I am a person first not my diagnosis: Holding onto my dignity in the medical system

I was naked lying on the hospital bed and my nurse was to my right and my sister to my left. The PSW, my nurses’ assistant said “I’m supposed to wait for my nurse partner in order to change you”. She had at least started the process by taking the wet diaper off and leaving it at the end of the bed. This PSW was fantastic always attentive and came immediately, which led me to believe that she was picking up the slack of her nurse partner.

I kept pushing the call button and looking up at the clock, to make sure I was not being impatient. I ran through my checklist in my head before I pushed the call button again; “yes”, the new shift had started; nobody should be on break as yet.

I had been in the hospital for four weeks and had realized I would help myself if I tried to figure out the way the nurses’ schedule worked; who took breaks, when, for how long. You learn quickly when you are in the care of others and your recovery time is dependent on how nurses or therapist will care for you. So as the nurses would walk into the room I would greet them with a smile, personally acknowledging them, using their names and making light conversation. I believe that this is polite, however, in a self-serving way, I also believe when someone says your name you are holding them accountable for their actions.

I kept pushing the call button, it had been eight minutes now. If there is one thing I’ve never liked is people being taken advantage of, so I rang the bell again. My sister went to stick her head out the door to see if anybody was at the nurse station. Yes the bell was being heard by at least four nurses that were starting their shift. When the nurse finally arrived, she entered the room saying “yes, what is needed?” The PSW looked at the wet diaper at the end of the bed and informed her that she needed help changing me into a new diaper. The nurse then picked up the wet diaper and examined it and said “this is still a good diaper and she waved it in the air. And then she said to me “What did the Therapists tell you about these diapers? They can hold 30lbs of liquid!” As she walked out she further exclaimed “I’m not changing her! That is a waste of a good diaper!”

At that point I was in shock. And could not say anything I felt vulnerable; I was in this person’s care for at least a few more weeks and did not want to come across as a difficult patient. What I had wanted to say to her was, “Just because the diaper can hold 30lbs of liquid does not mean I’m supposed to sit in 30lbs of urine!”