Local Hospital Changes Bring Loss, Sadness, and Uncertainty
When our hospital saved a life
We were so grateful for our local hospital that day, nine years ago.
“I’m having that same feeling,” Dave told me on the phone. “I tried to take a drink, and it didn’t help like it usually does. Now my teeth are hurting.”
Earlier that morning, I called Dave’s doctor to schedule an appointment. I was waiting for a return call when Dave called me. For the past two weeks, Dave kept experiencing a sensation in his chest – a feeling like he needed to swallow. The only thing that helped was drinking cold water. His blood pressure was fine. Yet, I was certain what he was experiencing was not GERD. I was worried it was his heart.
He called me from Lowes, just two miles from the hospital. I could tell he was worried. So was I.
“Can you drive yourself to the hospital?” I asked.
“Yes, I can.”
“Then go to the ER and tell them you are having pain in your chest. Make sure they know it’s your heart. I’m on my way.” [ While I do not recommend a patient does this, I was able to track Dave on my phone. I didn’t think of the ramifications should he collapse while driving, but did I ever hear it from my kids later!]
Halos all around me
By the time I drove ten miles to the hospital, Dave was in the ER and in a triage room. Ushered into his room, I saw monitors that showed something was wrong. Nurses were setting up IV drips. He had already been given nitroglycerin and aspirin. I had a minute to kiss my hubby and watch them wheel him to the cardiac cath lab.
Fortunately for Dave, another patient scheduled for a cardiac cath was waiting for staff to wheel her in for her procedure. Because of Dave’s symptoms, he was wheeled in ahead of her. Dr. Iskander performed a catheterization, talking to Dave through the procedure. He determined two stents were needed. Dr. Srinivasan was already at the hospital for the previous patient’s scheduled procedure and installed the stents. Some 22 minutes after Dave opened the door to the ER, he was in recovery, crisis averted. Indeed, Dave did have a heart attack and was taken care of at our local community hospital.
This was nine years ago in October 2016. After two overnight stays, Dave came home.
A different hospital today
Today, if Dave walked into that same ER, he’d be airlifted to Lynchburg. Precious time would be wasted to get him the help he needed. Our family would need to travel ninety minutes to visit him instead of just twenty. This results in extra time, expense, and distance for the family. The reason, sadly, is because our local hospital does not provide the care it once did. Now the hospital is a shipping point for other places. There, more money is charged for a bed because of where those hospitals are located.
Its beginning
Halifax Community Hospital, as it was first known, was built with the hard-earned money of local folks. Farmers who pulled tobacco by hand, built fences with hardened hands, and raised cattle along country roads gave money in dollar bills. Folks raised crops and gardens, sold their produce, and added coins to the coffers for the new hospital. Those who worked in factories and plants shaved off money intended for bills to give to the project. Some of them pledged monthly contributions so a hospital that would serve the community could be built for folks in this county. They saw the need for a hospital built by the people and for the people. So, they gave. This hospital was about the people who lived here, not for administrators in other cities.
Our hospital was built by the financial means of the people in this county. It was built for the folks in this county. Our hospital was never intended to be a stopping place for larger hospitals and more expense for the patient.
And soon demise . . .
There are so many stories out there for the reasons of the new hospital’s design and purpose. I’ve lived long enough to know that all we must do is follow the money. The money trail tells the story and the real why behind statistics that cannot be proven. It’s true that the reason behind a decision is more important than the decision itself, especially when the concern is about money and not about what is best for a community.
Instead of caring for people, we care about money. Instead of recognizing that smaller brings more personal compassion, we now have administrators who care little about what folks are facing in this small community. We grasp for larger places further away. There we can charge more per bed because of locality. Instead of local folks knowing who you are, we must talk to some unknown operator three hours away who knows nothing about the people in this county and hardly knows how to pronounce our names.
Babies and battles
Four of our six children were born in this hospital. [The other two were born in another hospital because we lived in another county for four years.] The night I hemorrhaged in my second pregnancy, we arrived at the hospital in under 15 minutes. I can’t imagine being whisked away in an ambulance to receive the care I needed while my baby’s life was threatened.
Our kids are grown and gone, and the lack of a maternity floor does not affect me personally. Yet, I care about it because it affects people in my community and county. I only wish those who live hundreds of miles away and who now make decisions for this hospital understood the folks with whom I rub shoulders. I wish they truly cared more about patient care and saving lives than making a dollar.
Families who consider moving here for jobs care not only about the school system; they care about medical care. What will they say when they discover that our hospital, once built by the people and for the people was sold to a corporation? That the decision was made behind closed doors where a non-disclosure agreement was signed by the board of directors? What will they say when they learn we have no birthing center or maternity ward in this county?
Once a 192-bed hospital, the new hospital will have only 42 beds. The poverty rate in our county is 13.8% and is higher than the national average. Instead of shedding light in the darkness, we withhold oil from the lamp.
Grateful for our ER then
I’m so grateful for the nurses and doctors on staff that day nine years ago. We are grateful for the quick re-scheduling of a scheduled cardiac cath to make room for my husband in the middle of a “widowmaker” heart attack. Before a helicopter could even have arrived at the landing pad, my husband had two new stents in his heart, saving his life.
I recognize there are times a larger hospital can provide specialized care. I also know that women will more readily receive prenatal care if they don’t need to travel an hour – or more – to see a doctor. It’s true that specialists are only located in larger facilities. It is also true that folks who trust a doctor they know will more readily go get help, possibly saving more lives. I recognize that that expenses must be paid, and a budget must be balanced. I also recognize the fact that folks are more willing to be billed for procedures when it’s in their own community. They trust professionals who see them as people and not a means to pull in more money.
When we asked his cardiologist about the blockage Dave had, he told us, “You are lucky because you grew vessels to bypass the blockages. Without those vessels, you would have died. You grow them fast.”
“How fast?” we asked.
“I’d say two weeks,” he replied.
Why I am sad
We are so grateful for the excellent care provided by our hospital then. I only wish the capabilities would be the same today. I’d like to see our hospital grow compassion and care just as quickly so folks in this county can receive the care they need instead of getting sent off to unknown doctors and hospitals from a helicopter pad.
Those of us who live in Halifax County wish for our hospital’s return to the concept of our hospital as it once was: a hospital that cared about its patients more than increasing profit; a local hospital with the dedication and range of services to treat our community with care and compassion, and not a way station designed to maximize profit for a corporation.
