‘Escape’ from Mount Sinai

By Alex P. Vidal

 

“Nowhere can man find a quieter or more untroubled retreat than in his own soul.”—Marcus Aurelius

 

I KNEW I made the right decision when I “escaped” from New York City’s Mount Sinai Hospital early morning on December 1 almost immediately after I arrived.

It took several hours when I was already outside after I realized it was “a matter of life and death decision.”

I didn’t go there as a patient.

I came as a “health aide” for an elderly male Jewish-American, who has been confined in that hospital. Caring for an elderly dementia patient has always been considered a remarkable gift.

There are more than 16 million people caring for someone with dementia here in the United States—and many millions more around the world.

As there is currently no cure for Alzheimer’s or dementia—and only limited medical treatments available for the symptoms—it is caregiving that can make the biggest difference to the patient’s quality of life.

 

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I was instructed by the patient’s family member via text message to proceed on the fifth floor and gave me the room number.

I arrived at the hospital, located in Manhattan, at around 5:30 in the morning.

At around 6:07 a.m., I entered through the Klingenstein Clinical Center (KCC) on the south of Madison Avenue.

APV: “Good morning. I’m going to this floor and this room number (I showed the information on my cellphone to the male desk staff).”

DESK STAFF: “It’s too early for the visit.”

APV: “No. I’m not a visitor. I’m a health aide (I showed the patient’s name).”

The desk staff called somebody to inform about my presence.

After getting the go signal from a voice on the phone, the desk staff asked me to get a “screened” sticker from another hospital staff.

I pasted the sticker on the front of my winter coat, stepped into the elevator, and pressed the number 5 button.

 

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After coming out from the elevator on the fifth floor, I immediately sensed something peculiar: there was no sign indicating the patients’ room numbers—or at least an arrow sign that would guide visitors where or which room to proceed.

I walked on the right side and saw a closed door that looked like an emergency room, but there was no name.

I looked around the area and didn’t see anybody or a moving object. Strange. Did I hit the floor right?

I walked on the left side and finally saw two human beings: male and female nurses wearing PPE or Personal Protective Equipment.

They wore the kind of protective clothing, helmets, goggles, or garments and equipment designed to protect the wearer’s body from injury or infection.

In other words, the PPE worn by health workers and frontliners in COVID-19 units.

The male nurse, carrying a set of sealed PPE, approached and elucidated in a worried face: “I hope the family had explained to you the case of the patient. This is a COVID ward and is normally a restricted area. I need to tell you frankly we can’t guarantee that you will be protected even if you will wear this PPE. The PPE we are using is not the same PPE that we will provide you.”

“Inside, you will be together with the patient and there is no curtain or wall that will separate you. To be honest, I don’t recommend you to be here, but you can come and stay at your own risk. Another health aide also came here last night but decided to move out complaining he was uncomfortable and felt he wasn’t safe.”

The female nursed chipped in: “Yeah, we need to tell you everything for your own good. We don’t want to put you at risk.”

I didn’t know what hit me and I became speechless for several seconds.

“I won’t take that PPE. I mean, can I first use my phone? Thank you and excuse me,” I finally replied in a hoarse voice.

Without a second thought, I retreated and made a dash to the elevator.

Founded in 1852, The Mount Sinai Hospital is a 1,134-bed, tertiary-care teaching facility acclaimed internationally for excellence in clinical care.

The Mount Sinai Hospital consistently earns Magnet status for nursing care, and it is the only medical center in New York State to earn Disease-Specific Care Comprehensive Stroke Center Certification from The Joint Commission.

 

(The author, who is now based in New York City, is a former editor of two dailies in Iloilo, Philippines)