It is news to precisely no one that our health care system is in crisis. Yet, when it hits close to home, it is truly shocking to see just how dysfunctional a fundamental institution of our society has become in such short order.
I say short order, but I know those in the profession have been warning of this for some time. Still, the difference between the care my mother got when she left the hospital in October 2019 and what my dad is getting now — well, you’d think we’re living in a different country.
Here’s just one example, when my mom left the hospital, a prescription was sent to the Red Cross for the temporary use of some items to make her transition home smoother — a walker, bed rail, etc.
At home, she was visited by an occupational therapist to ensure she could get around safely. Meanwhile, personal care aids were sent in every morning for the first week to help get her up and going. (Although, she quickly dispensed of that when they started laying out her clothes for the day.)
Just over a week ago, my dad was in ER (for a mere 10.5 hours) because of an infection on his leg. I won’t go into the whole sordid story, but one of the upshots is he needs a wheelchair.
The transition nurse at the hospital said she’d request one from Red Cross, and I may be able pick it up the next day. Two days later, I was told “we’re stuck.” She then sent me a list of vendors, suggesting I find my own wheelchair.
When we asked about home support for my dad, we were told to submit my parents’ notice of assessment. We did the same for my mom, but clearly requirements have changed as we didn’t qualify this time despite their income being the same. Again, we were told to go find our own private home support.
Go to ER to get a five-minute IV clean: Hospital staff
And here’s the latest, my dad requires a home IV set up, which involves having a bag of medication changed daily. My parents can’t do it. I have asked the pharmacy, who we pay to come in daily to administer medication, but they’re not qualified. The private home support we’ve hired are not qualified. And I’ve already taken a week off work to take him to the IV clinic, I can’t take another one.
At the clinic, I asked what will happen if I can’t find anyone to change this bag. Their reply was telling.
Because our health care system doesn’t have the resources to send a nurse over to my parents for 10 minutes a day to change a medication bag, my dad would have to go back down to emergency, clog up the waiting room with a non-emergency, so he could be admitted into the hospital where he’d take up an expensive bed and be seen regularly by specialists he doesn’t need to be seen by for possibly weeks. All so this bag could be changed once a day.
When they told me that, I suggested we just pause for a minute to appreciate the true insanity of this situation. They burst out laughing and shook their heads saying, “you don’t have to tell us.”
I want to stress, through out my various dealings with the hospital and the health care system, I’ve met nothing but fantastic people. They are caring, compassionate and true professionals, but they’re working in an untenable situation. It appears governments have simply ceded primary home health to the private sector.
Right now the provincial governments are squabbling with the federal health minister regarding health care funding. The provinces want more money, the feds want to see a long-term strategy for that money. The situation I just described is not just about money, it’s about where the money is going. But figuring out how to change the flow and create a more integrated system also takes resources.
I want to believe things will change, that public primary care and home health will be given its due. But, right now, I’m left with a truly disheartening sense of abandonment and confusion as I try to negotiate this fractured system.
