I’ve always been a tomboy, my older-by-eight-years brother’s hand-me-down toys some of my favorites. G.I. Joe went on as many, if not more, adventures than Malibu Barbie and Suntan Ken did. Surprisingly, though, I never went fishing, as many of the kids I grew up with did and seems the perfect activity for a girl in a baseball cap and skinned knees. And so I never got used to worms. I am sure it can be contested that just because you handle them doesn’t mean you get used to them, but I never had the opportunity nor the interest to test out the theory.
I didn’t finally get to try my hand at casting, but yesterday I opened a big ole can of worms nonetheless. You see, I recently spent a week in my local hospital and the stay left me with a bad taste in my mouth and I’m not referring to the food which was actually very good and one of the few positives of the time spent in room 496. The level of service I received was lacking in many areas. I kept notes and if you’re a frequent visitor to this site you aren’t surprised to hear this and if you’re not, Hi, I’m Sister Rain. I may have started to document events to combat the boredom but it quickly became evident on day one that being a patient in a hospital is not what it once was. Or is it, and things are terribly off in this particular medical center that has been a part of my community my entire life? By the end of my seven-day stay, I had no answer to that question but I did have a record of concerns that were impossible to ignore. I scheduled a meeting with a patient relations representative and yesterday I was able to share what I observed with her.
Calling attention to the unacceptable is not easy and I will admit I did have a moment’s hesitation for fear of retribution should I find myself seeking medical assistance at this same facility in the future. But I want my friends, family and neighbors to get quality care in their backyard. Also, I was able to speak up for myself when the managing of my care fell through the cracks but not everyone can or will. The things that I experienced cannot happen to an 80-year-old woman. I will not allow it.
I encourage you to open your own can of worms whenever you become aware of something you know to not wrong. I’m not naive, waking up blind removed any remnants of innocence that remained at 47, and I understand the reality of budgets, red tape and apathy. But if we don’t try we are worse than them because we know better. Open the can. Approach the water with the facts, humility, compassion, hope and a little anger never hurt. It’s scary and daunting but you may just catch a really big fish called change.
