EDITOR, The Tribune.

This week, I went to the Princess Margaret Hospital to visit a patient. When I entered the lobby, I was greeted by a very pleasant, helpful security guard. I said I was there to see a patient and was asked his name and when he was admitted. I had his name but was unsure about when he was admitted. The security guard let me pass and directed me to Accident & Emergency.

I started down the corridor which was lined with hand sanitiser dispensers. I attempted to get sanitiser from the first dispenser. It was empty. I continued down the corridor thinking that I would sanitise my hands from the next dispenser that I saw. The second dispenser was empty as well, so was the third, fourth and fifth.

When I finally arrived at Accident & Emergency there were surprisingly few people in the waiting room and the attendant was standing in the doorway of the admitting office. I approached the lady and told her I was there to see a patient. The lady asked me if I knew what ward he was on and I told her that the reason that I was sent there was because I did not know what ward the patient was on.

The lady then asked when he was admitted to which I responded that I thought it was about a week ago. She asked me if I knew his birth date to which I responded in the negative. I was then advised that hundreds of patients are admitted into the hospital every week, that admissions were not computerised, and I would need to provide more information. I made a call, got the patient’s birth date and gave it to the lady. She asked me to have a seat while she looked up the patient. I took a seat and waited.

After some time, the lady came to the door and told me that he was in the “men’s private” ward. When I asked how to get to the men’s private ward she instructed me to go out of Accident & Emergency, turn right, walk to the end of the corridor and look for the security guard who would show me the way. I thanked her and started on my journey.

When I arrived at the end of the corridor there was no security guard. I found a lady and asked her for directions. She pointed down the corridor and instructed me to go to the end. This corridor looked familiar and it turned out that it was as I ended up at the entrance where I started. I then asked the security guard how to get to the men’s private ward.

The security guard told me to go up the stairs cross the corridor and up another flight of stairs. I set off again, up the stairs, across the corridor and arrived at the end. On my way I again attempted to sanitize my hands using the multiple dispensers along the way. They were all empty. Arriving at the end of the corridor I was faced with multiple options for where to go. Fortunately, there was a directional sign, unfortunately there was no listing for men’s private ward. At that moment not being able to sanitize my hands, having gotten into a full sweat and going in circles, I considered abandoning the visit.

I decided not to give up. I was hot, sweaty and now more determined than ever to find the patient. What started out as a visit had turned into a journey and was quickly becoming a quest. Fortunately, I saw a staff member sitting nearby. I approached her and asked for directions to the men’s private ward. She was very nice and told me to go that way, turn right and go up the stairs. She pointed down the corridor that I had just travelled in order to get to where I was.

Sweaty and frustrated, I set off back from where I had come. When I reached the top of the stairs I realised that if I went back down to the security guard at the entrance I would be sent back to where I was now. There was a patient sitting in a wheelchair, a patient that I passed on my way up the first time. In desperation, I asked the patient if he knew where the men’s private ward was. He directed me back down the corridor that I had come from, but with one critical bit of information that I did not have the first time.

The patient told me to turn left before the end of the corridor, left where the bright light was shining. As I set off back down the corridor I noticed another patient walking behind me. Arriving at the end of the corridor I turned left at where the bright light was shining. As I turned left at where the bright light was shining I saw the staff member that just sent me down the corridor minutes before sitting in the same place not ten feet away. She said that she had watched me walk past the entrance to the corridor leading to the men’s private ward and wondered where I was going.

I turned left and started up a long-sloped ramp, followed closely by the patient. At the end of the sloped ramp, I made a U-turn and went up a flight of stairs. At the top of the stairs I asked someone standing there where the men’s private ward was. She directed me toward double doors at the end of a short hallway. Off I went, followed closely by the patient.

I went through the double doors and into an air-conditioned ward, followed closely by the patient. At that point I decided that even if this was not the men’s private ward I would spend some time in the cool and get the most specific directions possible. There were a number of ladies behind the counter one of whom confirmed that this was indeed the men’s private ward and told me the room number of the patient that I had come to visit. I thanked her, turned and started walking toward the room, followed closely by the patient. At this point I was not sure why this patient was following me, but I soon got the answer.

The patient was approached by a young staffer who asked him what he was looking for. The patient told the staffer that he was looking for the place where they could take out his IV ports. The young man sent him off in another direction and I carried on to visit with the person that I had come to see. After my visit I thanked the ladies at the desk and set off down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs I walked behind a security guard who was accompanying the patient that had previously followed closely behind me looking for the place where they could take out his IV ports.

The security guard accompanied the patient, with me following not so closely behind them, to the entrance and showed him to a seat in the lobby. I carried on out of the hospital bewildered by my experience. I set out to visit a patient and ended up on a journey which turned into a quest and became an odyssey.

Having read in the paper about all of the current issues at the Princess Margaret Hospital I felt the need to share my experience. There is much to be addressed at Princess Margaret, from overcrowding to a lack of equipment, old equipment, poor equipment maintenance, nursing shortages, doctors threatening to strike. I am relieved that it is not my responsibility to fix these challenges. Realising that you can’t tear it down and start again while delivering services I would not know where to begin.

HOPE NEVER TO BE A PATIENT

Nassau,

September 14, 2018.