“The hospital,” George Orwell wrote, “is the antechamber to the tomb.” Orwell knew whereof he spoke. For much of his life he was in and out of hospitals because of serious health issues. For decades, he suffered from tuberculosis, but his first time in a hospital was in Spain during the Civil War in the late 1930s. He was wounded in battle by a sniper’s bullet.
Born Eric Blair and the author of Homage to Catalonia, Down and Out in Paris and London, Animal Farm and Nineteen Eighty-Four, Orwell died in University College Hospital in London on 21 January 1950. He was 46. The cause of death: a pulmonary artery rupture due to complications of TB.
I’m still alive and 84, but I have often agreed that a hospital is the antechamber to the tomb. I was recently admitted to St. Mary’s Hospital in San Francisco because I was dizzy and had shortness of breath. I have heart issues and have been monitored closely by a cardiologist for decades. I take meds.
If I had to do it all over again I would not have gone into St. Mary’s. I would have toughed it out at home. Or gone to a Sutter Hospital where I think I would have received better treatment. True, I had a private room at St. Mary’s, but for four days I was roused at all hours of the night by nurses who took my blood pressure and samples of my blood for testing. They seemed to think they had the right to poke and pinch. I felt like a guinea pig in an experiment to see how much abuse a patient could endure. The food was awful and the noise loud and disorienting.
Day after day I begged to be released. I also suggested that the cardiologists at St. Mary’s contact my own cardiologist and hear his suggestions. I trust him. I didn’t trust the cardiologists at St. Mary’s. Four of them looked after me in a superficial way. They couldn’t agree with one another and they never gave me a diagnosis.
After four days they agreed to release me if I wore a defibrillator which would send an electric current to my heart if and when it stopped beating. I accepted the offer. It took two days for my health plan to approve of the “life vest” as it’s called and more time for the case manager at St. Mary’s to provide her stamp of approval.
Once a technician brought the vest and showed me how it works and how to put it on and take it off, it seemed to take forever to get to the first floor in a wheelchair. But finally I got into a Lyft and returned home. The other day someone from St. Mary’s called, and asked for my evaluation of my time there. I said, “The hospital needs improvement.”
The best thing about St. Mary’s was the view from the window in my room on the eighth-floor. I liked the chaplain who visited and the occupational therapist who helped me bathe and shave. She called the hospital “a bureaucracy.” I also liked the Black nurse from Georgia named Georgia who made me laugh. My advice: think twice or more before you enter a hospital. To be decommissioned might take days. Hospitals can be antechambers to the grave.
I love this article having been in a hospital recently myself. Read it and believe it: it is a very accurate description of what happens.
Thank you Jane
Thank you for writing this. The hospital is never fun. Glad you survived it!
Compared to this?
“Donna Adelson Says Jail Has Been Traumatic for Her”
https://youtu.be/KBfzLg2ymkA?feature=shared
I’d like to offer a counter-point based on my recent experience at the Adventist hospital in Ukiah. I had major surgery in October than required a 5 day hospital stay. Everyone, from the kind lady that checked me in and banded me, the pre-op surgical staff, my fine surgeon, the kind anesthesiologist, the OR nurses, and the nursing staff that cared for me post op, treated me with care and compassion. Yes, I was woken up every few hours to check my vitals. Yes, there was noise on the hallway from other patients. The big but here is that the first was absolutely necessary and the later falls under the heading of “Really, What Do You Expect?” I came out of surgery in “guarded” condition, a state that requires constant care and monitoring. Wake me up, take my vitals, rinse and repeat. As far as the noise goes, a hospital is a place where there are sick, confused people in pain. They will not be on their best fine resort behavior.
Nurses are the backbone of any hospital. Without exception every member of nursing staff I interacted with really loved working there, and it showed. I felt a deep connection with many of them.
I think the big difference between my experience and what a big city hospital might offer is scale and size. In this case, smaller is most certainly better.
Thank God your are back with US, Bob, and I hope your surgery was a success.
Sounds physically and spiritually unpleasant, and mentally exasperating. I’m glad you are out of there, and I look forward to your next piece of writing, Jonah.