This weekend this saying popped up in my newsfeed on Facebook.
It hit me right in the gut. It made me tear up.
You see, I've heard from several sources the nurse who "cared" for me the day I had Mabrey has said that she was so concerned about me she checked on me more than a typical patient. She was supposedly so concerned that she brought in other staff to see me. She was supposedly so concerned that every time she came in my room the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She supposedly sat in the parking lot praying for me for almost a half hour before she left work that night.
Supposedly.
She told all of this to the CEO of our hospital and when he told me all that I was so mad. Because while maybe she was concerned about me, maybe the hair on her neck really did stand up, maybe she really did pray for me....maybe.... but none of her actions reflected her concern. (Have I mentioned that in our meeting she never said a word to me...never apologized or anything even though every other person there apologized even if they weren't involved in my care!)
If her gut instinct was really going the way she said it was, she didn't act on it. She never called either anesthesia or OB back to check on me. Never documented anything. Not a thing.
Over the weekend a coworker asked me about how I was doing since he knew I've been dealing with anxiety and such and I told him that it's still hard. I had my first nightmare since returning to work a couple nights ago. I have found myself getting anxious at work a few times but so far I've avoided a panic attack at work.
I sat at the desk on the verge of tears the other night as my coworkers talked about trying to convince their husbands to have more babies, knowing I will never carry another little life in my belly. Knowing my husband had the lasting image in his head of seeing me nearly die. It was hard because I so badly wanted to join in telling a funny story about how I'd beg and plead to get another baby...but I can't, and I won't, because I can't ask my husband to relive his worst fear. (I realize that they can use other medications and it most likely won't happen again, but the fear is still there and still very real) I can't ask my kids to worry the whole time about "will mommy hold her breath when she has a baby?!"
And then when I think about this I get mad. I get mad because I think "what if she had listened to that voice?!?" I know the what ifs will drive me insane, and I honestly try not to focus on them. But this one is one that gets me. It honestly makes me angry knowing that she's telling everyone how she cared so much! I honestly believe she has lied to everyone every time she has said that.
I'm still supposed to sit down and talk to her face to face. I have a lot I want to ask her. And I want to hear her version of how the day went. I want to tell her how her negligence has changed my life forever. I want to tell her that I'm mad at her, that I've been mad at her since our first meeting after I left the hospital. I want to know why she ignored her gut feeling, why she didn't get help for me.
And I'm going to thank her, I'm going to thank her because thanks to her, I will never, ever, ever ignore that inner voice. Especially when it comes to patient care.
