After vacation, you could say we encountered some rather bad luck. I say we, but the sympathy should be reserved for my wife, who after two days back at work, suffered a nasty fall and shattered her olecranon. My diagnostic skills are weak in this area, but my hack medical description of this injury would place it as a Type IIIB, replete with instability of the forearm and multiple fragments. Lest we say that it wasn’t funny at all (cue collective groan).
Having never had a catastrophic injury before, when I received her phone call that something was wrong, her voice was a bit higher-pitched, but the timbre and inflection didn’t suggest anything worthy of alarm. In fact, she seemed more concerned about a set of keys that dropped through a sewer grate during the tumble. Assuming shock was playing a part, we arrived at the emergency with the arm immobilized, and she proceeded to sit and read her book for 4 hours in the waiting room. She felt some discomfort when she tried to move, but no agonizing pain. We were both aghast when the doctor returned with the x-ray results; her ‘bad sprain’ would require immediate surgery. In hindsight, the fact she could no longer locate the knob of her elbow probably should’ve been a giveaway.
So the ER doc forwarded paperwork to the main hospital, but it was one in the morning and the services were closed. So he applied a cast, asked she refrain from eating or drinking, and head to the hospital at 9 in the morning (basically cast, fast, and last). The morning comes, they take x-rays, perform a work-up triage, and….send her home…on a Friday. The new instructions were to start fasting at midnight, and wait by the phone for a possible call in the morning. Saturday morning rolls in and no call. Now I might add, she is not taking anything for pain, just frequent icing and sleeping uncomfortably in a chair with a cushion supporting her thankfully non-dominant arm. By 3pm, I’m calling the hospital myself as she now hasn’t eaten in over 15 hours. Lo and behold, the nurse had thought someone already called. No surgery today due a multiple trauma situation. Repeat the midnight fast. Two MORE days go by until she gets in on the Monday morning. With a little hardware insertion, she is now partially bionic and taking on any arm-wrestling challengers (kidding).
Through the ordeal, we realized that as pharmacists entrenched in the healthcare system, we are providing care to patients, and don’t often ponder the role of the consumer. To find ourselves on the flip side dealing with the uncertainly of a foreign process, we honestly had a frustrating few days. Healthcare is often measured in units of length, not quality. How long will it take to fill my prescription? How long is the wait in the emergency room? How long is the wait list for my carpal-tunnel surgery?
As a provider, we understand all the moving parts and systems that help us deliver quality healthcare. The time we take to ensure we’re being prudent, thorough and safe can not be understated. To us, 30 minutes for a prescription may be completely realistic so that everyone in line for a medication service will receive the same experience, regardless of whether it’s an injection, a medication review and/or a simple refill. In order to maintain consistency and sustainability, that block of time is necessary for very good reasons.
As a consumer on the other hand, we lacked the understanding, and every missed phone call, or being ‘bumped’ was hard to comprehend. My wife is unable to function for 3 1/2 days; no real sleep, fasting cycles, trouble performing any regular tasks we may take for granted (laundry, cooking, dressing, showering, etc). We’ve since determined that an ‘eternity’ is now defined as 3 1/2 days. Just at the point of feeling helpless and distraught, it dawns on us that we need to trust the professionals to provide us with the best care under the system that binds them. How can we, as pharmacists, expect patients to trust us when we say that their prescription will take the time we quote them, when we’re not willing to give that same latitude to those trying to help us?
So I propose we attempt to measure the time in a different way. Specifically, let’s look at duration of relationships. How long have you had the same family doctor? Did he/she treat your parents or kids? How long has your pharmacist been following up on that pesky diabetes? How long is the history you’ve had with a dental clinic? Usually, the strong bonds you form in primary care are a testament to the quality you receive, and yes, most people will feel it’s worth the wait.
Time is relative. A service may seem to take too long, but merely a speck in what could become a rewarding long-term relationship.
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any agency, employer or affiliation.
