Councillor’s care in emergency room reflects experience of many patients

Wendy Cheropita
Special to The Lake Report

I read with great interest Kevin MacLean’s Nov. 21 commentary on a lengthy visit to the St. Catharines hospital, (“The Waiting Game: Observations from a long night spent in a Niagara hospital emergency room”).

I had two visits (two days in row) to the St. Catharines emergency department in mid-September after I fainted and fell straight back onto my kitchen floor.

Fifteen minutes later I regained consciousness and in shock made my way to bed (it was early on a Thursday morning).

I had a splitting headache, a big gash in the back of my head, was bleeding and in excruciating back pain. I fainted again.

When I finally gained consciousness for the second time we called an ambulance. I had a four-inch gash on the back of my head, there was a pool of blood on the kitchen floor and more on my pillow, and my back pain was 10 out of 10 from the top of my cervical spine to the sacrum.

We called an ambulance.

At the hospital, I was on a stretcher in the hallway with the paramedics for an hour or so.

What I didn’t know was what lay ahead of me. This was my first visit in 10 years. MacLean’s articulation of the process that patients experience was so accurate.

From the hallway, I was transferred to the main waiting room and given a metal wheelchair with no padding.

I waited quietly for five hours and was then transferred to area B2 in the emergency department, only to sit for two more hours as I watched one person after another called into the exam room.

It felt like my spine was collapsing. I was in unbearable pain.

I could not sit there any longer and the number of patients ahead of me could have extended the wait for another seven hours. I left the hospital and decided I would call my doctor the next day.

My doctor was not in his office, so an assistant booked me to see Michelle Goodburn, a nurse practitioner at the Garrison Village medical clinic.

Michelle was the bright light in my health care journey. When she looked at my head, she said I had a four-inch gash and it was very wide. She said that it should have been stitched. After eight hours, it’s too late, though.

She would not let me leave her office and she called the paramedics. Hesitantly, I accepted.

She looked at my report from the hospital visit the night before and remarked that I was not given the care I needed even from the paramedics who were in a hurry to leave me since their shift was over.

She insisted I get a head CT scan and back X-rays. Thank God for Michelle.

This time I waited for 13 hours (including 11.5 hours sitting on a hard surface).

No blood tests were taken, which might have provided some insight as to why I fainted.

I exercise every day, eat healthy and was a perfectly healthy woman before this incident. But the doctor didn’t seem interested in finding out why I fainted in the first place.

I was released on Saturday at 4:30 a.m. after seeing the only doctor for three minutes. He remarked, “You’re good to go home.”

So, I thought I was fine.

The unbearable pain continued. I couldn’t find a comfortable position. Monday afternoon I got a call from Michelle, the nurse practitioner, who delivered the diagnoses.

I was not fine. I had a concussion, a serious anterior wedge fracture in my L1 vertebrae and my heart rate, which is consistently 120 over 80, was spiking at 140 and 147.

The type of fracture I had changes and reshapes the spine. No wonder it felt as though my spine was collapsing. It was.

I lost one inch of height that day alone from the spinal compression.

Making matters worse, I was diagnosed with osteoporosis 14 years ago, with the most serious bone loss in my spine. I should have been advised about the fracture and to limit any movement as even the slightest activity can cause further damage.

All throughout the emergency department, there are posters on all the walls warning there is “Zero tolerance for bullying and harassment.” I certainly agree with that.

What I experienced was a health care system in crisis. It was a traumatizing experience for most of the people waiting just like me.

As well, there were people waiting who come to the emergency room often. They file in with their bag of pharmaceuticals and know exactly how to manipulate the system.

They claim there is pressure on their heart or that they can’t breathe. “That’s how you get in first,” they told me. They were right, they did.

I saw a lot of nurses, but I did not see any compassion or concern for the patients’ well-being at all on either day that I visited the hospital.

The nurses sat behind their computers chatting, flirting and generally ignoring everyone. Maybe that’s what survival mode looks like. I did see a few busy nursing assistants checking blood pressure and vital signs. They were working hard.

When I was leaving the hospital I asked one nurse how do you approach health care in this busy environment. Her answer: “Process. It’s all about process.”

I asked Michelle, who works in a private clinic paid for by our health care system, the same question.

Her answer: “I am patient-centred and outcome-focused. I want to get to the bottom of my patients’ concerns and find solutions to correct the issue.”

I think there are solutions to the health care crisis.

Maybe the issue is not more money thrown at a broken system but an entire reworking of the approach to health care.

More wonderful talented professionals working in community clinics with an approach and compassion like I experienced with Michele would be a good start.

Wendy Cheropita is a Niagara-on-the-Lake town councillor.