The huge, unbending and powerful tree is a Goliath medical center. The jelly is us, our less than slingshot sized strength, our emergency room experience.
Try to nail jelly to a tree.
Try to meet Goliath on a fair and level field. Speak quietly. Be totally honest. Be completely open. Express your truth without hesitation. Share your careful notes. Speak quietly— trusting that you are being heard.
That ooze slip sliding off the tree has little chance of finding traction.
Imagine yourself in an emergency room, caring for a loved one in great pain, frightened and insecure. Try to imagine that you trust in the oath that protects from harm. Try to imagine that you actually expect medical help. Try to imagine that personnel recording the ER visit are careful, vigilant and accurate. Normal expectations, right? Why we visit the ER is cases of extreme need, right?
I have a few words of advice. Give up imagining. Become annoying and insistent. Be vigilant, watching, listening, double/triple checking on the ER personnel so that your concerns are accurately recorded. Demand to see each entry in the ER record.
This isn’t the time or the place to list and lament our details. Maybe that time will come later. Maybe never.
For now, this moment of extreme frustration and utter disappointment, my rant is clear. Should you need ER care, make very certain that you see the notes as entered into the computer. Check the facts that each member of the ER team enters. Insist. Demand. If needed, amend and clarify. Be aware that the first entry by ER personnel is what every subsequent ER person sees before she/he sees the patient.
Why would any ER see sharing the notes as a problem? Why would it be necessary to deny the patient access to the computer files? For our situation, I am asking these questions too late. For you, Gentle Reader, the questions might save another attempt to nail jelly to a tree.