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Health care globalization
Different healthcare systems around the world
Different healthcare systems around the world
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My experience with the medical system has exponentially increased over the past two years. Aside from a torn ligament in my knee, and broken growth plate that crippled me during my high school years; I experienced the medical system through the eyes of an accompanying family member. On October 6th, 2014 my moms MRI results came in, and showed a tumor the size of a baseball protruding around her frontal cortex. The months leading up to October were led by inarticulate thoughts and memory loss. My mother had brain surgery on an early morning the day of Thanksgiving. After two weeks, we were informed by Dr.Kilpatrick (the neurosurgeon) that the tumor that was removed was malignant(cancerous). After that day my life was altered in almost every
Working as an oncology nurse has been a life changing experience. I have grown not only as a nurse, but also as a person. My eyes have been opened to the value of life, and not just life itself, but the precious thing that is a healthy life. I cannot count the number of patients from the beginning of my nursing career until now that have told me, “Well, I just didn’t think my symptoms were a big deal” or “The doctor told me I needed additional tests but it didn’t seem important at the time and I didn’t have any money”. The lack of patient education and provider follow-up in situations such as these is disheartening to observe. Experiences I have had with patients combined with their life stories have fueled my desire to become a family nurse
Living our busy lives no one else in the family could travel to Houston. Grandma was a strong woman. She could overcome anything and cancer was not going to defeat her. When she arrived at the hospital the doctors took a cat scan and figured out that she had stage four melanoma skin cancer. While my mother and grandma were at M.D. Anderson I was at home living a normal life just starting my first high school basketball season. Every night I worried about how she was doing not thinking about my school work or my athletics. A couple weeks later I called grandma and asked her how she was doing and she assured me that everything was going to be okay and that I should not worry about her. That’s how she lived. She never put herself first in any situation and family and friends were her main focus. Grandma would do anything to make her grandkids happy. I told my grandma I loved her and hung up the phone. The next day at school I looked up the percentage of people killed by melanoma skin cancer and the results were not good. One person dies of melanoma every 54 minutes. When I got home that evening I told my dad that I needed to be in Houston with my grandma. He said he didn’t think that he could make it happen with his busy schedule. I called my mom upset realizing that
When I think about the moments leading up to my diagnosis I remember feeling weak, confused, shaky and sleepy. I did not notice that I had began sleeping throughout the day. My body was craving soft drinks like soda and juice but not food. Days would go by and I eventually fell into a deep slumber that I found myself only waking up from to use the bathroom. I knew something was wrong and that if I did not get to a hospital it would get worse. Nothing could have prepared me for the life changing diagnosis I would receive.
David’s rehab center on 32nd. So they sent her off to that facility. The whole family agreed that would be great, so she would be able to gain her mobility back. It's February now and after doing all of the therapy my grandmother would be coming home Friday, February the 12th, wow this felt like the worse was coming to an end and she was coming home tomorrow morning. But God had other plans, we had got a call that Friday morning at 3:45 am saying that heart had stopped and that it was unknown how long she had been down, they said it took them ten minutes to get a pulse started and they battled for an hour to stabilize her heartbeat. This was it. She’s gone. But we have to keep the faith when we arrived at the hospital she had only been stable for about five minutes. This to us already was tragic news they had her on a ventilator, which is also known as life support. We knew that at this point in time the lady that was holding the family together was now holding on to her life. The doctors told us that the worst case scenario she could be brain dead, they ran the test and finally found out why her heart stopped. My grandmother had had a pulmonary embolism which is a condition when one or more arteries in the lungs are blocked by a blood clot. This embolism caused her heart to stop. The cooled her body temperature all the way down to 30 degrees Fahrenheit to protect her brain. When they did the CAT scan they revealed that she was, in fact, brain dead and without the machine she wouldn’t
During my ninth grade year, my grandma was set to have her meningioma brain tumor removed on February 2nd, 2015. She was, of course, nervous about the surgery. Someone was going to literally cut open her head and essentially suck out the tumor. It was a normal school day for me. I woke up, got ready for school, and almost rushed out of the house, but she stopped me to say goodbye while making a seemingly innocent joke about not returning the same after her surgery. At the time I was ignorant of the possibilities and hit by a truck when I was pulled out of school early. There were complications and she had a minor stroke. I was petrified by the idea of losing her, the woman that I looked up to, and who practically raised me but the outcome was
A week before Christmas in 2013, my stepfather suddenly lost consciousness. His body stiffened and he began to violently convulse – he was having a seizure. Later in the hospital, the doctors informed us that my stepdad had suffered a hemorrhagic stroke. The anguish that I felt that night was eased by a nurse who talked to my family about my stepfather’s condition and assured us that the hospital would do everything that they can to assist him with recovery. The next few weeks were filled with uncertainty as my stepdad laid comatose, no knowledge of when or even if he would wake up. During that time, my interactions with the nurses always made me feel safe and comforted Unfortunately, he passed away in January 2014. Though this was a traumatic and life altering experience, what I remember most are the nurses that provided care to my stepfather. They went above and beyond their outlined job duties to care for my loved one and to make my family feel secure even in such a difficult time.
Shortly after I had learned to drive, my mother called me while I was at the store. She told me in an urgent voice that she was in a lot of pain and had to be taken to the doctor. I immediately left the store and drove my poor mother to the health center where she could be helped. After waiting for what seemed like forever, my mother was finally taken back to see the doctor. As it turned out, my mother had a condition that caused spasms of pain throughout the day. Despite the fact that she had this condition, she was given a minimal amount of Vicodin to get her through the agonizing pain. She suffered through the pain for weeks, and the medicine did little to help the spasms that shook her whole body. I watched her in despair. If it was the doctor’s job to help her, why didn’t he do anything to assuage her pain?
Julie and her husband got in a car accident and were rushed to the hospital. Julie’s husband is fine and only has a few scratches, but says that he is concerned because his wife fell asleep behind the wheel. Their doctors run a few tests on her to see what is wrong and find a brain tumor that cannot be removed. They also found out that she didn’t fall asleep behind the wheel, instead she had a seizure. They give her only weeks to live. In the weeks to come, Julie will lose all function in her arms and legs, lose control of her bowel and bladder, have more seizures, start drooling because of the pain medication, lose the ability to talk and feed herself, loose her memories and personality, and the person Julie’s husband loves and
One morning, a few weeks into my junior year of high school, my mother woke up and couldn't move her legs. She was rushed to the hospital, and after several days she was diagnosed with Transverse Myelitis, an autoimmune disease which inflames the spinal cord and damages the nervous system, causing intense pain and paralysis. In order to receive better care, my mother was sent to St. Dominic's in Jackson, Mississippi, about an hour and a half from where my family lives in McComb. Because my father had to work and take my younger sister to school, he was unable to stay with my mother full time. Not wanting my mother to be by herself, I dropped out of high school and began homeschooling so that I could stay with her.
Many weeks of cancer treatments for my little sister Tory has worn me down. Tory was diagnosed with leukemia last fall. My parents have never been the same since that unforgettable doctor's appointment. I mean, I feel the same way, cancer has created a one big problem in my family. Lately, all the attention has been on Tory and her health issues, and I am afraid my parents forgot that I still exist.
I grew up in a research and development campus where my father is a scientist. Research and curiosity were constantly encouraged and this prompted me to take up medicine as a career, a field that offers tremendous prospects for research and discoveries. Throughout medical school I tried to be involved in research and attempts at trying out new ideas, be it in the lab or working with human subjects. I carried this through my residency and now my fellowship. The idea of studying a topic or issue that has so far not been treaded upon seems to be extremely exciting and challenging.
The doctors in the hospital cleared my mom for visitors, so we went to see her every day after school. That Saturday, my dad decided to spend the night in the hospital with my mom. Mrs. Lindler spent the night at our house with us and took my siblings and me to church on Sunday morning. At this time, the doctors hadn’t confirmed that Mom had had a stroke, so they were running tests left and right. They finally figured out that she’d had a small stroke on the left side of her brain. They thought this was due to an extremely small hole in her heart. The doctors told her it would be best to have surgery to get this repaired. The surgery was very minimally invasive. They would go in with a catheter through a vein in her leg. The catheter would place a metal patch on the hole, and the heart tissue would grow around it. My mom scheduled her surgery for May 29th, 2016, and was discharged from the hospital.
I don’t follow much news from Quebec. Even though I grew up in the Eastern Townships I am so wrapped up in my own community I missed one important news item. The Queen Victoria Hospital in Montreal is closing on Sunday. I don’t have many fond memories of the 122-year-old hospital located on Mount Royal. My first memory as a 2-year-old was sitting on a cast iron hospital bed while my Mother was playing solitaire. There were no children allowed in the hospital in those days, but after my Mother gave birth to me she had no idea who anyone was. The doctors hoped some memory might come back into her life seeing me. But she did not remember anything for a very long time.
I woke up in post-op with my mom at my side. “Mom, that laughing gas is some messed up stuff.” I said woozily. My mom smiled and nodded. A nurse came over, “Is she speaking gibberish?” My mom laughed lightly and responded, “She hasn’t stopped talking since 9 months. And now’s no exception.” I went back home with two stitches on either side of my stomach and one in my belly button. My stomach swelled around the stitches and everything hurt. I smelled like antiseptic soap blended with honey and expired milk. I wanted to take a shower, but the residual drowsiness of anesthesia clung to me like a needy boyfriend. I slept all day, only waking up for eating. Even the next morning, some effect of the anesthesia must have still hung on because I woke
It was a dark and stormy night when the plane left the runway into the air. It was only Bruce's second time on a plane, other than when he first moved to China a year ago. He was actually handling it better this time, but only because he was so focused on one of his favorite movies. As he began to binge watch zombie movies, he started to calm down and a smile almost appeared on his face. There was a brief moment that jolted him back into reality as the plane hit some turbulence. His hands started to shake and he felt as if he couldn’t breathe. After the 'Fasten Your Seatbelts' sign turned off, a sturdiest started to speak over the crackling intercom.