Another day for a recent victim of a brain injury. Today, however, was unlike any other day since I woke up from my coma in early October after a skateboard accident. We met up with friends for a few hours at our house in University Heights. Being the first time since seeing them, naturally, we went through the experience- the fall, the vomit, the tracheotomy, the coma, the craniectomy, the brain surgery, and now this feeble attempt at rehab. They called me Rocky Dennis because of my mishaped head. We laughed- some cried. They asked for me to break my board in half.
One thing that came from the conversation was the fact that this health care system is lacking in so many ways and I am now a first hand witness of it. This isn't just about my middle aged doctor, Dr. Lance Stone, who seemed to be too busy battling his mid-life crisis by gelling his hair and looking for new slick black leather shoes, or about the speech therapist whose insecurity outweighs her patient's needs to learn about their injury. This is about being a number, a policy number. This is about being nothing more than a bed-filler at night. So for those of you out there that are fighting the supposed attempts at health care reform, come to the hospital, stay a night, get a tracheotomy tube ripped from your throat, and then start bitching about government inefficiency, socialism, and any other complaints you might have. And if you really want to test yourself, come to Alvarado Hospital, request Dr. Stone and just try and leave a better person.
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6 years ago