First, Do No Harm…but they did it anyway!
The Beginning, but it was not meant to be the end… ~
September 2, 2021- the day that we buried our son. Late that night I got into somewhat of a vile argument with my daughter in the manner that she was speaking to her daughter – our then seventeen year old daughter (who still lives with us and we have been raising for a good number of years). I told Kylie to go into the house as she did not need to be a part of her Mother’s asininity and vulgarity, at which point – the sperm-doner – the child’s “Daddy” jumped my case and started his crapola, at which time I went over to him and told him to stay out of it. OOPS – that opened up another can of worms and he started getting physical with me and as I was returning his actions – my daughter decides to participate in the action – but against me as well. One thing led to another, and within a half hour – I had a minor heart attack.
Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho – it’s on the Gurney and off to the Hospital we go.
I don’t remember a thing until the next day when I awoke from “the Event” – only to discover a tube (catheter) up my penis with a bag attached to it – a Foley. I would spend several more days in the Hospital room – and never see the Doctah – the Schmuck would never come to check on his patient. Oh – you don’t remember this story? Well – let us just say that I soon became Tired of the Jive.
While in the Hospital, I was introduced to the man who would be my first Urologist – but not my last. I tolerated this low-life money-grubber (not fully knowing any better) for some months until I was referred by Dr. Kennett (my family Physician) to another Doctah, who kept exactly one appointment with me – the very first one, afterwards – whenever I came in for checkups and Catheter changes – he would walk past me and say, “Hi Mr. Bennett.” The next time that he kept an appointment with me – I was on the operating table for ‘service’ to my Prostate – on September 23, 2022 – approximately one year and three weeks after my heart attack.
Hava Nagila – Oy Vey – the Doctah was about to rake the Shekels in!
In mid-September I entered the hospital for 3 days for surgery – the surgery which never would have been necessary of Heart Doctor #1 had not left the catheter in me. I went in on Wednesday and got out on Friday. The shekel-grubber “performed” 10 surgeries that day – and frankly – he is a basTURD who should be stripped of his license. To the best of my knowledge – he caused intense and continual bleeding for all of us – and my room mate was the worst. The staff at the Hospital were quite angry with him for what they considered his unprofessional actions.
The next morning – Uranus came strolling through all of our rooms telling us all how, “good we looked and that he would see us” on Monday or Tuesday or whatever day the following week – to remove our catheters.
I would have been let out of the hospital at the end of day two, except that this a-hole stressed me so much with his dog-and-pony act and the BS remark that he had spit out, that I was moved to different floor to monitor my heart through the next day.
STAGE 2: Sunday night, I entered the Emergency Room for excessive blood in the urine. Oh that catheter was so beautiful. Well, you know that they keep you in ER for about 5 hours – gotta keep the dinero flowing. After two hours of “flushing” me out with some kind of clear liquid – the catheter was looking quite pale and fairly normal – so they told me that I was in good shape and that I could get up off of the ER bed and get ready to go home. The moment I put my foot on the floor I began to instantly flow red once again, at which time they told me that it was not a problem, and that I was just getting rid of some excess…
…and I was back on Monday night and once again on Tuesday. Same story each night – just a different day – a different ER Dr., but it was about to get worse…
I was released at 9:30 Tuesday morning and stopped at my own Family Physician’s office as I left the hospital (across the parking lot), picked up my phone and spoke with Brittany at the front desk and asked her if she could come out to my car for a moment. She gladly did so and I gave her a shorter version of this story than I have given you.
With one more stop before I went home (to my Colonoscopy DR.’s office) to lock in my appointment with them for some clean out in January (which later BTW way – I postponed – and have subsequently done that again) – I them headed home to “return to my work.”
PARTIAL SIDE TRACK: I got on the computer for about 20 minutes, and then looked at the foley – and it was blood red. So I phoned the office of Dr. Shekelmeister – knowing that I would get the answering service. My Dr. was not at my local office that day, but was at another of the four offices that he “practices” at, but the answering services phoned me back shortly and instructed me to get out to the office that he was “working” at that day. It was a long drives of about 20 or 25 minutes – and traffic was booking along at about 80 miles an hour and I kept up – but I just wanted to urinate the whole time – but nothing was passing – just burning like hell. I got to his office – which I had been to one time before for a urine test back in April – “Drop your pants and let’s see how strong that you can pee into this can.” – which back then I was unable to do – and told her why – because my urine and my bowels were blocking each other off – and I was unable to do either – and she wouldn’t let me go try to POOP.
So she inserted the catheter back in me – and screwed up – as she shot twice times as much liquid into the tube than she should have – which cost me another late night trip to the ER the next night – with an intense infection. My urine looked as if was full of sand, so they ran a test on it – and then the PA and her Nurse discussed in front of me, as to whether they should replace the catheter or not. They didn’t – and I wound up back in the ER again that night – with a worse infection than I had arrived with. But this time – I would up at a different hospital as the one which discovered the infection was overloaded that night.
BACK TO STAGE 2: So I parked my car and walked to the building – and I was so full – I couldn’t even pee in my pants – let alone through the catheter… took the elevator up stairs and walked in. “Welcome, please come sign in.” I recognized three of the Doctah’s associates – each of which had taken far better care of me than he had ever done – and asked one of them to sign me in as I had to “pizzola.” Into the restroom – with no toilet paper – and sat down on the throne – and began to urinate BLOOD – not through the catheter – but out of my penis – which was totally by passing the tube. Well – at least there were paper towels and a brush – so that I could brush the toilet. I came back to sit in the waiting room, and within minutes – I had to go again – except that now I was getting weak and dizzy. When I came back out of the rest room – I must have been noticeably dizzy and ready to pass out, and one of my regular nurses – Monica – noticed me and my condition and said to Dr. Uranus, “You better get Jeff on the bed right NOW – he is not doing well.”
Within minutes I passed out – and apparently peed blood all over the jerk (payback really is a beotch – you jerk!). From this point – I was totally out of it and have no idea how long I was out, but the next thing that I knew – I was on a gurney – on the way to another hospital – not the one where he had performed surgery – but to another one – where an associate of his was to clean up whatever the damned Doc had screwed up to begin with. The funny thing was – that I only remember being on the gurney as they were removing me from the room I was in – and being taken off the the gurney when they got me to the hospital. The funny thing is – I can remember EVERYTHING that happened at that hospital – until the actual surgery. And it was good – and so was the Doctor…
AFTERWARDS: Can you believe that Doctor Uranus has not seen me since that day? Within a couple of weeks, the Catheter/Foley was removed and I have had no urinary issues since – but then…
So all of the above took place over less than two weeks, but I have continued to have somewhat minor heart issues ever since – but the good news is – that unto itself – it had nothing to do with the Catheter – but much to do with the amount of water which I had become accustomed to drinking while of the Catheter.
STAGES 3+: …and so September and early October were over – but something still was not right and I continued with my In-and-Out (Not burgers) of the ER for the next two plus months – and each time it was due to difficulty breathing. Keep in mind, that as a rule, I only go to the ER late at night, as I know many of the people – Doctors. PA’s, nurses and the Cleaning Lady – but on one occasion – I went several hours earlier than usual. They got me into a closed ER room, at about 9:30 p.m. on Sunday night- and finally moved me about 12 hours later into a somewhat more open ER section of the hospital – but this one was strange – as they put me back into a corner, which was in effect – a split room with a divider between myself and one other individual. They gave me an oxygen tube to breath from (which had now become common for me) for the next two and a half days. At about 2:30 in the morning on Wednesday – I was finally moved into an available room. The Nurse was pretty HOT – but I didn’t really care. “Give me Oxygen baby!” I finally slept for the first time in days.
By Wednesday afternoon – the decision had been made that I was doing fine and they must have needed the room and bed for someone who was in worse shape than I – and so they sent a Nurse in to “sign me out” – but THIS nurse – Fatina – took me down a whole different path than anyone had done with me at checkout…
DROWNING in My OWN WATER: Each time that I was attending the ER after the removal of the Catheter – I had one thing that had become quite common – each time that a Stethoscope was used to check my heart rate – there was an intense amount of “gurgling” taking place – and Fatina was the ONLY one who understood what was taking place – my internal body was drowning in water and her advice was to cut way back on amount of intake. Well, it made a degree of sense to me – and so I did cut down on the water intake – but apparently not enough.
On Friday the 13th – of all days – I wound up in ER once again – still due to intense shortness of breath. My wife made a decision to return me to Banner Boswell Hospital – the Hospital I had been saved from Dr. Uranus’s butcher job. There was no waiting – and they got me right into an ER room. I wish to hell that I had gone there months before. I was not released until Monday. The water was cut back intensely – and the Stethoscope was used to check my heart rate on a continual basis – and each time they did it – the “gurgling” was disappearing – to a point – where it was gone. As I many times heard in the Old Hollywood movie, Elmer Gantry and the words of Sister Sharon Falconer – “Heal! HEAL!” … and that I have been doing. I have done more physical work in the past week and a half than I have done in well over a year – and it feels damned good.
Over the past year, I have come in more contact with listeners who are in the health field – licensed MD’s and Nurses – and YOU – who have followed my journey – and if nothing else – it has kept my hopes up – and finally – GOODNESS has come of it.
My thanks specifically goes out to Doctor Fred Meccia, my Doctor Southern up in Canada, Chris Beaman and so many of the listeners who have stayed in touch with me during this damned fiasco. So for your part and your continued support – Thank YOU!