My husband, Charlie, was an Environmental Engineer who worked primarily in New York City and the surrounding area. He had a work-related injury in 10/2022. As a result, he was admitted into the hospital on 12/26/22 (my birthday). After three days, the hospital said he could come home. Because he was a two person assist, the hospital required him to go to rehab for a few days. I was there every day for about 8 hours a day. I received phone calls all night long from Charlie, who was hysterical saying, "they are trying to kill me" and "come get me". I tried to take him home but was required to do a CARE meeting (really???) with my family with me to support the situation.
They had a strangle hold on the situation. It was agreed that I would have physical therapy come to my house. I was mortified. It was as if my husband was slipping away. I was told 5 days in rehab, but they would not let him come home to me. I waited day after day for SOMEONE to discharge my husband to me. The staff walked by me like I was a tree. Nobody listens but only ignoring me. And if I raised my voice to get someone's attention, was the problem...? I got loud about me taking him home at the nurses station. I said, "he doesn't want to be here" and "that is his right". Then I saw a man running towards me at full speed, not stopping, to tackle me. I ran into my husband's room from the doorway and jumped into bed with him clutching him so they could not take me away from him. I screamed, "I'm not leaving without my husband".
Charlie was out of it. They had been doing something to him like he said. Each day I went to visit was another covid test and I know that they were testing him multiple times during the day, and I believe they vaccinated him as well. This would come up later. Security was called and Charlie and I were removed from the building. During the exit Security said that I was doing the right thing to get him out of there. So, then we were home. Charlie was not well. His balance was bad, and he could not even use a walker. Health care aides came in once a day for PT and to monitor his health. Then Charlie took a major turn. I tested him for a UTI on advice from a friend and he had one. He obviously developed it in rehab. He had lost 40 pounds in the short time he was there. The only food he ate was when I was with him and water was scarce.
We went back to the hospital because I can't cure a UTI. He needed antibiotics. Once Vassar Hospital, Poughkeepsie, NY got a hold of him, they were not letting go. I was at the hospital every single day all day until 8 p.m.. And all the while I asked about the UTI and why he wasn't getting better; a new round of doctors (as this is a teaching hospital). I again tested for the UTI, which they claimed was gone, but NO. His chart said he was getting vitamins and for some reason a statin drug that he did not need. I felt helpless. The PT stopped. Then they put him on blood thinners. Then they sedated him. The night nurses loved him and said he was coming home. I came into his room on February 20th and hospice was there. I felt my body go weak. My husband looked beautiful in that bed. He looked like an angel sleeping. Hospice told me that he was dying. I saw some fluid by the bed as though he had been intubated during the night (which the staff left for me to see).
I crawled up in bed with my sedated husband. Nobody had been there for me. His family came to visit but never participated in any meaningful care. An hour on the weekends. Nobody seemed to realize that this was MY PERSON. These evil people were going on with their day as though my Charlie didn't matter. All the while I was advocating for his best interests and healthcare. Nobody cared. They were all on auto pilot. So many promises of getting him to a better hospital. But then nothing. They were going to do this or that...but then nothing. When he died I immediately said I wanted an autopsy.
The death certificate of a rare infectious disease - CJD. I still wanted the autopsy and had to send him to Ohio for that. New York State law required my husband to be cremated for a CJD diagnosis. The results came back that he did not die of or have CJD. I guess the hospital really did cover their tracks on this one. And now there is nothing I can do to hold them accountable. I lost 50 pounds in two months. I really thought the Lord was going to take me. Family had abandoned me. Nobody seemed to be there for me.
The only thing that got me through the pain was Jesus and the thoughts of Him holding my hand as a child. He has always been my strength in his horrible world. You really learn who is there for you when something like this happens. In my case it is just me, myself and I. And while I would like to sue the world for what has happened, I cannot in good conscience get money from my husband’s death. I feels dirty. Nothing can bring him back. And I also know that he is here loving and supporting me during this intense time. I am not the only one and hold space in my heart for all the others that have felt the pain of this type of situation. It's surreal. And while someone needs to be held accountable, my biggest concern is that this stops happening and others do not have to feel the pain I do. Make this stop! The hospital had no plans of healing my husband. This is frightening.
Poughkeepsie, NY