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Still holding Mikey’s hand, I ask her, “What’s his condition?”
The nurse raises her voice a notch. “You must not touch the patient.”
I look up at her. She tells us, “If you’re next of kin or close family, you need to talk to the consultant.” Her hands are on her hips and her feet are apart. Her mouth tightens. “If not, then you cannot be here. Visiting hours are–”
I say, “This man is never going to recover without his emotional support animal.”
“Nobody told me anything about that.”
“I’m telling you now.”
“I will have to call the consultant.”
“You can call whoever you like. I’m getting his dog brought here.”
“Hospital regulations –”
“If the hospital regulations don’t allow his dog in here, then we’re going to have to take him out of the hospital. And you should expect a suit for malpractice.”
The nurse hurries away. Less than a minute later, a tall, heavily built ward sister arrives. She’s neat, smart and radiates capability. This is a woman in charge, without a doubt. Her name badge identifies her as Sister Tharpe. She stops by the side of the doorway.
“You all need to leave. These are not visiting hours. HD and critical care patients are allowed two close family members only. At visiting hours.”
I ask her, “HD?”
“High dependency. You see all those machines and tubes and drips?”
I say, “I want to get him moved out of the hospital.”
“Oh, do you now? And are you his daughter, his wife or his mother?”
“No–”
“You’re not a next of kin? So are you his consultant?”
I take a breath. “Is it possible we could do that? What would it take?”
She pauses for a moment. “He’s on very high dependency support right now. He would need a minimum of six nursing staff, full time. Two at a time in three shifts. As well as all the equipment you can see, he has care needs that would be hard to meet outside the hospital.”
“You’re telling me that it’s expensive.”
“No,” she says, “I’m telling you that it would be dangerous to the patient and I would strongly advise you against it.”
“What if it were your father in that bed. You know that he would be happier and more likely to make a better recovery at home, right?”
She takes a step toward the bed. “In this patient’s condition? No. If he were my father I would want him right there where he is. For the next few days at the very least. Moving him would be a risk, and having him farther away from emergency care that he might need at a moment’s notice, it could be a death sentence.”
“Don’t sugar-coat it for me.”
“I understand you want to do something.” Her head turns and she nods. “Trust me, moving him should not be it.”
“Then I need to get his dog in here.”
She blinks slowly. “We don’t allow dogs or pets of any kind.”
“He’s not a pet. He’s an emotional support companion.”
“Good luck with that. I can’t authorize it. Now. Visiting hours are from five till seven. Two immediate family members only.”
