Marilyn Smith

Years ago, I was an army nurse and loved every minute of it. I always felt I was doing something important. Later, I decided to drive a taxi cab and I loved that too. I kept treats for people’s pets in the front seat and at Christmas time, I always had holiday music for the children. It was a great job.

In 2003, I needed to have my hip replaced. I had the surgery at Bridgeport Hospital in January. I was apparently a “slow healer,” but by March, I began to have real trouble. That was the first of many times that I dislocated my hip. It happened again in July and then in November.

They kept saying “don’t worry” but that finally changed into an admission that the socket they had put in was probably too big. I needed more surgery. That was the beginning of endless, major difficulty and disappointment with my care and my recovery.

I got an infection in the hospital and it never healed. Nine months of antibiotics. After five more dislocations, another doctor. In October, the doctor thought he could go ahead and take the prosthesis out. This time they put in a picc line (so I could receive intravenous medications) and that got infected. Of course, I was then in a wheelchair because I had no “hip.”

I was in a convalescent home for five more months and then had many more weeks of antibiotic treatment.

Finally, I was told I was clear of infection and could get that new hip. But the same thing happened and I dislocated my hip time after time. The Doctor told me I was dislocating it so I could get the medication!

On June 9th of this past year, I fell and this time broke bones in both legs. More surgery. I had to stay in the hospital and became depressed. It was the first time in my life that that had happened to me. But I think it was an understandable and appropriate response to over two years of illness.

Now I am home and working with the VNA. I am using telemedicine and I get checked daily by health personnel. But I am not mobile. I can use a walker and a wheelchair but of course it takes a great deal of effort.

I was a nurse. I know about infections. Hospitals have to do more; clean hands, clean insertion sites. So many of my problems happened because hospitals neglected to do the basics.

I began to add up the bills paid by Medicare. After I got to $55,000, I stopped because that amount hadn’t even begun to include the medications and the convalescent home. One infection led to enormous personal pain and suffering and enormous cost to the taxpayer. Infections must be stopped!