Some say it’s the European model. Most explain it as an effect of socialized medicine. Add to that cultural and religious idiosyncrasies and I call it craziness.

If you read my last blogpost, you’ll know where I’m coming from (read it now to catch up). John was hospitalized a couple weeks ago, undergoing major abdominal surgery. Even though we were at the highest rated medical center in the MidEast, medical care was still very different from the US in many ways.

Because we have socialized medicine, the doctors and nurses make nowhere near what they make in the States. So, the care is very basic. No frills. No extras. The patient is monitored and given medications, IVs are given, drains and bags changed. That’s about it for nursing care. Most people have a designated caregiver who stays with the patient throughout their hospital stay. It’s a bit on the crazy side.

I was the caregiver for my husband. I fed him and helped him out of bed. I supported him on his walks around the hall; showered him; changed his bed linens (I brought pillows and blankets, towels and washcloths from home… through experience). When he needed something from the nurse, I went and got it… all typical for the caregiver. Things nurses or attendees would do elsewhere. As there was no TV, I would read to him (Mark Twain’s Innocents Abroad) and raise or lower the bed.

Following last weeks’ debacle on Shabbat when I was caught in a world where everything was closed, I started panicking Sunday night. Perhaps it was exhaustion from sitting/sleeping bedside in a plastic chair, but my imagination was running fast and free. The High Holy Days we’re fast approaching. Friday and Saturday Shabbat followed by Sunday through Tuesday Rosh HaShannah. Yikes. What would that look like at the hospital? I’d be trapped in all respects!

All transportation would be down. All shops, stores, restaurants would be closed for five days. They would be on a skeletal nursing staff… I found out later there would be four nurses and one intern on the floor per shift. The only food for the caregivers would be that which was brought in by friends and relatives beforehand. What would I do?

There was talk on Tuesday about placing stable patients on “khofesh” or vacation/break/holiday from the hospital. So, if John was stable enough, he would be allowed to go home on “vacay” so to speak. Thursday evening until Wednesday morning. He’d still be admitted. Same room. Same everything. He’d just get to go home. I’m completely serious. It sounded like pure craziness.

I learned how to put the medicine in the little cup on the mask and give breathing treatments by nebulizer …. every four hours. No biggie. I used to do this with my son when he was little. Next came learning to give subcutaneous injections of blood thinner… once a night in the thigh to prevent embolisms. I can do this. Also intramuscular injections of another medication. Emptying a drain, a little plastic hollow donut attached to a tube inside the abdomen that sticks out of Johns side like a pocket watch on a chain and fob. Sheer craziness.

There were a couple more unpleasantries, but I learned everything I needed. A bit of IV morphine was given before he was “disconnected” and we were off. Backseat. Pillows to tuck in. Two hour car ride. Into the house. Up two flights of stairs. Into the bed. We made it. John was wiped out but home.

I had picked up catered meals for two weeks. I had an emergency nurse on speed dial on my phone. I had all the meds and all my instructions. I could do this! At least we were home and I could get some sleep in my own bed, take a shower, and enjoy a proper meal. And Max was home most of the time to help as well.

My parents always wanted me to be a doctor. For once, I felt like one. As of today, all is well. The patient is resting comfortably. I even snuck out of the house to go to synagogue yesterday for the New Year service.

The synagogue a block from my house is Sephardic/Moroccan. I had never been to such a place. Most of the old prayers and liturgy I remembered were there, but the melodies chanted and sung were completely unfamiliar. There were many additions to the services…. I really loved it. Even though there were separate men’s and women’s worship sections, all the ladies participated wholeheartedly. When I lost my place in the prayerbook, several different women were more than glad to help me out. It was a totally memorable experience and I cannot wait to return.

Tomorrow morning, first thing, we pack John back into the backseat with all the tubes and lines attached. The drive back down to Sheba should be uneventful… I can do it in my sleep by now. I have no idea how long he’ll be there. I’m thinking not more than a day or two since he’s already been home and all went well. Still, this entire process has been sheer craziness for me.