| First of all, my thanks MUST go to the man who's my primary cardiologist, Dr. Steven Stark... and his partner, Dr. Norman Abbott. For every step along the way, they are always quick to respond to even my most ludicrous questions such as the effect of tight socks on circulation and congestive heart failure. More than that, they have always shot straight with me - with complete honesty about my condition as well as a constant flow of compassion. Here, I'd also like to tip my hat to Dr. Andy Hazlitt, a doctor I didn't meet until just before Christmas in 1994. I like to joke that Drs. Stark and Abbott work on my plumbing while Dr. Hazlitt fixed my electrical system. He gave new meaning to "Duffey has a SHOCKING personality." Second, my family doctor, Dr. Tom Carson and his really tolerant staff for helping me through the insurance maze: I learned a life saving lesson here EVERYONE MUST LEARN: NEVER tell your physician what's wrong with you. Tell him or her where you hurt and give them history when they ask for it. Let them figure out what's wrong. My treatment for a severe heart attack was delayed a week and a half because I convinced the doc I had an ulcer and was treated for that. When I walked into the office 10-days later on October 21st, I was seen by Dr. Fastia who was handling the overload. I told him I had an ulcer. He nodded and totally ignored my diagnosis and ordered an E-K-G. Minutes later I was on my way to the hospital. To this day I am more sorry for the burden I gave Dr. Carson (than I am for my own illness) because I know he blames himself for the delayed treatment of the infarction... I hope someday he accepts the fact that I do NOT feel that way. Next, you have to admire the the efforts of the staff at Helen Ellis Hospital in Tarpon Springs. The little hospital may lack the tools and experience of bigger facilities, but the people working there do much more with what they have than anyone might expect. It was my first stop on what should have been a deadly journey. The folks at Helen Ellis kept it from ending that way. Special applause go to Naomi Pattison, a supervisor in Respiratory care, and John and Tom who show doctors the invisible with their nuclear medicine scanning machines. One note to chuckle over, but something which might need some (re)thought. I think it's great to have an a person assigned to meet you upon your arrival in the Intensive Care Unit. They remove a lot of questions with very little talk: "Just nod your head if you prefer not to talk. You are Jon Duffey? You are aware you have had a heart attack? You know you are in critical condition? You know you may not survive? Have you signed a donor card? Do you have a living will?" I answered with six consecutive "yes" nods and finally, "Living will? Heavens no." The woman then asked if I would re-affirm my desire to donate organs by signing a form on a clipboard she held in front of me. As I tried to scribble my name, I quipped, "I DON'T think you want my heart! hehehe" The morphine took hold and everything faded to black. When my eyes opened again sometime later, the woman was still standing motionless on the other side of I-C-U, staring at me with her clipboard in hand. I suddenly had this image of one of those ugly California Condors and yelled across the room: "Hey, I'm not done with my organs yet. I'm not going anywhere. You'll know where to find me if I check out!" She vanished into the shadows, probably to cut a deal with Mr. G. Reaper. When I did not croak but stabilized, Dr. Stark ordered my transfer to a bigger hospital in Clearwater. I'll never forget the three E-M-T critical care specialists from Sunstar Ambulance Service. Actually, I got to know them quite well - after this journey (by complete coincidence) the same trio would haul me from one hospital to another three more times. | May God Always
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Smile On His Helpers
Their names are Bill, Vicki, and Chuck... William, Victoria, and Charles. It took them until the third trip for them to figure out why I called them "The Royal Couple plus One... which is the couple?" I guess my obscure humor gets more so with drugs. Now, I arrive at Morton Plant Hospital. Where do I start my salutes? During many visits over an eight month period, I think I got to know most of the staff. I've gone through E-R, the Cardiac Cath Lab, Cardiac Rehab, Nuclear Medicine, the Electrophysiology Lab, and dealt with umpteen zillion E-K-G and lab techs, dozens of wheel chair and gurney pushers (sorry.... in-house transportation specialists) and the loving people in Cardiac I-C-U on Barnard-4 and the Cardiac Telemetry floors of Barard-3 and Witte-3. I NEVER met one person who was less than great! My memory may lose their names, but not their good deeds. That sounds like a medieval mystery/morality play. If the analogy fits.... If your company has someone like transpo specialist (always smiling) Cheryl greeting potential customers... you'd have a sale every time the door bell rings. She believes in her employer and is quick to let you know. And you roll into the elevator, and around long hallways into a scary procedure - feeling completely secure. If your supervisors are like Jerry, the Nuke Medicine chief who came in on Christmas Day to do my test so surgery would not get delayed... the supervised would follow much quicker with broader smiles. If your technicians are like that bubbly Greek girl running around with an E-K-G machine or that boisterous jolly Greek guy (Isaac) from the blood lab who sings before taking your blood... who would complain when the pain (or chagrin of having your chest shaved - again) is unavoidable? Do your workers have the compassion of the the people in the Cardiac Cath Lab like Lynne, Bob, and Phil (who deserve to be called something better than "technicians") who hold your hand and explain what's happening as a tube creeps through your arteries and around your heart on the big T-V screen and you feel weird as a balloon expands? Do they demonstrate the kind of empathy Doris, Nancy, Christy, and Karen who calm you with gentle words as they stand near a similar looking screen in the EP lab down the hall which shows the position of wires inside your heart that speed up your pulse until you pass-out or gasp for air? If not, they should. Next to last, there is the army of nurses who care for people with really broken hearts around the clock. Not one was a grouch to even the most obsessive patient on the end of the call button. My Registered Nurse/ Army Nurse/ Officer/ Medical Center Administrator mother was VERY persnickety about the quality of care delivered by people working for her. I'm sure she looks down from heaven and is thrilled with the care given her oldest son by the nurses who work at Morton Plant Mease Hospital. Please understand why I hesitate to mention one or a few who were really great.... because they ALL are! But... I remember at least one person to go with all but four letters of the alphabet! Finally, my thanks to the gangs at North Pinellas Cardiac Rehab and the group they joined at Morton Plant Cardiac Rehab Center in Palm Harbor (after the merger.) They pushed when I was slacking, and slowed me down when I tried to overdue my "comeback from near death." They seem to have an uncanny sense for knowing which is which, and what kind of "guidance" is needed. Their domain is sort of like a nursery: Training people how to (re)start their lives from scratch, at least folks who have a second chance to live. Do you think it's an accident that one organization would just happen to have so many "good apples?" Of course not. It's leadership! I have sent several faxes to that leadership to express my opinions. If Frank Murphy ever calls me, I will tell him what has not gone into my faxes: I attribute the great care I got to HIS guidance. |
