Off Hours: The week of living dangerously

Editor’s Note: This is the second of a two-part series.
After being treated briefly at Santa Cruz Dominican Hospital for the hip injuries I mentioned in last week’s column, I was transferred to Stanford hospital in Palo Alto. Having spent a number of teenage years in and around that area, I had an almost innate sense of reverence for the facility, once on a par with Johns Hopkins and other top-tier U.S. hospitals.
During my eight-day stay at Stanford, it became clear that it is far from being the pride of America’s medical facilities these days. I’ve no doubt that Stanford University still turns out some of the best medical interns in the country, and I’m sure the hospital staff remains chock-a-block with superior surgeons.
My own operation was far from routine, and the highly touted principal surgeon certainly seems to have done nice work — just three weeks after going under the knife, I have minimal pain and am recovering nicely. But I would label such work “health saving” or “health repair.” When it comes to “health care,” there was evidence of serious deficiency.
Anyone who has spent time in a hospital lately will know they are the wrong place for getting one of the most common doctor prescriptions: rest. On the contrary, hospital staff seem to consider patient rest and comfort an afterthought to the conduct of their routine rounds of checking blood pressure and pulse.
Medications are prescribed for administration at ridiculous hours (I was woken at 1:30 a.m. each night for a belly injection of blood-clot inhibitor that could as easily and effectively have been administered at a more reasonable hour), and the noise is incessant. Virtually every piece of hospital equipment includes an audible “beep” to indicate trouble, but the only real purpose of the beep is to annoy the patient — no one else seems to monitor it.
Of course, patients have a call button, but at Stanford the response was always one of annoyance — and if there was a verbal reply at all, it was invariably a terse, “I’ll let your nurse know.”
Indeed, a recent nationwide survey reported in the San Jose Mercury News found that average daytime hospital sound levels have risen from 57 decibels in 1960 to 72 today, the equivalent of a busy restaurant or cafeteria. Nighttime levels are up from 42 decibels to 60. The Environmental Protection Agency recommends that noise at any hour not exceed 45 decibels, more like a library.
The same study found that Stanford, and particularly the orthopedic surgery area where I was, was among the noisiest of those surveyed. It reported Stanford’s cardiac care area a cacophony of beeping monitors and the neurology area to have a pneumatic tube system rumbling and roaring like a BART train.
Research shows that noise doesn’t merely impair rest and recuperation, but boosts stress and exacerbates patient agitation. Laboratory experiments concluded that wounds heal more slowly if subjects are in a noisy environment, and other studies have found that noise also raises the risk of medical errors.
As was the case at Dominican, communication at Stanford, even in response to direct questions, was nonexistent. Doctors spoke almost not at all. Both facilities asked repeatedly if I understood the downside risk of surgery and both had me sign multiple forms absolving everyone of any risk or responsibility whatsoever. Not once did anyone voice the up-side possibilities.
Though the folks at Dominican thought it urgent that I get to Stanford, the staff in Palo Alto did not share that priority. Admitted on Saturday, it wasn’t until the next Wednesday that I went to surgery. Each day, however, someone suggested the possibility that I may be squeezed into the schedule — so, until Thursday, I was given no food or water from midnight until the next evening.
Urine bottles were routinely emptied and returned (unrinsed) to the table alongside water, food and personal items like a towel or toothbrush. And only when I raised a ruckus on Thursday was my bedding changed and my person washed.
Of course, we all go into a hospital situation looking only to have the current urgency addressed, but it does not seem unreasonable to expect nourishment, hygienic conditions and rest while there.
Beyond the technical procedures performed, patient care and consideration ought to be on the agenda somewhere — especially considering the massive transfer of funds involved.
Although the performing surgeon exchanged scarcely a dozen words with me, I am most assuredly grateful for the skills that went into rebuilding my injured hip. And I very much appreciate the Stanford facility being available.
Not once in the entire ordeal, though, did I get the sense that anyone was genuinely interested in my overall health. It wasn’t until I got back home and under these magnificent redwoods, three days after surgery, that I really began the recovery process.
The whole experience made two things very clear to me: Guard your health like the priceless valuable that it is, and don’t buy into the aggressive propaganda war being waged by the nation’s powerful insurance lobby — health-care reform, and indeed universal health care, are issues that absolutely deserves our serious consideration.
 Steve Bailey of Boulder Creek has spent plenty of time in recreational activities. Contact him at

sb*****@cr****.com











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