[ad_1]
Iliana Zaharieva is a manager in a large Bulgarian company. He lost his father at the end of last week. According to her, the reason is the lack of a system that provides adequate treatment to people with chronic diseases in a pandemic state. A “24-hour” inspection revealed that other hospitals do not provide quality treatment to chronic disease patients due to the overload of those with COVID. On Thursday, Iliana Zaharieva published a first-person account of how her father died and we reprinted it in full.
“24 hours” expresses its deepest condolences to the family.
Here is the full text of his confession on Facebook:
My father died last Saturday … So far I have been gathering strength to say how he left. I know it won’t bring it back, but maybe it will help others.
He had chronic kidney failure and was on hemodialysis three times a week at First Dialysis Services, Plovdiv, a great modern place with good doctors and patient care.
He had no problems, he went in person with his car 3 times a week and returned alone. Hemodialysis is a serious treatment, it requires good equipment, preparations, strict monitoring of patients and care. My father had it and it felt good. Until the hysteria came.
On October 27, he went on his scheduled dialysis and was returned because he had a temperature of 37.6. Normally, you would never be denied dialysis due to a fever.
It has happened before, they would do dialysis and recommend a test and treatment for the virus. But not now. He called me and we immediately started doing a test, which turned out to be positive for kovid. What’s next from now?
They explained to me that the only option for a hemodialysis patient with covid was to be admitted to the Plovdiv Infectious Diseases Hospital, where he would be treated for the virus and dialysis, everything was organized.
Infectious, of course, there were no seats. I found, with acquaintances, with connections. He was admitted on October 28 (Wednesday), one day after the missed hemodialysis. The reception with “connections” took place after 3 hours of waiting in line. My contacts were at a high level, they saved his bed and he waited for proper care.
It was received on Wednesday 28.10. I think the next day they took a photo and found pneumonia, not serious according to the doctor, unilateral, so they started treatment with infusions. It was Thursday and he hadn’t been on dialysis yet, although he had already missed Tuesday.
After much insistence and reminder on my part, he was dialyzed on Friday. How does this happen at the Plovdiv Infectious Diseases Hospital? Kovid patients are lying on the second floor of the hospital (old building in ruins), my father was in block 1, for dialysis he has to go down to KARIL, there is no elevator and they will not come with the dialysis machine from the ward respective dialysis. .
The first time the man came down the stairs and went on dialysis. How, with what equipment, with what preparations I have no idea and will not understand. Maybe my colleagues in the media will help us do the research so that future patients will know.
All I know is that a doctor and some nurses followed him in his dialysis center, they measured his weight and blood several times, while here they simply put him on the machine.
After the first dialysis, everything seemed fine. They promised me that I was included in a plan for next week’s Monday, Wednesday and Friday for dialysis and that the treatment for the virus would continue. He did not answer the phone on Monday.
Because the covid virus is treated like a plague, doctors and patients do not have access to the room. At 12 o’clock you stand on the stairs of Infectious and wait for someone to be kind enough to give “information” about your loved one.
You wait, you wait, at some point a nervous doctor or nurse comes out, fights with you and finally says something to you. My brother lives in Plovdiv and personally went every day for lunch to get information and bring what he needed.
They informed me especially by phone what and how it is happening, because I have protections. Apparently something happened after the dialysis on Monday, because on Wednesday they told me that he was not quite right, he was confused and inadequate, he had facialis (distortion) of his face.
I am not a doctor, but this worried me a lot and I urgently went to Plovdiv. I was also able to alert them, because on the fourth day after his deterioration, after dialysis on Monday, they decided to take him for a scan (to rule out a stroke) and do the missed dialysis on Wednesday.
Thanks to this scanner, through which he was transported by ambulance, I was able to see my father for the last time. He lay on the gurney, conscious, raising his head in amazement at what was happening. He looked at me and recognized me, he smiled at me.
That sweet confused smile haunts me now on my sleepless nights. I walked over, grabbed him by the shoulder and said, “Dad, everything will be fine. We’ll take you to a study.” At that moment, one of the paramedics carrying the stretcher yelled at me: “If you don’t help, at least don’t bother.”
I took a step back, startled and scared. When I’m worried, I feel pressured by the ruthless hands of the system. I guess that’s the case for most people.
Self-confidence, authority, trust disappear before the fear of the loved one. I shrugged. Todor was with me and he was furious. I was going to attack the rude paramedic, but stopped him for fear of taking him to my father.
The scan showed no strokes or other changes and then he was taken downstairs to dialysis. Thursday. Dialysis from 1 to 5 in the afternoon, I went back to Sofia because I had nothing to do, I don’t have access to anywhere.
At 10 pm the Roma nurse Dinko called me. It was the only phone he had, except the boss’s, where he was protected.
In the room itself, none of the doctors gives their contacts, no one. Only nurse Dinko, the man who gave us information, supervised him, put on his diaper and pajamas, showed humanity and care.
Then Dinko calls me and says: “Send your brother here immediately with a blanket and two men, your father is lying downstairs for five hours, there are no paramedics, no stretcher and we cannot take him upstairs to the living room.”
I was speechless. I couldn’t even get mad, fear washed over me again. I immediately called the “boss” at 10 pm and told him what was going on. What followed Nothing.
An hour later, I found out from Dinko that my father was still lying alone, had managed to get him out of the front (because my brother couldn’t get into CARIL) and was waiting for my brother with the blanket to carry him upstairs. Then at 12 o’clock my brother left and also for the last time he managed to see our father.
He says he knew him and smiled at him. They put him to bed so that he would have the prescribed treatment systems. The doctor on duty was not present throughout the incident. Just the paramedic Dinko and a more or less responsible nurse who wanted to make their systems work.
The next day, Friday, I already knew that there was something very rotten in this hospital. They activated me to an even higher level, personally the head of the entire hospital is involved in my father’s case.
We discussed his condition, I insisted on transferring him to the dialysis room, but they told me that without a negative PCR test there is no movement from the Infectious Diseases Hospital. Now for the last time, I’ll call it the Infectious Disease Hospital. Because at best it’s an infirmary.
A place where the sick lie in a bed on a road and seem to depend mainly on natural selection. Well, my father was not a survivor.
On Saturday morning they called my brother to tell him that he had died during the night. I will never know what happened. I know the concomitant illness put him at risk and could be made worse by many things, but the doctors knew him too and did nothing to get adequate care for his condition.
Our system is not prepared at all for these patients or at least for the one in Plovdiv.
My only consolation is that. The night before, already activated by the highest level, they showed humanity and asked us to bring an electric blanket because their extremities were very cold. At 8 pm we found an open store, bought a blanket and brought it.
I pray that my father leaves in peace and cordiality. Heat from the electric blanket, not from the people around you. From this hospital, he and my family only received irresponsibility, chaos, lack of professionalism and inhumanity.
P.S. Right now, my mother is in the intensive care unit with severe covid pneumonia. An ambulance took her without any connections and for now she is stabilized.
The hospital, the doctors, the attitude, everything is different. No, it’s not perfect, but I don’t think I will have to tell a similar story about my mother.
[ad_2]
