After my husband going back and forth, repeatedly, on a monthly basis... for 2 weeks at a time. Where, one of those times he was exposed to something and put into ICU for a week, where I could not visit him at all. His 'primary,...
Read MoreAfter my husband going back and forth, repeatedly, on a monthly basis... for 2 weeks at a time. Where, one of those times he was exposed to something and put into ICU for a week, where I could not visit him at all. His 'primary, and, big-time, his lung doctor (for which there is only one) would not give the go for us to do the hospice thing. Pretty much, the lung doctor wrote him off and kicked him to the curb when he asked if my husband was still smoking and was informed that he was. However, that he went from over 2 packs a day to 3 cigarettes, at most, a day. The last trip to the hospital, by ambulance, once again... turned into 2 weeks. I received a call from an emergency room doctor, whom I wished, so much, was his primary doctor and he put me on three-way, so I could hear my hubby. And vice versa. He told me I could finally pick up my husband the next morning and that we can go forward with hospice. Then, next thing I heard was my hubby in the background yelling (as best he could), "I'm coming home baby!". I was more than grateful, for my husband, in noway, wanted to pass away in a hospital. He, and me, wanted him to be at home, with me by his side, showering him with love every second of every day throughout the journey he would be facing with hospice easing his pain along the way, until he passed on. The next morning I received a phone call and was told I should get to the hospital asap for my husband took a turn for the worst overnight. I flew out of the house. Ignored any and all speed limits and arrived at the hospital where they stopped me and told me I could not see him until I take a covid test, which I would have to sit in waiting room for 15 minutes and if it's ok then I can go see him. With that, I began walking. I believe a finger shot up in the air and, along with a curse word and an "I dare you to try to stop me". I reached the ICU and there was the doctor. He had a look, which said it all. My husband passed away. I missed him by 4 minutes. Thanks to the hold up at the entrance of the hospital. The doctor said that he thought I should know that my husband asked him to please let him be able to make it til my birthday, which was just two more weeks. As for diving into what exactly it was that made things take such a sudden turn overnight, along with the wrong doings he was exposed too. The neglect of being checked on daily by the lung doctor. Oh sure, it was documented he did s, on paper. So to get more money for himself and/or the hospital from the insurance. Which, I'm not shocked they just recently got sued for just that. My husband paid the price. As well as myself. Not just for losing the love of my life. But for then experiencing what they did to my husband, to me. Let's just say, at the time when my daughter removed me from Oroville to bring me to the bay area in order to begin seeing doctors down here, Oroville doctors had me taking 22 pills a day. And a heart doctor was shocked when he saw I was taking 3 medications that I should never have been on while on a heart med I was taking. I, cold turkey, stopped all meds. Didn't ask for any record's of mine be sent to the new docs. Although, when the doc down here heard that Oroville hospital had put 6 rubber bands in my stomach. His jaw dropped and he said they no longer are to do that. And he showed me a medical sight where that's due to 18 out of 27 patients die from such. No longer are hospitals are to perform such. It is to be done somewhere, such as Davis, for it involves blowing up a balloon in the vein. Not rubber bands. For, if they burst, most likely they won't be able to stop the bleeding. Not only should that hospital be closed down. But, 99 percent of the doctors, who claim to treat patients, should be stripped of their license to even work as a clerk in the medical field.
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