At the time, I worked in sales, which required me to travel all over California to promote my product. On one particular trip, I had to travel to Oxnard, California. A couple of days into the trip, I started bleeding. My sister urged me to go to the doctor right away. It was late at night—around 10:00 or 11:00 PM—when I checked myself into the emergency room.
Initially, I thought I was having a good experience. They performed an ultrasound and ran a blood test, which showed my hCG level was at 546. After that, I sat in the lobby for several hours. I lost track of time because I kept falling asleep. A man was sitting in the lobby who was gagging and throwing up all night. I could hear the nurses saying to get him out of there; nobody wanted to help him or go near him. It was difficult to rest because the commotion kept waking me up.
Finally, the head nurse came over to me. She told me that I just needed to go home, wait, and see what happened. “It’s too soon to tell,” were her exact words.
I went back to where I was staying, but I had to return to the hospital over the next couple of days because the light bleeding had turned into heavy bleeding and large blood clots. I eventually found out that I had a blockage inside my fallopian tube, which caused me to miscarry. Additionally, my blood sugar level was over 400. My sugar had been high during my very first visit, but they sent me home anyway without properly ensuring that I was stable.
My sister later mentioned that the hospital should have kept me or monitored me to see if my hCG levels were rising or falling. In reality, I was likely already miscarrying during that first visit. I guess because the emergency room was full, they couldn’t be bothered and just sent me home without proper care.
The daytime staff was much more accommodating and gave me all the answers I needed. Still, I always wonder if I would have had a better outcome if the night staff had done their job the first time. Instead, I was sent home in the middle of a miscarriage and with dangerously high blood sugar. That is why I find the name so ironic: Dignity Health.
In August 2025, my period was late. At first, I took a pregnancy test and got a negative result. However, a week later, when my period still had not arrived, I took another test, and it was positive. I was absolutely thrilled about being pregnant, as this was supposed to be my first child.
At the time, I worked in sales, which required me to travel all over California to promote my product. On one particular trip, I had to travel to Oxnard, California. A couple of days into the trip, I started bleeding. My sister urged me to go to the doctor right away. It was late at night—around 10:00 or 11:00 PM—when I checked myself into the emergency room.
Initially, I thought I was having a good experience. They performed an ultrasound and ran a blood test, which showed my hCG level was at 546. After that, I sat in the lobby for several hours. I lost track of time because I kept falling asleep. A man was sitting in the lobby who was gagging and throwing up all night. I could hear the nurses saying to get him out of there; nobody wanted to help him or go near him. It was difficult to rest because the commotion kept waking me up.
Finally, the head nurse came over to me. She told me that I just needed to go home, wait, and see what happened. “It’s too soon to tell,” were her exact words.
I went back to where I was staying, but I had to return to the hospital over the next couple of days because the light bleeding had turned into heavy bleeding and large blood clots. I eventually found out that I had a blockage inside my fallopian tube, which caused me to miscarry. Additionally, my blood sugar level was over 400. My sugar had been high during my very first visit, but they sent me home anyway without properly ensuring that I was stable.
My sister later mentioned that the hospital should have kept me or monitored me to see if my hCG levels were rising or falling. In reality, I was likely already miscarrying during that first visit. I guess because the emergency room was full, they couldn’t be bothered and just sent me home without proper care.
The daytime staff was much more accommodating and gave me all the answers I needed. Still, I always wonder if I would have had a better outcome if the night staff had done their job the first time. Instead, I was sent home in the middle of a miscarriage and with dangerously high blood sugar. That is why I find the name so ironic: Dignity Health.