I was cussing at the doctors and was not a very happy girl. They kept pumping it with more pain medicine which didn’t do a thing. After I had my daughter “Emilia” I was told by a nurse that she was sorry but the anesthesiologist wasn’t there and I would have to wait until the morning to have my epidural taken out. I had her at 7:45pm and my epidural was in until at least 7am. Now that I have told my story I am going to give some true examples and let you make your own decision on whether or not you want to have an epidural.
Life as We Knew it changed I was only a little girl with a long life and big goals ahead of me, but then something happened my mother passed away. To get the full reason on how she passed away I have to go back a couple years. It all started on a Sunday morning my sister, brother and I spent Saturday night at my grandmas so Sunday morning we were eating breakfast as a family. Our mother was in Kalamazoo at football practice. She was on her way back that is when things started to happen.
Nancy Cruzan's battle began on January 11th, 1983 when she was ejected from her car in a terrible accident. That night, the struggle had just began for Nancy's family. The battle that actually lasted a total of seven years, doesn't equate to the lifelong suffering the Cruzan family must live with the rest of their lives – without Nancy. When anyone almost loses a loved one they are put in a compromising position, we become vulnerable and are grief-stricken in every sense. Nancy's family was compromised the first night that Nancy was brought into the emergency room, they were afraid and rushed to make decisions that they weren't ready to make.
As if her excruciating discomfort was not enough, she was informed that her family had died in the explosion. Doctors argued over whether to amputate her leg, only adding to her stress and confusion. The hospital she was placed in was clearing out in order to make room for soldiers. Sasaki was about to be relocated until the doctor took her temperature and saw that it was too high above average. She was then shipped to the hospital in Hatsukaichi to see if she had gangrene in her leg.
After the original release of “The Yellow Wallpaper” in The New England Magazine in 1891, her intent and purpose for writing this story was called into question. Several physicians protested it and claimed that it would drive people mad just from reading it. Gilman set out to explain her reasoning by describing her own experience with a doctor during her treatment for a nervous disorder. The doctor told her to life a domestic life in which she had some sort of mental stimulation two hours a day but “to never touch pen, brush or pencil ever again.” (Qtd. In Gilman.
The prolonged miscarriage caused blood poisoning, and although the doctors operated when the fetal heartbeat ceased, Savita’s heart, kidneys, and liver were already failing. She died seven days after first seeking (and being denied) medical care. With maternal mortality on the rise, restrictive abortion policies that disregard these facts do more than overlook inconvenient
After being sent home from the emergency room and I had to send her back not even two hours later because something was wrong. My mom got admitted into St. Luke’s Hospital for Serotonin Syndrome. Serotonin Syndrome is a life threatening drug reaction that is caused from too much of the same medicine (which also means the body having too much Serotonin). Serotonin Syndrome was caused by the Emergency Department, not paying attention to her everyday medicine and giving her something she was already on. My mom’s health was all over the place.
After all that was done I just laid around seemed like forever. the doctor finally comes back and tells me that I had a fractured pelvic bone and that i had messed up some vertibre in my back and that I would have to stay at the hospital for a while. So I sat in the ER room for over half the day waiting to get a room that I could go to, they finally come and get me to take me to my room. once we get there the nurse come in
I had to stay in, stay up and watch her. I could do nothing.’ some participants said that the people they cared for had changed so much because of their illness that they had become unrecognisable, and that these changes added to the burden of caring. One participant said of her son: ‘He is not my son any more. He is just some creature, some monster. I told the social worker, “I am tired, I cannot have my son living with me much longer”.