JEWISH GENERAL HOSPITAL - CHAOS

Follow my reports of my recent stay at the Jewish General Hospital and see what it is like when you are sick and helpless.

The JGH is one of the best in Canada, if not in the world - excellent, caring, skilled - even self-sacrificing doctors, nurses, secretaries and exhausted, run-ragged orderlies - but incompetent, irresponsible, arrogant employees and endless failure to communicate between personnel and departments can make your experience a challenge to endure. It's your life - but those in authority might tell you what to do - at their convenience - and expect you to obey, even though you know what you need and you see what is going on there. 

THEY HAVE EARS BUT THEY DO NOT LISTEN.

"Rules" take power over patients. "Rules" do not apply to patients who come to the hospital with large groups of noisy, demanding friends and relatives, while patients there alone cry for someone to get them on and off the toilet.

The staff do not seem to be able to differentiate between mentally ill patients and those who are just trying to survive, politely, painfully patiently.

Everyone rushes around. It seems no one communicates with anyone else. You are rushed about to appointments for which there is no need at all to rush. You are told you are going home and you spend all day wondering what's going on, and then you are told you are not going home - and then - you are.

As a patient, I was drained and frustrated and finally forced out of my room by bullies.

Most everyone blames Quebec's politicians for the brutal cuts to the hospital's budget. A couple of years ago, it was reported that 2000 patients died because their treatments had to be delayed so long, they couldn't be saved.

Since anyone can fall ill and end up in a hospital in Quebec - perhaps too late to survive - voters would be wise to ask about the health of Quebec politicians and their families. How was Parizeau treated when he was a patient at the Jewish General Hospital? Was he left in wet diapers too?

You might also question the financial status of hospital administrators and their friends. As I wrote as far back as 2015 in the case of Donald Trump - FOLLOW THE MONEY.

I suggest you read these reports in chronologial order as much as possible. 

JEWISH GENERAL HOSPITAL - "MORT ! MORT !" MORT !"

January 15-16, 2019. 

With the gang visiting patient 8828A being more and more arrogant, loud, daring - sitting or standing blocking the door to the hallway at all hours - I asked that a light be left on for me at night. The gang complained. I agreed that the bathroom light be turned out, but the light over my bed be left on.

Shortly after the gang left late in the evening, the patient made a phone call - probably on a cell phone as the house phones are turned off at 10:00 pm. I did not understand the conversation - most likely in Portuguese - but he stated angrily about five times in the course of the conversation -"MORT! MORT! MORT!"

Very soon after that an orderly – tall, bald, male - built like a football player, eye glasses - likely Haitian - marched into my space and stated in an authoritative tone - "NO LIGHTS!"- and he left me in total pitch darkness with the patient who had just declared, "MORT! MORT! MORT!"

I fled the room. I spent the night in a chair in front of the nurses' station where I felt comfortable with the naked and the bewildered. I had my meals there and only returned to the room briefly to use the bathroom, accompanied by orderlies. Very late at night, nurses assured me the man was fast asleep and so, exhausted, I returned to my bed for a brief time.

There followed a couple of days more of confusion as I was told twice that I was going home and then I wasn't going home and then I was. So, I have tried to keep track of the dates as accurately as I could.

And so we come to my last day at 8NW, January 17, 2019.

JEWISH GENERAL HOSPITAL - A FEW IMPORTANT POINTS

VISITORS UNLIMITED:

Tormented by noisy visitors from as early as 6:30 a.m. until night, I was shocked to learn that there is absolutely no limit to when visitors can come and how long they may stay, no requirement to wear masks as they cough and sneeze and no limit to how many people can stand around your room shouting in Portuguese, Spanish, French and English.

My neighbour after the New Year's Eve robbery seemed a pleasant man with a pleasant family. However, his visitors - family, friends, co-workers - took over the room, stood and sat blocking my way to the hall - four abreast - yelling at each other at such high volume that no one could hear me pleading for help. I was finally driven to plough my way past them with my walker.

From my handwritten notes:

I came to JGH by ambulance on December 27. No time to bring any change of clothes - so there I was - in diapers!

January 5, 2019 - 11 pm

 

Waiting- STILL WAITING for a change. Can't handle the tabs.

Save the world. Invent a better adult diaper. No one available to get "pull-ups" for me at the pharmacy. No one available to measure my hips and decide which size to buy anyway. Everyone is on holiday, so I am spending a lot of time naked - Yes. Even in the hallway. It doesn't seem to bother anyone as I push the walker looking for help.

Did you know that, given the normal number of hands, you can't hold onto a walker and hold up a loose gown and a diaper all at the same time. So if you are trying to get help, you have to give up on modesty.

They tell you to "ring" for help. Throughout my stay, I tried.

The voice asks what you want.

You ask to see your assigned nurse - or anyone who might help. You wait. Everyone is on "rounds", change of shift, shorthanded (me too).

Sometimes the excuse is really valid. People are dying. I can wait. The nurses are sweating, exhausted. I wonder how Quebec politicians are managing.

The voice on the too-loud speaker asks what I want.

I say, "I want to jump out the window." The voice answers, "Oh, We can't let you do that." End of call.

She didn't seem concerned. No one ever came to peek in and see if I was serious.

Another time the voice asked what I wanted.

I said, "The patient has left to join the Follies Bergeres and is doing stripteases for the neighbours."

I guess they aren't worried enough about me to put me in the "rubber room". Would it make any difference?

January 7-8.

No change from 8:00 am until almost midnight. I learned later that there had been two deaths. It's heartbreaking. I understand and I know one of the good people who was there to help. Of course I understand. But there were people piling up clean linens, moving garbage, cleaning floors and doing other things. Why is there no one to help a patient needing a toilet?

January 20, 2019.

 

I am too tired to continue now. Follow as I tell you later about apparent death threats.

"MORT! MORT! MORT!" spoken on a cell phone by my side five times sounds like a death threat to me.

And then an orderly marched in and turned off all the lights in the room leaving me in pitch darkness.

JEWISH GENERAL HOSPITAL - ROBBED ON NEW YEAR'S EVE

New Year's Eve 2018-2019.

I was a patient at the JGH - 8NW. There was a woman sharing the double room at the time. Her man friend was constantly with her. Although she was a cancer patient and appeared frail, her friend took her out of the hospital regularly to his home and to a Vietnamese restaurant - even in the middle of bitter winter evenings. 

She said she didn't like hospital food and complained all the time about her shampoo versus hair conditioner. He chased down doctors in the hall and demanded more and more explanations about her medical procedures and treatments. 

They talked constantly about El Salvador, Israel, Manhattan, Miami - although he was a taxi driver by trade. How do you afford such travels on a taxi driver's income? 

On New Year's Eve, I left my bed to use the washroom which was located just a few feet from my bed. I left my purse leaning against the inside rail of my bed nearest to the other patient's bed - a distance of two arms' lengths, divided only by a curtain.

I returned to my bed in a few minutes. The only people in the room throughout this time were the couple I just mentioned. 

In a few moments, I reached for my purse and my heart sank. I was afraid to look. 

I'd had $140. all in $20. bills.

My fear was justified. When I returned from the washroom, one of the zippers on my black bag was open.

Five of the $20. bills were gone. 

I reported it to the nurses right away. I made a formal, written complaint in the morning. I thought it was to the Montreal Police but I was told it was to JGH Security. Joni of the hospital's social service department provided me with a photo copy.

The incident troubled me for obvious reasons, but more than that: I kept asking myself if there was any possibility that I was mistaken. I saw no one else. I had no visitors. I went nowhere. I bought nothing. I waited to come home and check before publishing this.

SKIP THE FOOD BANKS

BRING YOUR CHILDREN TO LUNCH
AT THE TRUMPS.

JEWISH GENERAL HOSPITAL - I WAS A PRISONER - DECEMBER 30, 2018

JEWISH GENERAL HOSPTAL CHAOS

OUT OF SIGHT RECENTLY, BUT PLENTY TO TELL. FOLLOW ME AT PHYLLIS CARTER'S JOURNAL. MY RECENT EXPERIENCE AT THE JEWISH GENERAL HOSPITAL - END  OF DECEMBER TO JANUARY 17, 2019 - MAY PROVE TO BE A "BEST SELLER". YOU MAY NOT BE SURPRISED, BUT YOU MAY THINK IT MUST BE FICTION. IT WILL TAKE SOME TIME TO TRANSCRIBE ALL MY NOTES, BUT THEY WERE REALLY ANXIOUS TO GET ME OUT OF THERE.

January 18, 2019

Dinah, the person in charge at JGH 8 NW and her team were so anxious to get me out of the hospital yesterday that they practically pushed me out the door. I was accused by one of them - I think it was the nurse, Hasib - of not wanting to go home, but that I really wanted to stay in the hospital and I was using excuses to stay. They couldn't get me out of there fast enough.

Later in the day I received a phone call at home from Hasib saying I was not authorized to leave.

Suddenly today, January 18, I received a phone call from the hospital telling me I am scheduled for CT scans on Monday, January 21. No notice. No explanation. Follow the bouncing ball - me.

No consideration of the fact that I just got home yesterday. No consideration of the fact that I have not heard a word from my oncologist about this. He has been away for weeks. No consideration of the fact that I require medical preparation for these tests or the fact that I could not expect to get a volunteer driver on such short notice.

No consideration of the fact that I am exhausted, worn out.

But know this: Thousands of people around the world will have access to all the facts about my recent weeks in the hospital as I transcribe my notes to my blog, PHYLLIS CARTER'S JOURNAL.

Follow as I share my experience and observations as quickly as I am able. It may take weeks - because I don't know when I will be bounced around by "the system".


 I WAS A PRISONER OF THE JEWISH GENERAL HOSPITAL.

I BEGIN MY REPORT OF MY RECENT STAY AT THE JEWISH GENERAL HOSPITAL IN MONTREAL – HEREAFTER CALLED "JGH" TO SAVE TIME AND ENERGY – WITH THE NIGHT I WAS TRANSFERRED FROM THE EMERGENCY DEPARTMENT.

I had come to the hospital by ambulance because I was having trouble getting from sitting to standing and I was feeling worried and helpless. You don't realize how important it is to be able to stand and walk and pick yourself off the floor until suddenly, you can't.

I will share my experience from this point and tell you everything, as much as possible in chronological order. This report is being transcribed from the notes I made by hand all through this adventure.

December 30, 2018

It couldn't happen in Canada! But it did.

I was admitted to the 8^th floor. I expected to see a doctor. This was where the unbelievable nightmare began. There was no doctor. It was the holiday season. Not a doctor to be seen anywhere.

Entering the cell designated for my stay, I was struck with a feeling of dark despair – like entering prison or the "gulag" people write about. Why? The room was clean, no indication of trouble – yet, The pleasant nurse asked numerous questions. I replied. And she was gone. I was left there, alone. No walker. No way to get to the toilet. I'm ringing for a nurse. No response. Alone, unable to walk. Long, long wait! Afraid to wet my pants. Haven't done that in 80 years – until now?

Supper in Emergency had been cold, dry macaroni – unfit to eat. My roommate provided a tangerine and a little packet of peanut butter. You meet kind people all along the way. A nurse found a slice of bread before I was rushed out to the 8^th floor. Here I am alone, my bladder aching. I waited. Waited. I rang and rang and I am waiting.

I tried to get out of the binding gown and put my own clothes back on. I couldn't reach the phone. A nurse showed up and got me to the bathroom. She "explained" how to use the phone. Nothing worked. The nurse was gone.

Before 10:00 pm

Desperate, I tried 911.

I am at the JGH and I want to leave. I have no idea of where I could go. I want to escape.

The Montreal Police said I need a doctor's permission to leave. The police can't help anyone inside the hospital.

But there are no doctors to be found. I am a prisoner – treated like a mental patient in the hospital that I have known since I was a young girl. Trapped.

I was finally able to contact two young nurses who entered my cell together – Amanda and Samantha. These angels found a full frozen supper meal in a fridge and heated it up for me. A taste of life.

Meanwhile, I keep trying to phone friends. My cell phone has a tech mind of its own. I couldn't get anything to work. Tech stuff mangled and muzzled my every attempt.

I finally connected with a family member. I ate. I was so shaken I spilled tomato juice on my lap. Voices in the hall are wishing each other "HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

It's Midnight, December 30, 2018. 

(Is this when I was moved to Room 8828?)

I am alone. I write. It's my breath – My salvation. I keep thinking of John McCaine. Five years of torture. I think of Yemen and thousands of refugees – bombed, maimed, starved - and thousands with no toilets as they make their way over painful miles struggling to survive. How can I complain!

Pride went out the window when nurses had to wipe my bottom! Good people treating patients with kindness and dignity.

I spent hours in Emergency with a beautiful lady journalist, Margaret, who looked like an older Audrey Hepburn and I shared in prayer and sentimental "pop" songs with a priest who doesn't want to be called "Father" but just "Mike".

Other guests I met in Emergency that evening were Monique and her son, Zachary. She was the one who provided the tangerine and peanut butter. She devoted day and night to taking care of her beloved 90 year old father.

There was Nurse Scott, a dynamic unit of polite, gentle energy I couldn't resist calling "Scotty" – with Star Trek in mind. He never slowed down to take a breath.

These ships pass in the night giving the hospital experience a feeling of purpose, reason for being there. There was no way to foresee what I was about to face in the following hours and weeks.

HOURS ALONE, TRAPPED.

There is something horrible behind this nightmare. YOU ARE IN HOSPITAL IN CANADA AND YOU CAN'T GET AWAY. The police can't – or just will not help you. The JGH and the Montreal Police control you, own you.

When the patient enters the JGH he/she becomes a prisoner of the hospital administrators. As I have reported here over the years, you cannot expect the Montreal Police to protect you.

It's past Midnight, December 30 now. Can we dare to hope for a Happy New Year? Do you believe that 2019 will be any better?

There is hope. There is Amanda and Samantha, Mike and Margaret, Monique and Zachary and Scotty - and one of the nurses who mysteriously left a Kit Kat bar on my bedside table in Emergency. And the gentle male nurses who will wash your bottom and not leave you feeling shame -  and never tell you to SHUT UP.

THERE MUST COME A REVOLUTION.

That was December 30, 2018, On December 31^st, someone stole $100. from my purse.

DO YOU KNOW JOSHUA AND GOLDA?

ARE YOU A WITNESS?

I SEEK FACTS AND JUSTICE.