my car. But the physical exhaustion is manageable compared to the emotional exhaustion.<\/p>\n
Because, while the ER might look \u201cquiet\u201d to someone waiting for ten hours to be checked in, behind the triage door we can be dealing with terrible, time-consuming things, scenes that are going to scar us forever. Tragic car accidents. Shooting victims. Avoidable deaths. Screaming family members. The numbness of shock and grief and the ruin of a young adult with his or her whole life ahead of them\u2026 and now, nothing. I always find it particularly painful to see a life on the cusp of adulthood cut short, so much possibility unrealized, and nothing left behind except a grieving family with nothing to hold on to from their loved one. It\u2019s hard to process.<\/p>\n
This is what I feel\u00a0\u2014 and I\u2019m middle-aged, extremely experienced, and I\u2019ve been smacked around by life enough that I don\u2019t get easily flustered. But I\u2019ve become the dinosaur in my department, an ancient relic of the past, surrounded by staff who are all young enough to be my sons and daughters (literally). Nurses who\u2019ve barely learned how to chart are already doing the night shift. Their medical muscle memory hasn\u2019t kicked in yet, but they\u2019re being asked to care for seven, eight, or ten patients at once. They can safely care for four, maybe six, but more? Foley bags overflow, IV fluids run dry, and pain meds are delayed\u00a0\u2014 not because the nurse doesn\u2019t care, but because the nurse is drowning.<\/p>\n
When you\u2019re talking about someone in their twenties and this is their first or second job, why would they want to continue the insanity? It\u2019s not a surprise that the medical world is hemorrhaging floor nurses. I see nurses breaking down and weeping because, being so worn and tired, they\u2019ve made a mistake with potentially life-altering consequences. I\u2019ve seen them lash out, shut down, or engage in risky behaviors as they try to cope with an impossible system where \u201cdo more with less (staff)\u201d is the mantra recited by executives who have never crossed the threshold of a patient care area.<\/p>\n
One of my friends, a first-year nurse, was fired for a medical error. She had nine patients instead of five, two with the same last name, hadn\u2019t gone to the bathroom since 9 a.m., and was surviving on caffeine and jelly beans. When the inevitable error happened, I couldn\u2019t even say it was her fault. If she hadn\u2019t made that mistake, another nurse would have. The system failed, and mistakes like hers don\u2019t belong to individuals; they belong to a disastrous structure that takes dangerous situations from \u201cmaybe\u201d to \u201cwhen.\u201d<\/p>\n
But one of the hardest parts of the job? The utterly clueless public.<\/p>\n
Picture the scene: I\u2019m leaving the triage room after a complicated delivery, blood splattering my ankles, when a young man blocks my mad dash for crucial supplies.<\/p>\n
\u201cExcuse me, my mother needs a drink of water.\u201d<\/p>\n
And maybe she does, but I can\u2019t give it to her right now, even though I wish I could. You\u2019re standing there, arms crossed, tapping your foot, acting like we\u2019re deliberately making you wait. Maybe you\u2019re screaming (or worse). But I want you to know this: We haven\u2019t eaten, we haven\u2019t used the bathroom, and we\u2019re physically and mentally at our absolute limit.<\/p>\n
I had one frum man come in with his uncle for a painful sprain.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen will my uncle\u2019s results come back?\u201d he asked me.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d I answered. \u201cIt depends. There\u2019s a lot going on. When the results come in, someone will tell you as soon as possible.\u201d<\/p>\n
He bent down, his beard inches from the brim of my snood, and whispered, \u201cTell me the truth. You know what\u2019s going on here since October 7. They\u2019re all anti-Semitic, aren\u2019t they?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve been working here since October 7, and I\u2019ve seen nothing but kindness and compassion,\u201d I told him firmly. I\u2019m not denying that anti-Semitism exists, but in the day-to-day care of our patients, I don\u2019t see it. He glared at me and started yelling.<\/p>\n
I wanted to tell him\u00a0\u2014 and other frum patients like him\u00a0\u2014 that everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt. As the only frum person in my workplace, I\u2019ve seen a lot, and there is not a single person here who works on a hospital floor\u00a0\u2014 nurse, tech, medic, or doctor\u00a0\u2014 who isn\u2019t deeply committed to caring for people. So please, stop assuming they\u2019re making you wait on purpose. I can assure you they\u2019re not (and if you\u2019re being a nudge, they\u2019d love to tell you to leave).<\/p>\n
What should you, the patient, do? Show kindness and gratitude. Give an exhausted nurse a smile, treat an orderly like a real person, bring a card or gift or snack to the front desk for the overworked medical staff. A simple \u201cthank-you\u201d is also appreciated (especially since those are pretty rare).<\/p>\n
A few nights ago, a Jewish man showed up with a beautiful card and gift basket for the nurse who had cared for his wife. Everyone paused, and then we applauded. That nurse will now treat that patient (if she comes in again) and the next lady who shows up in a snood with extra care. Gratitude doesn\u2019t just help one person. It benefits all of us.<\/p>\n
Ethical healthcare would provide enough staff so people can eat, go to the bathroom, breathe, and call in sick without fear. It would provide a cushion so mistakes don\u2019t become disasters. That\u2019s what it should be. That\u2019s what it rarely is. So be patient. Let us do our jobs without screaming at us. The reality is often dark and grim, but you can be the bright spot on our shift.<\/p>\n
We work with a veneer of shiny hallways hiding real suffering. We\u2019re stressed and we\u2019re human. We\u2019re doing our best to keep things running on shoestrings and hope.<\/p>\n
Believe me, we\u2019re here because we care, and we\u2019ll do whatever we can to keep hearts beating\u2026 even if it means trying to save a life for three hours straight. But please, don\u2019t make our hearts break more than they already do.<\/p>\n
The best\u2026 <\/p>\n
food to offer medical staff? Not doughnuts (those are a dime a dozen). Bring in a classic Jewish food, like a pan of potato kugel or fresh rugelach from a nearby bakery, something the staff can\u2019t easily get for themselves. They love it!<\/p>\n
Don\u2019t ask me\u2026<\/p>\n
\u201cWas he Jewish?\u201d when I\u2019m talking about a patient. After working in this field for decades, it\u2019s a question I\u2019ve come to hate. This is a field where you hope your healthcare provider has compassion for everyone.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s important\u2026
to see beyond your specific issue when you come to the hospital. We understand that you\u2019re overwhelmed, scared, and maybe in pain. But often, so are we. We both need to work together to make things work. Let the Jewish patients be the ones my colleagues look forward to.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 982)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"hree hours. Three long hours of performing lifesaving interventions for my patient with sweat pouring down my back,…\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":289549,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[34],"tags":[134,527,111,139,69],"class_list":{"0":"post-289548","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-healthcare","8":"tag-health","9":"tag-healthcare","10":"tag-new-zealand","11":"tag-newzealand","12":"tag-nz"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/nz\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/289548","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/nz\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/nz\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/nz\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/nz\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=289548"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/nz\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/289548\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/nz\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/289549"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/nz\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=289548"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/nz\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=289548"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/nz\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=289548"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}