Covid-19: The Hospital – Page 4

Sunday, July 18

I shower early and well. My last chance to get out of this hell is on Monday. I have to make it through today. I know Daniel is working hard to get me out. They gave me exactly enough large-size hospital gowns from Salon Bolio to last until Monday. That is a good sign. I have had x-rays. I have had an examination for bacteria. I know I do not have an infection because I feel fine physically. I still have tremors from the COVID alert night. Now that I am not sleeping under a sheet all night and am getting more oxygen, I see my levels bouncing back. All of these are good signs. Most of all, I am not scared of anything this program sends my way.

I stay calm all day. I can remain relaxed enough to throw my soap wrapper away.

The entire day, I ignore the men having virtual sex behind the partition. I do not take my medicines. I do not want to be given anything to knock me out. I eat the food after I inspect it, of course.

The doctor comes in with a nurse and says he has to do an arterial blood draw. I knew this was coming and was prepared. However, the doctor is nervous (he is sweating) and cannot do it. The nurse takes over and does it, and it does not hurt like the first time. I stayed calm throughout the whole procedure.

The doctor returns in the afternoon and says he must do an arterial blood draw. I reminded him that he already did it earlier in the day.

He says no, he did not.

He frowns.

I point out the small bandages on both wrists.

He begins the procedure anyway but cannot do this again; he is too nervous about finding the correct spot on my wrists.

The nurse has to take over.

I wonder what is wrong with him.

9:00 pm: The men are all asleep early. They did not even have any energy to bully me on this day. I see Luis in the hallway as he is finishing his shift, but he tells the receptionist that he can stay longer. This is unusual, but I know he is doing it because he worries about what will happen tonight. I make sure my bed area is clean, that I am clean, and that my little bag of toiletries is ready. I also have a box of compression wraps that I received in Salon Tara. I had hidden a foil pill wrapper from some medication I was given in the box. Everything is sitting prepared on my chair next to my bed. I am ready to stay awake all night so nothing happens to ruin the chance to be released on Monday.

10:30 pm.

I feel I must take unexpected action. I might surprise the program because I was supposed to have taken medicine, I was supposed to be scared under the bed sheets, I was supposed to be submissive, following all of the directions, and I was supposed to be asleep.

I cannot just sit passively and let them think they will win. I get up from my bed and walk to the sliding doors, demanding to talk to my son.

You should have seen the look on the receptionist’s and the nurses’ faces! I walked out the sliding doors and down the hall to the elevators. They did not know what the hell to do. I said I wanted to go home, and I wanted to go now. I demanded the personal release form that I know is my right. I declared that I was in good health, not coughing, and strong. I said, just look at me. I have been sitting here calm all day and have had enough!

I want to talk to the doctor, and I want my personal release form. Now!

The receptionist ran back to her desk to call someone for help.

The three nurses (little Ticas) tried to grab my arms and drag me back to the room, but I went limp, and they lost their grip. I was stronger than them, and they obviously had no training to take someone down. Remember, I faked being weaker than I was, so they do not know how strong I am. I shouted that I would not move until I talked to the doctor.

The receptionist called the doctor, and he arrived. Dr. Leonardo tried to confuse me by asking if I knew what time and day it was. I laughed in his face. I said, ¨Look, doctor, I am calm and rational. I have just as much education as you do. I know it is almost 11:00 pm on Sunday, July 18^th. You said you lacked space in this hospital, so why are you keeping me here? I should be home so that you have room for a sicker person. I know I have the right to sign a personal release form so I can go home. I want it, and I want it now.¨ I said all this, standing straight and strong and looking him dead in the eye.

He looked disgusted and left – he said he would look into the personal release form in parting. Next, two male attendants looking like security personnel walked up. Again, I knew everything was fake in this scene. I was correct; one of the men was a doctor and the other two were attendants. He used persuasive talking skills to talk me down; I let him because I had made my point. He had me return to the reception area, and he got on the desk laptop (who knew!) and placed a video call to Daniel so I could talk to him. It was 11:22 pm.

During the call, the nurses were in the background, talking about getting a straitjacket. One of the nurses even had a set of keys and locks in her pocket. As I finished my call with Daniel, two nurses were putting together some medicine for me. I walked back to my bed with assurances that I would be able to be released in the morning. One nurse handed me a small cup with a syrupy liquid and a pink and white capsule. I asked her what it was – she said it was to help me sleep. I did not argue. I placed the capsule under my tongue and pretended to sip the liquid as I walked back to bed. When I reached my bed, I spit the capsule out into my cup of water, and I also poured the small cup of syrup in. Whatever the capsule was, it made my tongue numb.

Tonight there was no medicine, no clicks, or beeps. The other patients had not woken during all the noise I made in the hallway. I had the very distinct feeling that the program was ending. I slept the first good sleep in a long time.

Daniel´s Notes:LawyerSB:

7/18/21, 11:30 PM -D: <Media omitted>

Monday, July 19

The morning nurses come in and clean the room. In fact, on this day, there is a team of attendants cleaning the room from top to bottom. They are cleaning the walls with mops and bleach. I get the sense that something is coming to a close.

I do not talk or look at the other patients. I focus all my energy on staying positive and calm. I made sure to throw the water cups with the medicine from the night before away.

The morning melodic chime begins. The reception area is unusually quiet.

I make sure I am clean and ready for what will happen.

What happens next is surprising, but I was ready for anything. The doctor comes and says he has to do an arterial blood draw. I say ok. I put out my wrists. His hands are shaking, and he has sweat on his face. He sticks me with the needle in the left wrist but cannot find the correct location. He pierced me with the needle in my right wrist three times. The third time he digs the needle around, I feel faint. But I hold onto the tray table and refuse to faint. I know if I faint, my chance today to be released will evaporate. He gives up, and the nurse takes over to do my wrists. I now have two punctures, a cut on my right wrist, and three punctures on my left.

This is no hallucination.

The first patient released is the Argentinian. The nurses congratulate him on the wealth he will collect from me. He is given a bag of his clothes, and the female attendant wheels him out in a wheelchair.

Torino’s cousin is next to go after lunch. He is told that all charges against him are dropped and they deposited money into his account.

Then nurses come in for Domingo and announce that the criminal charges against him were dropped, and he can be released to go home.

It is 3:30 pm. I am still sitting on the edge of my bed. I keep thinking positively. I picture my house and chickens. I think of my spirit animals.

The end-of-day countdown chime begins early.

I sit and listen to it. Alone in Salon Bolio. For two hours.

Finally, as the chime slows, a female attendant arrives with a wheelchair. There is no one to see me off or say goodbye. All the other nurses and staff are gone; it feels like this entire floor was emptied and closed down.

I feel like holding my breath. Am I being released, or will I be placed in another room?

The attendant takes me into the elevator, and we go down to the ground floor; then we go through the maze of the hospital and down a hall where I see Maria. I am so happy I almost jump out of the chair. I am shaking. I want to cry. Maria hands me a bag of clothes, and we go to a changing room where I strip off the dirty hospital gown and hurriedly put on the clothes and shoes.

The attendant wheels me to the hospital entry area. I am holding my breath even though I need to breathe through my mask. I must wait in the wheelchair with the female attendant while Maria finds Carlos and the car. I sit in concentration. I will not be safe until I am through that hospital exit. That is all I think about. I hold back the urge to dash out the hospital door.

Finally, Maria signals that the car is there; at the same time, I see Daniel outside the door; they had said he could not come inside the hospital! I struggle out of the wheelchair and almost run to the car. I breakdown in absolute relief; I made it. I got out alive.

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7/19/21, 7:14 AM – D: Good morning Maria, I hope you are well. The doctor called me last night and said that Renee can be discharged today. Renee has to sign some papers and I have to talk to the doctor. I think today it is possible to go to the hospital and pick up Renee. Is it okay to ask if you and Mr. Carlos are available to go to the hospital today? I’m still working on the details, but wanted to ask. Renee wanted me to ask you.

7/19/21, 9:37 AM – Maria: Yes of course at what time?

7/19/21, 9:39 AM – Maria: I ask you. You have to bring oxygen. To bring it?

7/19/21, 9:51 AM – D: I don’t know the time. The nurse this morning says to call after 2:00 pm. Renee no longer needs oxygen. I spoke to her last night and her breathing is good on its own.

She doesn’t have the bacteria.

7/19/21, 9:54 AM – D: The specific issue right now is that Renee has requested the release because she is 100% healthy. The hospital says they need a notary to translate the document into English for Renee to sign before she can leave. As you know, this takes time, so we don’t know any more information until 2:00 pm, please talk to the doctor.

7/19/21, 9:55 AM – Maria: Very good news, Carlos is in San Miguel but he comes at noon.

7/19/21, 9:55 AM – D: Ok, thank you very much Maria👍🏼

7/19/21, 9:56 AM – Maria: You have to think it through, with the oxygen thing.

Let me know

7/19/21, 9:57 AM – D: Yes of course

7/19/21, 11:30 AM – Maria: I inform you that you do not have to pay anything for your mother’s hospital, because she is a resident and pays the insurance.

7/19/21, 11:33 AM – D: Okay great. The hospital will call you shortly with information about Rene. I couldn’t translate. Sorry for the inconveniences.

7/19/21, 11:58 AM – Maria: Hi Daniel. They already called me and explained to me what happens The Social Security fund has to be taken care of when discharge (discharge of a patient) It has to be in good condition Renee does not go out today The doctors are concerned about her condition .He explained to you for the insurance is very expensive and they need beds for more new patients. But such is the state of having that they don’t want her to go out.I explained to my name that you have oxygen and a lot of experience in using it.I advise you not to press for his departure and it does not sound good to be saying here, listen to the lawyer, in this country we have plenty of will to help.You must be patient. She is medically in very good hands.For me it is not a bother with pleasure and I wish all the best to have. Remember that I am a pharmacy doctor and I understand what is happening.

7/19/21, 12:00 PM – Maria: Correct take by Renee.

7/19/21, 3:12 PM – Maria: Hi Daniel. They just called me from 430pm onwards.

7/19/21, 3:25 PM – D: Okay, what time should I meet at your house?

7/19/21, 4:04 PM – D: Ready

Daniel’s notes:Lawyer SB:

7/19/21, 7:09 AM – D: Good morning SB,

I wanted to ask you when you are available to call Dr Polomo this morning? If we can try and speak with him before 1:30pm, I think it is best. The night doctor told me they do hospital releases 7-3pm. Considering my mother is ready now, I would like to get her home today. Thank you for your help.

7/19/21, 7:44 AM – LawyerSB: Hi Daniel, my morning is booked 😦

7/19/21, 7:51 AM – D: Ok, thank you.

7/19/21, 10:00 AM – D: My friend, I will make the call to the Dr at 1:30pm today if you are available then.

7/19/21, 1:55 PM – D: <Media omitted>

7/19/21, 2:15 PM – LawyerSB: <Media omitted>

7/19/21, 2:21 PM – D: Thank you, sure thing!

Our address:XXXXXXXX

7/19/21, 2:23 PM – LawyerSB: thank you!

7/19/21, 2:28 PM – D: 👍🏼

I remember crowds outside the hospital lined up to get the vaccine—everyone in masks. I did not know what to expect to see because, in the hospital, the experience was so creepy, mean, and scary. Outside just seemed chaotic, nothing like what I remembered before.

When I got home, I asked Daniel for paper and a pen to write down what had happened to me. I told him everything, and he just sat and listened. I drew diagrams and wrote down everything. The writing was challenging, and my writing was shaky because I still had tremors.

When I finished, it was 2:00 am. Daniel had gotten a member of Maria´s family to help rent an oxygen machine. I showered, attached the cannula, turned on the device, and fell asleep.

So glad to be home.

Category: Covid-19: The Hospital

The Hospital: Day Twenty-One

The Hospital: Day Twenty-Two