Quite Please in Life After 60

“The worst time to have a heart attack is during a game of charades.” As opposed to? So just when is a good time? For me that became a reality 7 years ago today. When you think nothing can be worse than, “We Need To Talk” comes the words, “Mr. (___) you’ve had a heart attack.” So much for bed side manner. And you will find, as I did, those words change your life. In one tick of the clock, you go from doing what you want, eating what you want, to a long road of recovery and life style changes.
It amazes me that doctors want to keep you in the hospital so you will rest, yet every few hours they are waking you up to check your vital signs. Trust me, in this day and age they have machines that can monitor those without waking me up. Or my favorite, being woke up to give me something to help me sleep. You wanna help me sleep, stay the heck out of my room. Or better yet, send me home. I sleep much better in my own bed thank you.
And then there is the recovery. And it depends on the severity of your heart attack. After I saw the first hospital bill I had a slight relapse. $60.00 for oxygen, a day. Not to mention the fact 1 pill from their pharmacy is 4 times the street value.
Don’t get me wrong, I am thankful for doctors and medicine, but even with insurance you suddenly have out of pocket expenses that match the national debt! We need reform in the insurance industry and in health care. Or perhaps we should demand a refund or at least a discounted price while we are victims of “Medical Practice”. The word Practice tells me that they still haven’t got it right.