In Vienna: Prison.

13 January 2012

Here I am in the first few days of 2012 and finally it is time to share my thoughts on being hospitalized in November. I have nothing bad to say about the medical care available here except for those details that went against the depths of my very American nature. For example, the doctors pissed me off in their method of treatment because it did not involve me in my treatment plan at all. This left me subject to sudden random transport to various parts of the hospital for CT scans, eye exams, EEGs and other tests that were never mentioned to me before the moment of being scooped up to head out the door. Another example is the duration of the hospital stay in a shared room with 5 other non-English speaking patients (duration being the primary reason I refer to it as prison). I was in the hospital for 2 weeks. In an American hospital, I would at most have been kept one to two days for observation and scheduled for outpatient follow-up tests. My Austrian friends and colleagues did not understand why I was so distraught with the doctor’s refusal to allow me to go home. They explained it is the norm in Austria to remain in the hospital until you are completely better.

I am sure you can picture it: me with limited German language skills, unable to communicate well with the 5 other patients I shared a room with nor the nurses and doctors. Being woken up, fed and put to bed on a regimented schedule that was reminiscent of a horror movie psych ward. Feeling terrified not knowing what was going to happen to me as I drifted through a surreal state of “medical care.” I felt imprisoned there as if I was at the mercy of a parole board that held the power to decide if I was ok for release back into society.

Finally, after too many of my daily requests to be released being denied, I asked a colleague to speak with the doctor. She is a native German speaker and within 5 minutes had the doctor frustrated and agreeing I would be released the next morning. He was frustrated because, as I was told is common with many Austrian doctors, he did not like having his intentions questioned (this helped me understand his frustration when I attempted questioning my treatment after getting advice from my doctor back in the US). The doctor-patient relationship here is very different than in America…so much so that I was still scared I would awake the next morning to news that I could not go home.

Upon my release from the hospital, I was starving for fun and freedom. This lined up nicely as the end of graduate school, my birthday and a visit from my good friend Adam were approaching! My birthday party had most of my favorite Austrian friends (plus Adam!) in attendance and was an incredibly good time! In the following days, Adam and I went to the Opera to see Madama Butterfly, toured the Christmas markets of Vienna, and enjoyed a lovely day trip to Bratislava.

Before, during and after Adam’s visit my quest to satisfy my raging appetite for fun was interrupted with thoughts about what led to my hospitalization and my time within its walls. What I took from the experience (other than new nightmares) is that I must take care of myself. I need to slow down, pay better attention to what I put into my body and do whatever is necessary to calm my mind. Overall, my focus is on healing…I must fully grasp what it means to go beyond just getting by because there is no freedom when I am just getting by. I can no longer accept a prison of my own making.