In my hospital, it works like this

28 02 2007

Relatives:
1. You are at the hospital because your child/sibling/partner needs medical care. Now is not the time to tell me about your itchy foot or how you can’t remember what you ate for dinner last night – I really don’t care.

2. Unless the patient is unable to answer my questions for themselves, you should sit quietly and let them speak. When I ask your friend how they are feeling, I don’t want to know that you’re tired or thirsty. The coffee machine is down the hall, take a hike and leave us to it. Additionally, it is equally unhelpful for you to add “but he cut his thumb three months ago” when I ask about any other injuries/illnesses.

3. If your child/sibling/partner needs an IV or a shot and you know you’re not good with needles, leave the room or look away. Standing there going “I think I’m going to throw up” or “I feel kind of light headed” while doing absolutely nothing about it will not help you or your child/sibling/partner. Remember, you are here FOR the patient, not to BE the patient.

4. If you’re going to be concerned about something, at least google it before going wild with the baby wipes. Just so you know, the broken hand your child/sibling/partner has is not going to increase their risk of getting MRSA so the wet kleenex you insist on rubbing all over my patient is somewhat pointless. Besides, hospitals are the germiest places in the world… if you’re worried about getting sick, you’re in the wrong place.

5. Get out of the way when I tell you to. Grabbing at the patient and insisting you hold their hand/sit on the bed/massage their feet is not particularly helpful to me or them.

Patients:
1. If we need you to be naked, we will ask or cut your clothes off. Unless you have specifically been told you need to remove *everything,* I don’t want to walk into your room and find you laying on your bed completely naked – and smiling about it. It is not sexy and I dislike having to maintain eye contact the whole time just so you don’t think I’m looking at your… *ahem* stuff.

2. Unless you can show that you are sicker than we are, don’t bother coming to see us. I’ve had a cold for a month but I haven’t needed to go to hospital, what makes you so special?

3. If you can’t decide what is wrong with you, don’t even bother thinking about coming to see us. I’m sure your headache really did turn into a broken arm and then a heart attack but we can’t treat you for problems which spontaneously resolve themselves. I am sure your shrink would like to hear about this, however.

4. Presumably I’m seeing you because you chose to come here. The least you can do is put down your book/PSP/phone/laptop long enough to talk to me and let me do my job. Yes I know that discussing your sex life at the top of your voice is more important than the gaping wound in your arm but the sooner I can do what I have to, the sooner you can get back to Bruce and his HUGE…

…apartment.


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