my breaking point

I have to admit that today I am both emotionally and physically exhausted. I try to do too much at night, and don't get to bed until way too late. Then I wake up early to go back to Valencia again. At first I thought I was getting accustomed to my new routine of five hours (at most) of sleep at night, but I guess I was wrong. Today I hit my breaking point.
For the first visit today, we arrived a little bit early as usual- just in case someone nice is out front to let us in a bit early. Unfortunately, today there were urgencies and nobody was around to either let us in nor inform us of anything. The entire intensive care part of the burn unit was completely empty of doctors and nurses. We had been there since 1:00 for the 1:30 visit, and when 1:45 rolled around, I finally started to get nervous. One thing that you have to get used to here is the constant lack of information. Only one person can tell you anything- Mauri's main doctor, and he is rarely around.
At about 1:50, someone finally came, and I was already quite upset. (You worry that something bad might have happened during the cleaning session with sedation). We have to catch a very early bus (tomorrow I have to leave at 9:30 to make sure I'm there by 1:30), so I expect to be able to visit him then. Whe they let me go in, I ran to Mauri's window, but the blinds were still shut. When they finally opened the blinds, I could tell that Mauri was very upset. He complained about the harsh treatment by the workers, and once again told me several acts on their part that once again made me come to the realization that I am helpless. They can do whatever they want to him, and I am unable to defend him. I will not share the details in the interest of preserving his privacy, but I will say that it was enough to upset me. We had been in the hallway for less than a minute, when they told us we would have to leave again. The special bed that he's in has been broken for awhile, but today it was blowing porcelain particles all over the place. Of course, they decided to wait until lifting him into the bed to decide to try to fix it. So, they said they'd have to move him again. I can't even begin to describe the look on his face. He was in pain, and was upset that they were going to move him again because he says that every time they move him- they pay no attention to where he is sorest, and push and pull him around as if he were an object. They don't try to slowly move him to try to ease his discomfort.
We were finally able to go back in and see him, but ended up only being able to be there for about half an hour. After having to leave, we waited another hour or so outside to be able to talk to the doctor (the weekend is coming up, and no one is around to help on the weekend, you know). The doctor said that everything looks good. They will transfuse more blood and will likely do the next operation on Monday as planned. He also said that Mauri will be able to start moving his right hand over the next couple of days, despite the grafted skin on it.
I was pretty upset after seeing Mauri the way I saw them (I have never seen him so upset as today in all of my life), and when I arrived to the evening visit, I was already near my breaking point.
Of course, they let us in 10 minutes late. We ran in as quickly as possible. Mauri looked a bit better, and despite the "turno" of 2 nurses with "bad milk," he seemed to be doing fine. He was just happy to see us. The nice visit came to an early end, as the woman at the front with an ego trip made us leave on time. So, yes she was very punctual with kicking us out, despite her lack of punctuality when letting us in. By that point I was so furious that I couldn't help grumbling a "so today we couldn't even have a full hour at one of the visits."
She was very happy to tell us that these were the rules here and that that was the way it goes. I said that if I can't even go in and see him, the least they could do was to allow me to have my full hour visit. She then responded that of course I couldn't go in- because that was better for him- to protect Mauri from any infections. Of course infuriated (I have a hard time biting my tongue when I get to this point), I responded that if it were really for the sake of infection control, it seemed like there should be rules for everyone, because it makes no sense to me that those that work here can go out and smoke every hour in their scrubs and then walk back in and touch Mauri with their bare hands, without putting anything over their scrubs nor putting on gloves nor pulling their hair back!!! To me that seems much more dangerous for him that it is to let me in with my hair pulled back, a gown and gloves on. She of course couldn't comprehend the logic, so I mentioned something I shouldn't have: when unwrapped for a cleaning session, a woman did an electrocardiogram on Mauri in street clothes. The other workers told her to put a gown on, but she refused. Of course, the only way I could have known this is if he told me. He didn't want me to say anything because he's scared of what they'll do to him. He has no way of defending himself- nor do I of protecting him. She obviously didn't think that that was a big deal, though, and said that I should go complain if it bothers me that much, but that they only do what the rules tell them.
I left the hospital tonight, mad at the people who work there, mad at myself for not being able to keep quiet, and just generally mad.
On the brighter side, I can start to appreciate the fact that the hospital shuts down on the weekend: the next 2 days they won't do the curas (cleanings). (That would entitle working on a weekend.) So, Mauri will have a little bit of a break from the extreme pain they cause. Just knowing that makes me happier.