Good Doc, Bad Doc
I spent most of today at the hospital. My sister drove me to what I’d thought would be a couple hours of a CT scan-guided liver biopsy. She picked me up at 8 A.M. as I was supposed to be there at 8:30. I wasn’t actually wheeled into the CT scan room until 10 o’clock. The female nurse and two male doctors took turns playing “good doc, bad doc.” One (male) would torture me with needles going into my liver, while the female would hold my hand and breathe into my face while talking. Then the other male took over and began the procedure a second time (with the same nurse doing the “good doc” act). I was chastised when my legs began to involuntarily writhe on the scanning table. I was told that the procedure was done twice because I hadn’t held my breath correctly.
Afterwards, I was told to lie down on my side for one hour (to staunch the bleeding). Then I had lunch and three more hours of “bed rest,” which consisted of trying to read or sleep while the noise level in the recovery room effectively prevented both. I didn’t get out of the hospital until 4 o’clock. I’m not dying of cancer, I’m dying from the hospital treatment. I’m not exaggerating my experiences.
Afterwards, I was told to lie down on my side for one hour (to staunch the bleeding). Then I had lunch and three more hours of “bed rest,” which consisted of trying to read or sleep while the noise level in the recovery room effectively prevented both. I didn’t get out of the hospital until 4 o’clock. I’m not dying of cancer, I’m dying from the hospital treatment. I’m not exaggerating my experiences.