Chronicles
of a medical social worker
Several weeks
ago a family member’s loved one died in the critical care unit of the hospital.
She sat down next to me with tears in her eyes and asked, “Mr. Social Worker,
what do I do next?”
As the
mercury in the thermometer rises above 70 degrees, frowns are traded for smiles
and winter clothes are tucked away in storage bins.
Students
anticipate the end of another school year. Teachers begin to wrap up lesson
plans.
Most
people call these seasons spring and summer, but to the medical community this
season has another name—Trauma Season, a three to five-month period of increase
in specific types of injuries.
The police
superintendent and mayor discuss violence prevention strategies while the spokesperson
prepares for interrupted nights of sleep.
Trauma is
often synonymous with bullet wounds and stabbings. Meriam-Webster defines medical
trauma as “an injury (as a wound) to living
tissue caused by an extrinsic agent…”
Car
accidents, motorcycle accidents, falling from balconies, burns and rape are all
instances of trauma. Traumas are assigned different levels and according to the
American Trauma Society’s website, different medical trauma
centers are designated as levels I, II, III, IV and V.
Austin
does not have a trauma center.
What does
this mean?
This
means, depending on the severity of the level, a trauma victim will either be
transported to a local hospital for stabilization and then transferred or be
transported immediately outside of the community for treatment.
There will
be screams and quivering from witnesses and loved ones looking on as the victim
maybe suffering from the results of a stab wound, fall, gunshot or car
accident. While emergency vehicle response times matter greatly, the level of
care must match severity of the encounter.
Illinois Department of Public has designated trauma regions
outlined in 11 sectors categorized by level, adult, pediatric or both.
There are
people who remain unaware of this aforementioned data.
This comes
after a 1-year-old girl was shot through the trunk of car in Austin and rushed
to West Suburban Hospital, and then in all likely hood, stabilized and
transferred.
As a
medical social worker in an Austin community hospital, I often hear the
confusion of patients unfamiliar with sectors and zones, medical necessity and
hospitalization criteria.
I hear
people throw around terms like Power of Attorney and remain baffled when a
medical doctor begins to discuss do-not-resuscitate (DNR) forms or
Practitioners Orders for Life Sustaining Treatment (POLST).
Patient
and family education remains at the forefront of the many hats worn by a
medical social worker.
There are
daily interactions on the subjects of grief and loss, trauma and mental health,
POA paperwork and the Illinois Healthcare Surrogate Act, Long-term Acute Care
(LTAC) Versus Skilled Nursing Facilities (SNF), home healthcare and durable
medical equipment (DME).
Some days
I feel like this information falls on deaf ears. Other times I feel like the
mistrust stems from the larger of the society that has marginalized people of
color in certain communities for so long.
No matter
where it comes from I will not attribute it to willful ignorance. There are way
too many factors to take into consideration before we get to the root of the
issue.
Some days
I just feel powerless.
Other days
I am overcome with grief.
And then
there are days where I know without a shadow of a doubt that I have made a
difference.
This is
the amusement park of social work in Austin.
Over the next few months, I will give you a ticket of
admission into the main attractions of medical social work through my eyes, as
much as HIPPA (Health Insurance Portability and
Accountability Act)
will allow.
I looked into the eyes of the family member whose
loved one died only hours ago and said, “You have to pick a funeral home.”