Tomswife, I'm glad the palliative care doctor recommended the bipap. Steve definitely feels better using it, so it's just a day-to-day quality of life enhancement. I think of you and Tom often and my heart goes out to you - you've been truly amazing in a devastating situation.
On a separate topic, can I just vent for a while? I had one of the most frustrating and infuriating days this week, and I still don't have the problem resolved, and it's stressing me out to the max.
Steve has started getting pressure ulcers around his tailbone. He's almost completely paralyzed at this point, a little leg movement but no arm or torso muscles, so he's very hard to turn in bed. I immediately called our ALS clinic and they gave me a stat referral to the Wound Care clinic associated with the hospital. The nearby one couldn't take us for two weeks, so I tried the other location 45 minutes away and they could see him in about a week. That was Wednesday.
To make a long story short, we went to the appointment but due to a combination of inadequate directions, no signage, and lack of handicapped spaces, plus no a ramp in a crucial spot, which required a lengthy detour, we arrived at 1:18 for a 1:00 appointment. I had gotten to the right address at 12:50 but then spent ½ hour finding the clinic including having to load Steve in and out of the wheelchair van twice. (I could write several paragraphs on the details, but it's not worth dragging you through it all - suffice to say it was Murphy's law at every turn.)
Upon our arrival, the receptionist looked at us and without even asking the patient's name, said "Sorry, we won't be able to see you today, you are more than 15 minutes late." It was easy for her to know who he was because we were the ONLY people there. I explained that we'd arrived 10 minutes early, and told her the long saga of trying to find their office, and asked if they could possibly fit him in because the problem is urgent and we'd been given a stat referral 9 days ago. She disappeared for a minute and came back to say "Sorry, we can't help you." Absolutely zero expression of regret, compassion, any effort to help out. I was flabbergasted, and furious, and so upset.
She said we could have a 9:00 am appointment Friday, so out of desperation I said fine, and left. But Steve seriously didn't want to have to get to a 9 am appointment 45 minutes away - actually more like 60 during rush hour - which would mean getting up at 6 or 6:30 to get ready. I called the ALS Clinic and told them about our experience, and they were horrified and appalled. They asked me to call the hospital's "We Listen" phone number that takes customer complaints and can actually swing some weight to handle things, and tell them the whole story. So I did that, and the person on the phone said they agreed the way we were treated was unacceptable, and would bring it up with management of the clinic and senior management of the hospital. They also said someone would reach out to me about next steps, and I said the main thing I want is an appointment ASAP with the nearby wound clinic. I then canceled the Friday morning appointment which Steve was basically refusing to go to anyway.
I haven't heard back, I've left a message for the nearby wound clinic location, the bedsores are progressing from Stage 1 to Stage 2, and I am just frustrated beyond belief. The ALS Clinic has given us an Rx for a hospital bed which I hope will arrive soon, and ALSA has given us a Roho cushion for the wheelchair, but I feel like it's imperative to have a professional look at these sores and make sure treatment is everything it needs to be.
We've had such uniformly good experiences with our care at UCSD, not only at the ALS clinic but at the Cancer Center where we went for Steve's colon cancer 8 years ago (yes he got his ALS diagnosis the same time he got his 5-year all-clear from cancer). I guess we've been spoiled, because I was just shocked at the lack of care from the person at the wound clinic. I know we will get things back on track but thank you for letting me just dump my stress for a while. Deep breath!