medical city

I am one of those people who, by some stroke of luck or good genes, rarely get sick. The last time I was hospitalized was when I delivered my daughter seven years ago. So I am not a fair judge when it comes to comparing hospitals or medical services.

On Thursday last week, after a rather heavy lunch, I had a stomach ache. It was the kind that told you you had to go to the bathroom and free some space, so I went. I was in the bathroom for almost an hour, and was unsuccessful. By that time I was already miserable and sweating and my stomach was tight as a drum. Since I am seven months pregnant I went to the clinic to ask if I may be given a suppository so I would not strain so much, but when I got there, the medical staff got very busy with me. They said I was already having contractions. Fifteen minutes later I was in an ambulance, going to the emergency room of Medical City.

The doctors said I was going into pre-term labor. I was admitted, hooked in an IV drip with a uterine relaxant, and confined to the bed. The private room I picked had cable TV but no fridge, since I thought I would go home the following day. I understood that I needed the supervision of an OB-Gyne so that I would not push the baby out by straining to defecate (let's be delicate here). I thought a night would be fine. I called my husband, and the nanny came that night with a couple of books and a change of clothing.

Being on bed rest was strange. Since I could not go to the bathroom, I had to do my business in the bedpan all the time, and it was not funny. There was so much food. Medical City gave you three square meals and two snacks, and since there is a food court in the second floor, you could have Pizza Hut, Red Ribbon cake slices, Max's take-out, hotdogs, leaf-wrapped meals. (Good thing they did not restrict my diet.) The drugstore was stocked like a convenience store. A nurse gave me a sponge bath, and I honestly don't remember ever getting a sponge bath in my 31 years on earth.

The doctor said I should stay one more night to finish the drip, so I was scheduled for discharge on Saturday noon. I was already feeling fine after the sessions with the bedpan, and I was bored. Then the time to settle the bill came. I only had to sign the statement of account because the bank will take care of it, but still 15,000.00 for 2 days came easy to swallow but hard to digest.

The hospital charges were carefully itemized, from the gloves and syringe down to the washtowel and basin used for my sponge bath. The nanny reacted to items (1) cotton balls at 16.00 (which she does not remember being used) and (2) micropore tape at 57.00 (which she says I only used two short strips and therefore we should ask for the remainder of the roll!). The doctor must have stayed in my room for a total of 5 minutes in two days, asked a few questions, and signed the clipboard, and the charge for her service was 5,000.00. We brought home the pillow, the basin and washtowel, the bedpan, and the 'welcome kit,' which the nanny says are souvenirs of my stay. What, am I going to bring out the bedpan when we have guests and say, 'Look, I got this from Medical City! And my washcloth has a logo!'

Medical City is a hospital that puts the patient first. You really feel pampered. Not once did I see a nurse who is not smiling or pleasant. It's as if you're the only patient they ever had. The food, though bland as hospital food goes, was hot and very prompt. When they put you on bed rest, you literally don't lift a finger. When I was discharged, someone accompanied me to the Billing Section and out to the van that would take me home. My medical certificate was handed to me even before I left the room.

The hospital does not come cheap. But if you have money (or if someone else will pay your bill), the stay is worth the price. More than making you well, the staff makes you feel good. You are treated with respect, and you know you're in the hands of competent human beings.

So there goes my Medical City experience, and all because I wanted to poop.