Day 44

I'm sitting on a train, heading home to see my parents. More specifically, we are going to the hospital tomorrow for my father's one month, post stroke visit.

I've lived through enough to know that this was another turning point, when Dad had his stroke. We will tell stories now about before Dad had his stroke. We will talk one day about Dad never being the same after his stroke. We've already worried over what we should have done differently when Dad had his stroke. For several weeks prior to his fall, we noticed that he wasn't the same. Something about his facial expression. He seemed slower, less alert. Something just wasn't right. We should have done something then. But we did! Mom made him go to the doctor who said his thyroid was low. He wasn't home when they called so they told me about his thyroid. I knew it was nonsense. I cursed the lazy, overbooked family doctor I saw as a teenager and young adult. But I didn't do anything.

Then he fell. He told us some story about taking his meds without having had breakfast. We gave him some crackers and water and didn't call the ambulance. He told us not to. We knew he was going to fall as soon as we left him by himself, but we still didn't call the ambulance. We waited until he fell again. We learned not to question ourselves, our instincts.

This brings me back to healthcare and how far we still have to go in this country. Living in New York where the best of the best are available if you have enough money (this absolutely includes healthcare), I've forgotten how mediocre the healthcare is in my hometown and probably in most other rural communities. I've had enough hour-long visits with my New York doctor, his door closed, phone muted, to forget what it was like. I've forgotten how frustrating it is when the one person who may be able to help you leaves the room every two minutes of your fifteen minute visit. I've forgotten how scatterbrained the doctor can be when he has three other patients waiting in other rooms. I've forgotten how devastating it is when the doctor is in such a rush that he mixes up your paternal grandmother's diabetes with depression because it's the next disease on the list, then prescribes antidepressants instead of doing his best to find out that you have Crohn's Disease.

There is no reason why a DOCTOR should see a 64 year-old man with high blood pressure who is having trouble walking and is confused and NOT suspect a stroke. Looking back now, it is so obvious. Thyroid medication? A higher does of blood pressure medication? Did he really not suspect a stroke? Did he not think for a second that he should do the simple motor skills tests the doctor used at the hospital to help diagnose my dad's stroke? The simple, free tests that would have cost him only an extra five minutes? Where was his mind? On the insurance checks that would come rolling in after he cycled through the waiting room full of people?

So here I am on the train. I have to fight for my dad because he won't fight for himself. I'm not ready to let him die because the doctor is too busy.