Phony ‘disabled’ vet gets destroyed by wounded woman warrior\

Trust you? Sure.

Trust me.

You would have been absolutely stunned at the lack of caring care and absolute indifference on the part of the nursing staff. Doctors were okay but nurses, as you know, reflect true standard of care at a facility.

I checked out when I could, after ensuring I wasn't contagious, got on the next plane to DFW and went straight to a very nice, clean hospital, a private hospital that actually CARED and provided competent care and the nursing staff were outstanding. Spent 9-days in hospital and I am convinced had I stayed in the VA Long Beach hospital., I would have died. Not hype. Truth.

From an earlier post where I related my experience. Please take a moment to consider.

Here is my nightmare experience with the Long Beach Veterans Hospital (Posted at: http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/news/2685965/posts?page=11#11

My flight landed mid-morning and later that afternoon I started to feel pretty awful, so awful in fact, I ended up heading to the nearest hospital, a VA hospital. I walked in to the ER late that evening, went up to a bored reception clerk to check-in and was handed the usual papers to fill out and told to take a seat. Looking around the room I could tell it would be a long wait before I was seen.

I took the papers off the desk, grabbed my pen and found out I couldn’t control my fingers. Not good. I started to feel woozy. Really not good. I told the reception guy that those papers would have to wait as I was feeling light-headed and then promptly lost my legs and started for the floor. I caught myself and made a “soft” crash to the floor and next I knew I was in a wheelchair being whisked to the head of the line, zipping into the treatment area.

I was wired up and plugged in, running a fever of 102.6 (eventually peaked at 103.1). I felt awful, needless to say. Well, after being fed antibiotics and other drugs for 8-hrs, I began to feel better and was released. With one hand holding some papers they gave me and antibiotics in the other hand, I bolted out of there and went to my small corporate studio apartment for rest and to take those pills for the next week.

After two days of taking the antibiotics I found myself in worse shape, more pain and new symptoms. Argh. . .I went to the same VA hospital and went to the clinic area (where I was supposed to report in the next few days for follow up). I checked in at 1000hrs and waited and waited and waited, was eventually seen by the med tech at 1215 for vitals (fever of 100.5) and was sent back to the waiting room for the doc.

The doc calls for me at 1610hrs and we talk and he sends me for labs (blood work and piss-test). I was to wait and see the doc after he reviewed the lab reports. Lab reports came in and the doc said, yup, you are sick. No kidding. He said he was going to give me different antibiotics and send me home.

I told the doc I was really feeling bad and that perhaps he should check my temperature again and check the ‘ol prostate. Men usually don’t ask for “the check,” but it seemed like the thing to do at the time. He agreed, took my temperature found it reading 102.5. Still frowning from that reading, he did the usual prostate exam.

Boy-howdy-key-rist-bee-gee-sus-slap-your-grandma-and-call-me-sadie-mae did that HURT!.

Next I know I am in another wheel chair and being whisked onto the infectious disease ward and placed in isolation. What? Did I have the dreaded ‘cooties? Thus began the nightmare with the VA system.

The first night is a blur of morphine and vicodin, IV fluids of all sorts pokes and prods, blood tests and temperature checks. All the time doctors that were so young I am sure they were not old enough to drive, let alone practice medicine, paraded through, asking the same questions over and over. What was especially depressing was the end-of-life decisions they kept asking me, and they were serious about getting an answer (I had no idea how close I was to “checking out.”

Eventually I was alone in isolation and in the dark, just outside the nurses’ station.

One night I awoke with three nurses working on me. Apparently I was “out,” way out when they came to check on me. The infection had spread and my body was getting the heck kicked out of it, so when the nurse came to check on me, she found me unresponsive. I eventually (and gradually) woke up to find the nurses doing that progressive pain thing to wake people up.

One was squeezing hard my feet and toes, another was flicking drops of water on my face and a third nurse was giving me a ‘nuggie with her knuckle on the center of my chest. At least these three were the best looking nurses in the ward.

I do recall that if I hit the “call” button at night because of some reason, it took a very long time for anyone to respond. Not just for me, but I could hear the buzzer alarm go off when others would ring for help and the buzzer would go on and on and on.

Great I thought, you are in a hospital and hit the panic button and no one comes. This is the night shift, by the way.

I discovered there is a big difference in the quality of care between the day-shift and night-shift.

Day-shift, responded to buzzers and fairly respectful when dealing with you. Night-shift, completely different story. Ignoring the panic button and acting like you are upsetting their night if you ask for water, let alone for a refill on the pain meds. I also found them sleeping in the TV room far away from their station.

It was during the night-shift I met Nurse Ratchet from One Flew Over the Coo-Coos Nest.

I was drowsy and woke up at 0115hrs and found my urine collection jar nearly full (they collect that stuff). A nurse’s aide is supposed to record and empty the urine jar and apparently for hours she had not. Besides, a nurse was to give me more pain meds at 0100hrs and had not. I waited for the nurse, expecting her to arrive at any time with my meds. I eventually went back to dozing. I woke up again at 0300hrs and urine jar is now full and I had not received my meds. This is now a little over six-hours since the urine jar was emptied and two-hours over-due for my morphine.

I hit the call button and heard the buzzer go off. After 10-minutes and no one came, I got up and went to my door and stood there. Saw the nurses’ station empty. In fact, no one was in view at all. After a few more minutes Nurse Ratchet came up and turned off the buzzer at the nurses’ station and I said I needed my morphine. She gave me a ”surly” look, like I was interrupting her night, told me she would get it.

After quite a while, Nurse Ratchet did come back with the morphine for my IV. As she was giving the morphine, I asked for my vicodin, as it was due at 0300hrs.

Nurse Ratchet grunted and mumbled something about getting another nurse and left. 15-minutes later and no one came. I again got up and hobbled to my door and saw just one guy sitting there. He is a good RN and he asked what I needed. I told him. He got up and looked down a hallway behind the station and saw Nurse Ratchet. He asked her if she would get my (over-due) pain meds. She doesn’t get up and says she told Nurse So-and-So to get my meds.

Nurse So-and -So, a good nurse, she hears this conversation from where she is standing. Nurse So-and-So was standing in a door to another isolation room and said she told Nurse Ratchet that she was working one-on-one and could not leave her patient. It appears Nurse Ratchet thought her responsibility was over by just passing the word and NOT ensuring proper care or follow-up.

The good male nurse then tells Nurse Ratchet to get me my vicodin. The good male nurse then left to tend to his own patient.

I waited in my door expecting her to arrive momentarily, but many minutes later, she is still missing. I peaked down the hallway and see Nurse Ratchet filing her nails and sitting with her feet up! Good gawd. I am overdue pain meds, in great pain and she is just sitting there.

At that time the good male nurse came back and I told him about Nurse Ratchet filing her nails and not making any effort to provide the pain meds. The good male nurse flew back to Nurse Ratchet and forcefully told her to give me my meds.

After about another 5-min Nurse Ratchet emerges from the hallway and asks what I wanted (like she didn’t know.). I said my pain med, vicodin. She turns slowly and disappears down the hall. A few minutes later another nurse arrives and gave me my pain med.

One wonders if I would have EVER received any pain meds if I had not painfully got out of my bed and made sure I was cared for.

The next morning I told the doc and the Nurse Manager. I explained the situation and told them I do NOT want Nurse Ratchet to come close to me because she was unprofessional, uncaring, and apparently sadistic and most likely vindictive.

The next few days never varied much in treatment and the comings and goings of doctors. It was during this time I truly understood that real care in a hospital is provided by the nursing staff. Good nurses mean great care and recovery. Bad nurses mean pain, discomfort and possibly even death.

For example. . .

Early one morning I got up, and yes, embarrassing to say, positioned Mr Happy for a drain in the urine jar (no longer “wired up” for that activity), let go, and missed. I went on the floor. (Hey, I am not John Holmes, okay).

Embarrassed, I went and found a (sleeping) nurse’s aide and told her. She came back to my room with a few towels and mopped up the area, and then left. I sat on my bed, wondering when housekeeping would arrive to disinfect the floor. 13-mins went by and no housekeeping (I timed it). I went out and found the same nurse’s aide, sleeping, woke her and asked her when we can expect housekeeping.
Incredibly, she asked, “Why?”

I told her that the floor needs to be disinfected because docs and nurses and others would be in and out, tracking throughout the hospital whatever they pick up from my floor. I was infectious at that time and anyone entering my room had to suit-up. Her answer was “Housekeeping won’t come out this early.”

Good gawd. by now I was told I had likely contracted MRSA and other infections, and was told by a nurse housekeeping won’t come and clean the floor? What about nurses that will have to walk through that sticky floor and then go to other patients and their room? How about the nurse that comes every 6-hrs to get more blood? This is unacceptable.

I waited hours until I saw a cleaning lady and asked her to disinfect the floor. She did, no problem.

Another unhealthy experience is the showers. I used the shower a couple of times, once early in my stay, another time near the end of my stay.

First shower: The good nurse disconnected my IV’s and wrapped in plastic my IV leads on my arm. Good. I walked down the hall to the shower and found two stalls. Both with visible mildew. Ugh. I also noticed small black gnats flying in the showers. Ewww,

Then I saw that other patients had pulled off some of their bandages during their shower and left them on the hand-holds on the wall. It was like a third-world experience.

Days later, night-shift, second shower: After being disconnected from my IV tree, I started for the shower and then remembered to get my IV-leads wrapped to keep soap and moisture out of them. I found my nurse’s aide and asked her to wrap my arm and she had no idea what I was talking about.

I had to get the plastic for her, cut it and help her tape it securely. I then went to the shower and found nothing had changed, still mildew, flies and the same old bandages.

Another major health hazard I encountered was the pajama-type of clothes. They are comfortable, for sure. I needed a change and asked for new PJs. The nurse’s aide delivered the tops and bottoms and I put them on, only to find many snaps on the shirt were missing. I took the shirt off, went to the nurse’s aide and gave her the unusable shirt and asked for another. She gave me a new shirt. No issues.

Now fast forward two-days. I need another change and I discover that after I put the new shirt on, it is the SAME top with the missing snaps. (?) The nurses aid had taken the original snap-less shirt I gave back and returned it to the linen closet for re-issue to me or other patients. They are supposed to toss those previously worn garments in the soiled bin.

I give back the top and tell the nurses aide to get me a new shirt and to toss the other shirt.

Another day goes by and I need another change. I ask for new clothes and was, yes, you guessed it, given the same shirt that I turned in the other day. The shirt with the missing snaps.

Okay, think about that, someone ill, contagious with sores, in a room where the nurses and doctors “suit-up” before entering, tries on a shirt and gives it back and that shirt is returned to the linen closet for re-issue? How sanitary is that? I turn in a shirt I had worn and the nurse’s aide put it back in the linen closet for re-issue. Gag. Are you kidding me?

Eventually I was no longer infectious (much) and they came and told me I was moving from my single room to a room with two other guys. Wonderful These guys were hurting, one constantly moaned and the other would yelp in pain at random moments (and watch his TV at full volume because he was nearly deaf.

When told they needed my single room, I decided I would just pack up and go to the nearest private hospital and check in and get a private room. I have private medical insurance, after all.

When I told the nursing staff my intention they went nuts, “You CAN’T leave!” They said. “Oh yes I can. Watch me” I replied. Eventually the head doc of the infectious disease department came by and we talked. It was then he told me just how close I was to checking out.

I decided to stay, even though the distance between the beds was a mere 36”. I am not kidding. The room was clearly designed to hold two people but had four beds in it. Oh, and as I was being moved into the room, the nurses put up a WARNING sign to those entering the room—a suite-up before entering warning sign. Get that? I am being put in a room with two other guys already sick and I have an infection that warrants hospital staff to suit up but it is just great for the patients in the room to be exposed.

The next morning, I found myself walking past the floor’s conference room. The trainee medical student wanna-be doctors were assembling for their overview of cases. As I approached the door I heard my name mentioned:

Med student: “. . .and XXXXXX (my name)”

Female Med student: “I heard he caused quite a scene last night” (the night I tried to leave).

An Arrogant Pompous Med Student: “Yeah, I heard of that. He’s an ####, selfish bastard, and would not give up the private room”

Upon hearing this, I was angry and stepped into the doorframe and said: “Hey!”, everyone turned to look at me, an old guy looking like death, standing there with his IV-tree, “You! I’m XXXXXX. If you have an issue with me, be a man and come talk to me! Now, you weren’t there. You don’t have all the facts. You don’t know the whole story so I suggest you stop talking out your ####!” (I then apologized for the profanity)

Stunned silence from the dozen or so students in the room. I turned and left.

The docs came by after almost a weeks stay and told me I was now released. Yeah! Couldn’t wait to get out of there. Paperwork quickly done, meds issued and I was out of there. I was told to return for a follow up visit a week later.

A day later they docs called me at 1700hrs and told me to get back to the hospital immediately, right now, for direct admission to be treated with an IV-drip for up to 14-days, as they confirmed MRSA.

Whoa. Hold on, I told them, I was NOT going back into the VA hospital. No way. No how.

I would instead fly to to my home where my family is and I can receive clean, competent care at a private hospital. The docs were adamant about me returning immediately but I would not budge.

Eventually they gave up.

I verified I was cleared to fly (non-infectious).

Flew home and within a day I found myself being seen and treated in a safe, clean, friendly environment.

Let me tell you, the difference in care and treatment by a [private doc and nursing staff is a world apart from the awful VA hospital.

Sad thing is, and I am being harsh, the usual VA patient on the ward that I saw was some guy who served for a few years and then spent the next 20-30 years abusing his body with drugs or alcohol. I did not fit their profile and they did not know how to handle someone that was informed and aware of their patient rights.

The VA docs never briefed me on what they were doing, what meds they were administering, nothing until I insisted on a daily brief. The “usual” VA in-patient just sits there and takes what they give them.

I am thankful I had options, that I had private medical insurance and Tri-Care for life so I did NOT have to rely on the VA system.

I did write a letter to the VA IG. Specifically asked for an investoigation of the hospital, too include the hospital administrator as shge refused to receive the list of my concerns. Based upon the systemic problems of the hospital, spanning medical care to housekeeping to administration, I specifically asked the VA IG to call in an outside investigator.

The IG refused.

The IG asked the hospital administrator to investigate herself and her hospital. Oh goody. Do I really have to tell you she sent a letter saying she investigated and found my charges without merit? Do I really have to say this?

I am sure I would have died if I stayed or returned to the VA hospital.

Wow,lots of info to consider.In my previous post I should have been more clear in letting you know that I wasn’t challenging your statement of having received bad treatment at a VA hospital.As I said...I have limited knowledge of Army medicine (during the Vietnam era;I was discharged in ‘75) and a good deal of knowledge of civilian medicine,having worked at a well known hospital for many years.However,as I stated,I have *no* personal knowledge of VA hospitals.The only knowledge I have of such facilities comes second hand from physicians with whom I’ve worked that have also worked at two Boston area VA hospitals.All things considered I hope you’ve made a good recovery from your past difficulties.Later,when I have some time I’ll read your entire post.

Duckworth, Kerry (both of them), and Murtha are all cut from the same cloth: Marxists who try to make themselves bulletproof with their uniformed service.

Gen (later President) Grant said that politicians who run on their military service “wave the bloody shirt.”

I’ll give Duckworth props as she actually served and is genuinely a disabled vet. However, I’ve no use for her politics. Let’s pray that the Lord opens her eyes and she examines her party and values.

“And any tax free disability pay is from the VA, not the US military, and currently, any tax free disability pay from the VA is deducted from your retired active-duty retirement pay.”

The net effect is that whatever portion of retirement pay that is classified as disability pay is tax-free.

What occurs with some routine is military retirees are classified as partially disabled for some reason, they get their retired/disability pay as you described and then go to work for, say, a defense contractor.

So the disability pay is simply a tax-free supplement to somebody who is able to work another job and is not disabled.

Anyone else notice that she grabs the mic and removes her glasses with the right arm that she “can not feel”?

That is retarded, Sir.

That is retarded, Sir.

You're free to your opinion, but my statement is fact.

LOL! I was quoting the girl who was a friend of Trayvon Martin. On the witness stand, she told the defense attorney that his assertion was retarded.

c’mon.... really??? You’re really going to go there? I agree. Thats retarded.

Sort of. Sort of a rant follows. . .

There are many people that are disabled and can still work. . .and do, military or not.

After a career flying fighters I have degenerative spine problems traced to high-G environment. . .as my neck problems are too. Can’t fly anymore but can do some very fine desk work.

I took my knowledge, credibility and experience in the military and worked for a contractor for good pay. . .AND I didn’t have to move every few years or get shot at (bonus).

Of course, if people object to former military using their insight, knowledge, skills and abilities to be employed by a contractor, then the only other option is to have civilians with no military experience or knowledge making decisions on hardware and such, and those decisions are not in this nations best interests. Former military have friends and sometimes family, in the field. We take that seriously.

I had a program with the contractor I worked for but I knew it was not the “best” product. When I engaged the customer (military user) I would present my product and they knew me well enough that they could pick up on the second-tier status of the product. Conversely, if I was adamant about the product, the customer knew I knew what I was talking about and listened.

The worst people I saw working for contractors were civilian all the way. . .dedicated to the sale not the user/military. That went against everything we former military held dear.

Many, like me, earned our “tax free” benefit. We spent a career on the line and doing the job, which requires most times putting family behind the mission. That is why they call it “service.” “Service before Self” is more than a motto.

Most VA pay is earned. Some scammers? Yup. Just like any system—subject to abuse.

Apology for the data-dump.

The VA medical system holds a place in my heart. . . .

Nobody is saying that qualified folks, no matter what their background, shouldn’t work for contractors.

However, if they are paid extra because they claim a disability, get a retirement check from the military, and get medical for life - then where is the disability?

Lots of people work hard jobs, wear their bodies out and can’t do the things they used to be able to do. They are not entitled to disability as long as they can do something else to make a living.

why wouldn’t the same apply to military fractionally disabled?

I was in the military, I know the game. I’ve known plenty of “disabled” military retirees working in and out of contractor and even in private sector. Military disability pay for fractionally disabled folks that are also gainfully employed is ridiculous.

Hey, it’s an entitlement, lots of people get it - some even legitimately under the rules, a lot are scammers (you say most are not - neither of us can know the true numbers) - but let’s be clear, we’re broke. The borrowing binge of the last 30 years allowed a lot of this to exist, but we’re done with that. A lot of federal benefits, retirement packages and other entitlements are likely to fall under the axe.

That’s what happens when a broke society finally stops pretending it isn’t broke.

we just haven’t yet had to stop pretending.