Mom is back in the hospital. My thoughts are with her and her recovery. I have written and erased this post three times which leads me to believe that my feelings are a bit complicated about her experience as a patient. The important piece of information is that she is getting the help she needs.
Times have changed. We no longer have a neighborhood doctor who goes to church with us and knows our families. We have three different primary care physicians in our family and I have the following additional doctors: cardiologist, neurologist, rheumatologist, physical therapist, gynecologist, and hematologist. I love some of them and suffer through the arrogance of the others. I currently have been trying to get an appointment with my cardiologist for 3 weeks. His office will not call me back because I am fine. Which begs the question of why I have to see him every year? Let me go, please.
I am no better or worse a patient than my parents. When I am sick, I pretend to feel better than I do; I hate hospitals, and I am the boss of me. The doctor who knows all of that about me will be retiring any second now. She will be replaced by a 12 year old who I will hate initially but will hopefully come to grudgingly respect. I can't wait. Really.
So, what it really boils down to is that I am feeling grateful that the imperfect system we have in place managed to catch my mom as she was falling. I will try and keep the faith in our medical system, against the odds.