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olorielMuch as I hate when my 6th or 7th graders behave like preschoolers, I hate it even more when fully-fledged grown-ups do it. Even when they're reaching an age when, supposedly, they begin to enter a second childhood.
The mother-in-law is in hospital again. Yesterday morning, she had a strange tingling sensation in one leg, paired with the feeling that the leg was lame and wouldn't carry her, which lasted for about an hour. She found that alarming, as well you might, so she called her neurologist and described what had happened. The neurologist also thought it sounded alarming, so he told her to come to his practice so he could take a closer look; he'd squeeze her in somehow.
So she came over (I'm on sick leave) and asked if I could drive her there, since she shouldn't be driving after her leg had behaved so strangely. Up to this point, this is all very reasonable and good.
Then we sat in the neurologist's waiting room. There was another friendly old lady sitting there, waiting for her appointment. So it was clear that the MIL might have to wait a bit. I had my own doctor's appointment two hours later, but I figured that if it took too long, I'd just have to leave the MIL here and come back to pick her up later. I mean, it's a waiting room. There's reasonably cushioned chairs, something to read, a water dispenser and a restroom. It's warm, too. Nobody likes waiting rooms, but there's definitely more boring and less comfortable places to hang around in. But somehow that idea seemed to stress her out terribly.
"I hate waiting," she complained. "I thought he'd take a look straight away."
"He's going to squeeze you in," I reminded her, "you can't expect him to cancel his previous appointments."
Long story short, the doc managed to take a look just in time so we could make it back to [home town] for my doctor's appointment. Neurologist still found the situation alarming after taking a closer look. He said that it might be a minor stroke or possibly the onset of a major stroke, so he sent the MIL to hospital for more tests and medical observation. So after my appointment, she packed some things and I dropped her off at the hospital. So far, so good. The MIL was understandably agitated about the fact that she might have suffered a minor stroke or that a "real" stroke might be approaching, so I tried to console her that it was 100% better to notice it at this point and go to hospital pre-emptively, as opposed to it happening unobserved, possibly at night, with us finding her ten hours later or something.
Then she was in hospital, and she later called us, full of complaints. The hospital was overcrowded, as badly funded hospitals occasionally tend to be, particularly in winter, so she'd been put in a room with two(!) other women and one of them was coughing all the time. Possibly because she was sick and had been hospitalised for that reason? But the MIL treated it as if she'd been put in a room with a coughing woman as a personal offense. How was she supposed to get rest? It was so annoying! She would come home from hospital sicker than before!
(As a side note, I absolutely get how constant coughing is annoying. It sets my teeth on edge, too. Somewhat ironically, the mother-in-law is prone to nervous coughs and will cough all the way through an evening's movie unless you tell her three times to take her meds or just plain drink something because she doesn't want to get up and/or doesn't want to need to pee at night. So she's a major offender, without the excuse of whatever illness that other woman had.)
And she's been paying for the private insurance upgrade that pays for a single room*! She complained to the nurses (within the hearing of the coughing woman, I have no doubt) until they put her into a different room. But there were no single rooms. They'd already been forced to turn all the single rooms into double rooms because people get sick in winter - I mean, they get sick all the time, but they get especially sick when they spend all their time in over-heated, badly ventilated rooms with other people, not counting all the people who happen to injure themselves during season-related activites such as Slipping On Ice, Cutting Your Leg Rather Than The Christmas Tree, or Burning Your Hand On A Candle. It's a busy time. Anyway, the only room with only one person in it was apparently in the observation unit, but alas! that one person happened to be a man. Gasp!
"Conditions like in ancient Rome!" the MIL complained.
When Jörg visited her in the evening, she was still worked up about the coughing woman. By that time, she had been in a different room for several hours, but she still hadn't gotten over how she! had been expected to share! a room! with two other people! one of whom coughs! all the time! She didn't even remember what tests they've done and what results she'd been told because she was so offended about the coughing woman.
And then she complained, "And now they're all judging me just because I spoke up."
Yeah, MIL, you know what? I'm judging you, too.
It's not about the annoyance. I absolutely understand getting annoyed. I get annoyed easily. I get annoyed by silly things, too. I may even vent about them. Privately. To my husband or my mum. Or maybe on my blog.
You know what I don't understand? Whining to already overworked nurses about things they can't change. These people work 24 hour shifts around people who cough (and worse) and complain all the damned time. What are they expected to do? Throttle the coughing woman? Kick out other patients so you can have that single room you crave? They're already doing what they can. They've already accomodated you by giving you a different room. And you're still whining? Of course they're judging you. You're making their already stressful day more stressful - and you're doing it unnecessarly. An emergency patient can't help having to be rushed in on top of a full schedule. They know that that kind of thing can happen. But the MIL is not (currently) an emergency patient.
Like. I don't think "She should be grateful that she's being treated at all" is a good attitude, but I can definitely see where it comes from.
Incidentally, my doc said I shouldn't be talking at all. Instead, I got to reply to questions and complaints from the MIL all day. (Also from my kids, but in their case, I see why they don't quite understand that mum doesn't answer their usual barrage of questions.) Yeah, that worked well.
And now I'm feeling like a bad entitled age-ist bitch for ranting about this on my journal.
- - -
* if available. "If" being the key word.
The mother-in-law is in hospital again. Yesterday morning, she had a strange tingling sensation in one leg, paired with the feeling that the leg was lame and wouldn't carry her, which lasted for about an hour. She found that alarming, as well you might, so she called her neurologist and described what had happened. The neurologist also thought it sounded alarming, so he told her to come to his practice so he could take a closer look; he'd squeeze her in somehow.
So she came over (I'm on sick leave) and asked if I could drive her there, since she shouldn't be driving after her leg had behaved so strangely. Up to this point, this is all very reasonable and good.
Then we sat in the neurologist's waiting room. There was another friendly old lady sitting there, waiting for her appointment. So it was clear that the MIL might have to wait a bit. I had my own doctor's appointment two hours later, but I figured that if it took too long, I'd just have to leave the MIL here and come back to pick her up later. I mean, it's a waiting room. There's reasonably cushioned chairs, something to read, a water dispenser and a restroom. It's warm, too. Nobody likes waiting rooms, but there's definitely more boring and less comfortable places to hang around in. But somehow that idea seemed to stress her out terribly.
"I hate waiting," she complained. "I thought he'd take a look straight away."
"He's going to squeeze you in," I reminded her, "you can't expect him to cancel his previous appointments."
Long story short, the doc managed to take a look just in time so we could make it back to [home town] for my doctor's appointment. Neurologist still found the situation alarming after taking a closer look. He said that it might be a minor stroke or possibly the onset of a major stroke, so he sent the MIL to hospital for more tests and medical observation. So after my appointment, she packed some things and I dropped her off at the hospital. So far, so good. The MIL was understandably agitated about the fact that she might have suffered a minor stroke or that a "real" stroke might be approaching, so I tried to console her that it was 100% better to notice it at this point and go to hospital pre-emptively, as opposed to it happening unobserved, possibly at night, with us finding her ten hours later or something.
Then she was in hospital, and she later called us, full of complaints. The hospital was overcrowded, as badly funded hospitals occasionally tend to be, particularly in winter, so she'd been put in a room with two(!) other women and one of them was coughing all the time. Possibly because she was sick and had been hospitalised for that reason? But the MIL treated it as if she'd been put in a room with a coughing woman as a personal offense. How was she supposed to get rest? It was so annoying! She would come home from hospital sicker than before!
(As a side note, I absolutely get how constant coughing is annoying. It sets my teeth on edge, too. Somewhat ironically, the mother-in-law is prone to nervous coughs and will cough all the way through an evening's movie unless you tell her three times to take her meds or just plain drink something because she doesn't want to get up and/or doesn't want to need to pee at night. So she's a major offender, without the excuse of whatever illness that other woman had.)
And she's been paying for the private insurance upgrade that pays for a single room*! She complained to the nurses (within the hearing of the coughing woman, I have no doubt) until they put her into a different room. But there were no single rooms. They'd already been forced to turn all the single rooms into double rooms because people get sick in winter - I mean, they get sick all the time, but they get especially sick when they spend all their time in over-heated, badly ventilated rooms with other people, not counting all the people who happen to injure themselves during season-related activites such as Slipping On Ice, Cutting Your Leg Rather Than The Christmas Tree, or Burning Your Hand On A Candle. It's a busy time. Anyway, the only room with only one person in it was apparently in the observation unit, but alas! that one person happened to be a man. Gasp!
"Conditions like in ancient Rome!" the MIL complained.
When Jörg visited her in the evening, she was still worked up about the coughing woman. By that time, she had been in a different room for several hours, but she still hadn't gotten over how she! had been expected to share! a room! with two other people! one of whom coughs! all the time! She didn't even remember what tests they've done and what results she'd been told because she was so offended about the coughing woman.
And then she complained, "And now they're all judging me just because I spoke up."
Yeah, MIL, you know what? I'm judging you, too.
It's not about the annoyance. I absolutely understand getting annoyed. I get annoyed easily. I get annoyed by silly things, too. I may even vent about them. Privately. To my husband or my mum. Or maybe on my blog.
You know what I don't understand? Whining to already overworked nurses about things they can't change. These people work 24 hour shifts around people who cough (and worse) and complain all the damned time. What are they expected to do? Throttle the coughing woman? Kick out other patients so you can have that single room you crave? They're already doing what they can. They've already accomodated you by giving you a different room. And you're still whining? Of course they're judging you. You're making their already stressful day more stressful - and you're doing it unnecessarly. An emergency patient can't help having to be rushed in on top of a full schedule. They know that that kind of thing can happen. But the MIL is not (currently) an emergency patient.
Like. I don't think "She should be grateful that she's being treated at all" is a good attitude, but I can definitely see where it comes from.
Incidentally, my doc said I shouldn't be talking at all. Instead, I got to reply to questions and complaints from the MIL all day. (Also from my kids, but in their case, I see why they don't quite understand that mum doesn't answer their usual barrage of questions.) Yeah, that worked well.
And now I'm feeling like a bad entitled age-ist bitch for ranting about this on my journal.
- - -
* if available. "If" being the key word.
