Hospital restrictions

I’m sitting here in a lonely house trying to get my emotions in check. My wife of 54 years passed away on Saturday at 8:39. Her name was Doris.

It’s only been a couple of days, but I can’t get over the anguish of not being able to visit her while in the hospital because of a policy construed by supposedly educated, smart people running Ann Arundel Medical Center. I was able to bring her home for the last few hours of her life Friday at 8:30 p.m. after being almost accosted by the front-desk guard because I simply walked in to ask him to call the floor to bring her down. Stay in your car he kept yelling!

The COVID-19 virus did not kill her, but the policies of hospital administration due to the virus robbed her children’ her grandchildren and me from seeing her while being treated at your facility. Did she get good care? How would I know? I or no one else in the family was given the opportunity to see her in person.

My daughter called dozens of times and talked to nurses, aides and sometimes the doctor in charge, but so many times the phone just rang and rang. A visitation policy that allowed no family contact unless it’s “end of care” is insidious. You have dozens of nurses, aids doctors, nutritionists, housekeeping and other employees that go home at the change of shift, interact with family and friends, go food shopping, stop and get gas and when coming to work the next day stop and get a coffee. And I can’t see my wife for 15 minutes a day?

My father used to say to me when I was young “man’s inhumanity to man” and now I realize what he was trying to tell me. FRANK UPDIKE Stevensville