My father needed a quadruple bypass this summer, so I flew to Oregon to be with him through the procedure and during his stay at the hospital. He was understandably terrified, and I admit so was I. But the procedure went well, his heart is strong, and he went home after only a few days in hospital. Now it will simply take time for his sternum and the incisions to heal. So far so good.
While I was with him at the Oregon Health and Sciences University Hospital (OHSU) I spent a lot of time exploring the sprawling campus. Seriously, that place is huge! And confusing. Floor 9 is the main floor while my father’s room was on floor 17 of an entirely different tower from the main hospital. It’s built on the side of a hill with incredible views of the city of Portland and the Willamette river. From my dad’s room we sat and watched the sunlight change the colors of snowy Mt. Hood. From a terrace below his room, I could see Mt. St. Helen. I took a hanging trolly down to the water’s edge and then walked to the City center, about two miles. If you have to have major surgery, have it done at OHSU.
I’ve spent way too much time in hospitals in the last ten years, which makes me somewhat of a hospital connoisseur. My daughter has twice been a guest of Lucille Packard/Stanford Medical Hospital. My husband was hospitalized twice at University of California San Francisco (UCSF) for cancer treatment. And recently my daughter was a guest at our local, rural hospital due to pneumonia. I have tasted the food, walked the halls, interacted with staff and doctors, watched the nurses closely, taken in the views, strolled the neighborhood, and fought with insurance companies at some of the best hospitals on the West Coast. And OHSU is the absolute best.
It comes down to staff and communication. OHSU beats all the other hospitals we’ve dealt with in staffing levels and nursing care. Every single nurse was positive, helpful and considerate. Everyone worked hard to maintain a patient’s dignity and to communicate with them to alleviate fears. And if a nurse needed information from the doctor, she got it quickly. No paging the doctor for hours like at UCSF. Plus, the rooms were large and comfy, super clean, and had great views.
The downside to being a hospital connoisseur is the PTSD that hit me every few hours. While sitting beside my father I would suddenly feel the same panic I did when my daughter was hospitalized for metabolic failure. The past and the present would blur until my body didn’t know the difference. My father was resting comfortably, but my heart would pound the same way it had when my husband was groaning in agony. The only cure was walking. I’d pace up and down the halls, outside on the terraces, up and down stairs, walking to town and back… just walking until the panic would subside I could feel the present pushing away the past.
This is old fear. Don’t let it blend in with the new fear. Will my father survive his surgery? Will he heal? Will my husband’s cancer come back? Will my daughter crash again?
shhhhhh… let it go. Keep walking. Keep breathing.
Now that my father’s surgery is over and he is well, I have one more request from the universe: no more trips to the hospital this year! I don’t need to explore new hospitals, or even old ones for that matter. Please keep my loved ones healthy and safe. Keep me healthy and safe. I may be a hospital “pro” now, but it doesn’t mean I want this to become a habit.