The Patient of 152B

Dear readers, it’s been a while since I’ve shared anything with you.

Sorry for that but, I’ve been feeling weak for some time and all of us know that when we’re weak, we’re weak.  Everything in our lives becomes a colossal task.NYUWork-009

via morguefile

Which by the way got me admitted on Monday for an IVGG treatment.

When I’m in the hospital I feel vulnerable, and a bit lost to tell you the truth.  It’s nice when I hear a resident call me by my name, instead of the patient in 152B.

Most of the nurses who work here don’t really know much of Myasthenia, never mind pronounce it.  Yesterday I had the opportunity of having a young nurse who actually came around and talked to me about MG.

As she was giving me meds and changing my infusion lines, she told me she had never had a patient with MG, and as soon as she got home she was planning on getting information about the disease.

I told her that she was more than welcome to ask me anything she wanted to know.

We had both a nice and educational back and forth for a while, it felt good that she was interested enough to ask.  Awareness is an important thing for MG, few people understand what this is all about.  I thought about the hashtag #HaveYouHeardofMG that has been going around lately as we spoke amicably.

I face so many unknowns after those two bracelets are fixed on my wrist.  One with my name and information and the other orange label that warns nurses and medical personnel that I am at risk of falling.

Thoughts of how things will turn out this time around feed my fears and jitters take residence in my tummy.  Never mind if the people who love me the most in this world try to reassure me it’s going to be okay, it’s never okay.  Although, I do appreciate their love, and the strength they give me along the way.

In a world where patients are treated with dignity and respect as human beings and not numbers or otherwise maybe these fears would be less, but sadly we don’t have this type of healthcare system.  The system that prevails is one where our family can’t leave us alone for a moment under the care of nurses and medical personnel due to crippling fear that we will be neglected and put at risk.

Testament of this would be my daughter running to fetch my tray because they forget to bring it in because I’m in preventive isolation and my food tray is the last to be delivered in the hall.

So, my dear friends today is not a good day for me, however I know and believe tomorrow will be better.  If I loose the ability to believe in this I have lost one of the most important battles we deal with every day and that is never to loose hope.

See you around the corner.