I just got off the phone to inform them for the 3rd… 4th… 5th… I’ve lost track… time to tell them that John is deceased. Dead. Gone. No longer among the living.
Okay, they got that part at deceased.
One would think a major hospital who was his oncologist at the time of his death, and who’s home health nurse called with condolences, and has received the appropriate paperwork would realize that their client was deceased. One would think that something as important as “deceased” would link that among all of their many departments. You’d also think that when equipment that was rented when they came to pick it up, they would make sure they picked up all of their equipment correctly.
Maybe I “think” too much.
Of course is many ways, I felt like it was rather apparent that his treatment that he was merely a number… “orange card, please.” Orange card seemed more important than his name. Can’t pass go without the orange card. Damn fucking orange card. And… that is not even going into how un-individualized I thought his treatment was at times… sigh… the nurses for the most part were awesome though…
Irregardless, a phone call was made today to inform them yet again. The lady was professional. She expressed her condolences in a monotone and said everything would be taken care of. I said that Hopkins has the death certificate on file and rattled off the date of death. Sad when you add dod to list of memorable dates like birthdays and wedding anniversary.
She said it would be taken care of and I would receive no more correspondence.
Sad when somebody’s life is reduced to a death certificate. I feel drained.