Sunday 20th September 2009
I didn’t know if the myth was true about eating cheese at bedtime giving you nightmares, but I had a really strange dream during the night. I couldn’t remember much about it but I woke up disorientated then clambered to the end of the bed and ended up half way up the wall. Most odd!!!
My left hip was really hurting today. Up until now it had never given me any pain so I wasn’t happy that I had yet another part of my body was causing me agony.
Sitting on the chair was now aggravating my hip and knee so I had to ask for a foot rest. It did ease things a little but not by much. The chair was the only place I could get comfortable, the only place where I could get any sleep, and now sitting in it hurt. No more sleep for me from now on…
The daily routine in hospital was also starting to get me down. Nothing changed. Everyday was the same:
We were woken at 6am. The beds were then changed or made so there was no chance of even the slightest lie in. Breakfast was at 8am then we had to be washed. All this would be over by 8.45am. A cup of tea or coffee would be given out at 9.45am, and lunch was at 12noon. Afternoon tea or coffee came at 2pm, dinner was at 5pm and the final drink of the day was at 7pm.
Visiting times were 2pm till 5pm and 6pm until 8pm, and once the visitors had gone in the evening, the ward then shut down for the night. By 9pm most of the patients were in bed asleep.
I also hated the daily, and sometimes twice daily, changing of my dressing. My ‘pressure sore’ kept oozing black gung out at a considerable rate so my dressings used to leak all the time. The back of my left leg is extremely sensitive so removing the dressings were extremely painful. Thankfully the nurses seemed to understand – it probably had something to do with me crying out in agony when they pulled the dressing off – so tried to be extra careful.
I spent most of my time sitting, or sleeping, on a pad because of the leaking dressing. This made wearing clothes difficult. I did wear a skirt for a couple of days but the dressings kept leaking through onto the fabric, and the black gung was really difficult to remove (so I was told by John and my mam). In the end I just wore long t-shirts and put a blanket round my legs if they got cold.
Had yet more blood taken from me. It seemed to be a twice daily occurrence. Because my veins are so small and thin it took most of the nurses at least two attempts to get any blood out. If only they didn’t hurt so much when they did it. Where the phrase ‘just a scratch’ came from, I had no idea. It wasn’t a scratch, it was more like a stab !!!
One of the blood samples they took that morning indicated that my potassium levels were low so I had yet more tablets to take. Unfortunately they couldn’t be swallowed whole, they had to be dissolved in water.
I watched as Lesley, one of the staff nurses, put two of the tablets into a glass, poured water over them then took the bottle of lemon squash from my table.
“They taste awful”, she said, “so we always put them in juice”.
She was right. They were horrendous, and that was even with the lemon squash !!!!
Sunday, 31 January 2010
Saturday, 30 January 2010
Day 11 - Just like Christmas
Saturday 19th September 2009
My first night on the ‘firm’ mattress. I did get a little bit of sleep but not a great deal. The mattress was slightly better than the other two but it was still aggravating my back.
It had been over a week since the pain in my back started and I was still no further forward in getting any decent pain relief. I knew that I had to give the morphine time to work but it was so demoralising. I tried not to think about it, but that was easier said than done especially when the slightest bit of movement hurt.
After lunch (two small bites out of an awful sandwich), I was so tired that I went back to bed. I knew that my back would hurt but I was sick of sleeping in the chair. I eventually got myself comfortable on my right side and tried to get to sleep. I woke up at 1.25pm and saw two nurses were quietly making their way out of my room.
“Sorry, did we wake you”, asked one of them.
“No”, I replied.
“We were here to change your dressing and take your blood pressure but you looked so comfortable that we didn’t want to disturbed you”.
They changed my pressure sore dressing and took my ‘obs’, then left me to go back to sleep. I knew that visiting time was from 2pm and that my mam would be there soon after that so decided just to remain in bed until 2pm and then get up.
I woke up at 2.15pm and noticed a pair of legs sitting on a chair. It was my mam reading a booking She had arrived just after 2pm and seeing me asleep decided not to wake me.
I noticed this morning while I was washing myself that I had developed a ‘hospital’ smell. The cocktail of all the medication I was taking (48 tablets per day) must have coming out of my pours. I hoped I wasn’t smelling…
John arrived in the evening with a bag load of goodies for me. It was just like Christmas. In side the bag were: a pair of soft headphones for my MP3 player. I listen to it every night when I can’t sleep and the original headphones were digging into my ear while I was lying in bed; a new radio so I wouldn’t be spending all day with ear phones glued to my ears…. The radio was small enough to sit on my table or on the top of my locker, and it was battery operated so no cables to worry about, and more importantly, it didn’t have to be safety checked by one of the hospital electricians, which would have taken weeks to arrange.; John also brought in some ‘contraband’ food - a big bag of assorted crisps, some biscuits and some sweets.
Food and drink are not allowed on the wards. They usually turned a blind eye to it but I hid it in my locker and ate it when no one was around. John had also bought me a new pair of slippers. My old ones wouldn’t fit anymore as my legs and feet had swollen up terribly. Instead of my usual size three, I was now wearing a size eight. Even then I still had to modify the left slipper as it was still too small.
My mam smuggled in some homemade lettuce and cheese sandwiches during her afternoon visit. I was beginning to feel hungry, hardly surprising as I hadn’t eaten since I had been admitted, and I knew that I would enjoy her sandwiches.
Because food is banned, the only time I could eat them was late at night when I knew I wouldn’t be disturbed. I had them at 11.30pm and they were wonderful !!!!
My first night on the ‘firm’ mattress. I did get a little bit of sleep but not a great deal. The mattress was slightly better than the other two but it was still aggravating my back.
It had been over a week since the pain in my back started and I was still no further forward in getting any decent pain relief. I knew that I had to give the morphine time to work but it was so demoralising. I tried not to think about it, but that was easier said than done especially when the slightest bit of movement hurt.
After lunch (two small bites out of an awful sandwich), I was so tired that I went back to bed. I knew that my back would hurt but I was sick of sleeping in the chair. I eventually got myself comfortable on my right side and tried to get to sleep. I woke up at 1.25pm and saw two nurses were quietly making their way out of my room.
“Sorry, did we wake you”, asked one of them.
“No”, I replied.
“We were here to change your dressing and take your blood pressure but you looked so comfortable that we didn’t want to disturbed you”.
They changed my pressure sore dressing and took my ‘obs’, then left me to go back to sleep. I knew that visiting time was from 2pm and that my mam would be there soon after that so decided just to remain in bed until 2pm and then get up.
I woke up at 2.15pm and noticed a pair of legs sitting on a chair. It was my mam reading a booking She had arrived just after 2pm and seeing me asleep decided not to wake me.
I noticed this morning while I was washing myself that I had developed a ‘hospital’ smell. The cocktail of all the medication I was taking (48 tablets per day) must have coming out of my pours. I hoped I wasn’t smelling…
John arrived in the evening with a bag load of goodies for me. It was just like Christmas. In side the bag were: a pair of soft headphones for my MP3 player. I listen to it every night when I can’t sleep and the original headphones were digging into my ear while I was lying in bed; a new radio so I wouldn’t be spending all day with ear phones glued to my ears…. The radio was small enough to sit on my table or on the top of my locker, and it was battery operated so no cables to worry about, and more importantly, it didn’t have to be safety checked by one of the hospital electricians, which would have taken weeks to arrange.; John also brought in some ‘contraband’ food - a big bag of assorted crisps, some biscuits and some sweets.
Food and drink are not allowed on the wards. They usually turned a blind eye to it but I hid it in my locker and ate it when no one was around. John had also bought me a new pair of slippers. My old ones wouldn’t fit anymore as my legs and feet had swollen up terribly. Instead of my usual size three, I was now wearing a size eight. Even then I still had to modify the left slipper as it was still too small.
My mam smuggled in some homemade lettuce and cheese sandwiches during her afternoon visit. I was beginning to feel hungry, hardly surprising as I hadn’t eaten since I had been admitted, and I knew that I would enjoy her sandwiches.
Because food is banned, the only time I could eat them was late at night when I knew I wouldn’t be disturbed. I had them at 11.30pm and they were wonderful !!!!
Friday, 29 January 2010
Day 10 - New mattress
Friday 18th September 2009
What a surprise !!! I was still in agony with my back, and what a surprise that I had had no sleep…
Kermit arrived and was delighted with how my eye was healing. I told him I had had enough of being in agony with my back and said I wanted a firmer mattress, otherwise I would be sleeping in the chair permanently.
“That will be a little difficult”, he laughed, “as you will probably need at least three days of bed rest after the operation”
He thought for a moment then asked if I had had any kind of lumber pain before.
“Never - until I slept on these beds”, I replied.
The physiotherapist who was accompanying Kermit on his rounds asked if he could come back and see me later that day.
The physio agreed that the soft mattress was causing my back problem so would arrange for a firmer mattress to be authorised.
Later that day a ‘firmer’ mattress was delivered. It was still soft compared to the mattress we had at home, but it was a thousand times better than the other two. The physio then advised me on the best positions to sleep in bed so I wouldn’t aggravate my back.
I wasn’t expecting miracles overnight but I was really hoping for some slight improvement by the time I went for my operation on Wednesday.
Yesterday Karl had said that he was concerned that I hadn’t done a ‘number two’ since I had been in hospital. What is it with hospitals and your bowel movements !!!!
I explained that I wasn’t a regular ‘once a day’ person, and that I would go when I was ready. He was having none of it and said that questions would be asked as to why I hadn’t been, especially since codeine and morphine causes constipation. Consequently he made me take some laxatives.
Since taking one yesterday I was never off the loo !!!!! Thanks a lot Karl….
One thing I noticed that was different from when I was in hospital to have my hip replaced twelve years ago, was the issue of cleanliness. The last time it was average at best. This time they really did seem to be making an effort.
The nurses all wore plastic aprons whenever they came into contact with patients, such as changing dressings, and they were constantly washing and disinfecting their hands. This certainly didn’t happen the last time.
There had also been big changes to the overall cleanliness of the ward. Two domestic cleaners now worked on the ward during the day and each day they gave it a through clean. The commodes in the toilets were cleaned and disinfected after every use and the entire toilets were cleaned three times a day.
There were even spot checks on the cleanliness of the ward. Two domestic supervisors, both wearing white gloves, came into my side room and rubbed their fingers and hands over every surface and nook and cranny, to check for dust and dirt. I’m pleased to say my room was deemed clean and up to standard.
Whilst they were taking steps to combat cross contamination between patients with the use of gloves and disinfectants, they seemed to have forgotten about the medical equipment.
When the nurses came round to do their ‘obs’, they took your blood pressure, checked your temperature and pulse. To take your temperature they either used plastic disposable thermometers or a ‘gun’ which was pressed against your ear and the plastic ‘gun’ covering was disposed of each time.
However they used the same blood pressure wrap for every patient. They weren’t keen on putting it on top of clothing so more often than not it touched your skin. Cross contamination every time…
To take your pulse they now use a sort of finger squeezer. This again was passed from patient to patient and wasn’t cleaned after every use.
It doesn’t bear thinking about where fingers could have been. Ugh !!!!!!
What a surprise !!! I was still in agony with my back, and what a surprise that I had had no sleep…
Kermit arrived and was delighted with how my eye was healing. I told him I had had enough of being in agony with my back and said I wanted a firmer mattress, otherwise I would be sleeping in the chair permanently.
“That will be a little difficult”, he laughed, “as you will probably need at least three days of bed rest after the operation”
He thought for a moment then asked if I had had any kind of lumber pain before.
“Never - until I slept on these beds”, I replied.
The physiotherapist who was accompanying Kermit on his rounds asked if he could come back and see me later that day.
The physio agreed that the soft mattress was causing my back problem so would arrange for a firmer mattress to be authorised.
Later that day a ‘firmer’ mattress was delivered. It was still soft compared to the mattress we had at home, but it was a thousand times better than the other two. The physio then advised me on the best positions to sleep in bed so I wouldn’t aggravate my back.
I wasn’t expecting miracles overnight but I was really hoping for some slight improvement by the time I went for my operation on Wednesday.
Yesterday Karl had said that he was concerned that I hadn’t done a ‘number two’ since I had been in hospital. What is it with hospitals and your bowel movements !!!!
I explained that I wasn’t a regular ‘once a day’ person, and that I would go when I was ready. He was having none of it and said that questions would be asked as to why I hadn’t been, especially since codeine and morphine causes constipation. Consequently he made me take some laxatives.
Since taking one yesterday I was never off the loo !!!!! Thanks a lot Karl….
One thing I noticed that was different from when I was in hospital to have my hip replaced twelve years ago, was the issue of cleanliness. The last time it was average at best. This time they really did seem to be making an effort.
The nurses all wore plastic aprons whenever they came into contact with patients, such as changing dressings, and they were constantly washing and disinfecting their hands. This certainly didn’t happen the last time.
There had also been big changes to the overall cleanliness of the ward. Two domestic cleaners now worked on the ward during the day and each day they gave it a through clean. The commodes in the toilets were cleaned and disinfected after every use and the entire toilets were cleaned three times a day.
There were even spot checks on the cleanliness of the ward. Two domestic supervisors, both wearing white gloves, came into my side room and rubbed their fingers and hands over every surface and nook and cranny, to check for dust and dirt. I’m pleased to say my room was deemed clean and up to standard.
Whilst they were taking steps to combat cross contamination between patients with the use of gloves and disinfectants, they seemed to have forgotten about the medical equipment.
When the nurses came round to do their ‘obs’, they took your blood pressure, checked your temperature and pulse. To take your temperature they either used plastic disposable thermometers or a ‘gun’ which was pressed against your ear and the plastic ‘gun’ covering was disposed of each time.
However they used the same blood pressure wrap for every patient. They weren’t keen on putting it on top of clothing so more often than not it touched your skin. Cross contamination every time…
To take your pulse they now use a sort of finger squeezer. This again was passed from patient to patient and wasn’t cleaned after every use.
It doesn’t bear thinking about where fingers could have been. Ugh !!!!!!
Thursday, 28 January 2010
Day 9 - MRI result
Thursday 17th September 2009
Once again yet another horrendous night with my back. The new painkillers weren’t strong enough. All I seemed to be doing was asking for them every two hours. I was pretty sure the night staff were sick of me buzzing them.
I needed to go to the loo during the night. There was no way I would be able to walk there unaided so I buzzed one of the nurses to help me.
With the exception of one, Kay, who was lovely, all the night nurses on the ward were awful. They were never pleasant and had a bit of an attitude. Two of them arrived and weren’t very happy when I told them I needed help to get to the loo.
Once again I had to explain that I was in a lot of pain with my back which was why I needed help. It seemed no matter how many times I told them, they took no notice.
One of the nurses grabbed my arm and spun me round sharply. I yelled out in agony yet it didn’t concern her that she had really hurt me. The other nurse turned her and asked “what can she do”.
“If you ask me, I’ll tell you”, I replied furiously.
Kermit called in to see me just after breakfast and explained the results of the MRI scan on my back. The good news was the infection hadn’t spread to my lower back. The bad news was I had a displaced disk at the base of my spine. There wasn’t anything that could be done about it, it would go back into place eventually.
The cold sores on my eye were gradually going down. I wasn’t very pleased because if they had given me the Zovirax on Tuesday, there would have been a good chance that the ointment would have stopped them from appearing.
Karl, one of the Charge nurses, was impressed with how my eye was coming along.
“That’s all thanks to my work”, he boasted, “who knows what it would have been like if I hadn’t acted fast on Tuesday”.
“Sorry to disappoint you”, I said, “but the Zovirax you ordered never turned up. Mr Green had to arrange this yesterday. Had the original one arrived, my eye would have been fine”.
Poor Karl. I really spoilt his day….
Once again yet another horrendous night with my back. The new painkillers weren’t strong enough. All I seemed to be doing was asking for them every two hours. I was pretty sure the night staff were sick of me buzzing them.
I needed to go to the loo during the night. There was no way I would be able to walk there unaided so I buzzed one of the nurses to help me.
With the exception of one, Kay, who was lovely, all the night nurses on the ward were awful. They were never pleasant and had a bit of an attitude. Two of them arrived and weren’t very happy when I told them I needed help to get to the loo.
Once again I had to explain that I was in a lot of pain with my back which was why I needed help. It seemed no matter how many times I told them, they took no notice.
One of the nurses grabbed my arm and spun me round sharply. I yelled out in agony yet it didn’t concern her that she had really hurt me. The other nurse turned her and asked “what can she do”.
“If you ask me, I’ll tell you”, I replied furiously.
Kermit called in to see me just after breakfast and explained the results of the MRI scan on my back. The good news was the infection hadn’t spread to my lower back. The bad news was I had a displaced disk at the base of my spine. There wasn’t anything that could be done about it, it would go back into place eventually.
The cold sores on my eye were gradually going down. I wasn’t very pleased because if they had given me the Zovirax on Tuesday, there would have been a good chance that the ointment would have stopped them from appearing.
Karl, one of the Charge nurses, was impressed with how my eye was coming along.
“That’s all thanks to my work”, he boasted, “who knows what it would have been like if I hadn’t acted fast on Tuesday”.
“Sorry to disappoint you”, I said, “but the Zovirax you ordered never turned up. Mr Green had to arrange this yesterday. Had the original one arrived, my eye would have been fine”.
Poor Karl. I really spoilt his day….
Wednesday, 27 January 2010
Day 8 - Things are moving
Wednesday 16th September 2009
I had one hell of a night with my back. I hadn’t slept since I was admitted and I was getting no pain relief what-so-ever. I was beginning to think everyone was thinking I was making it all up and not taking any notice of me.
Even before I looked in the mirror I knew my right eye wouldn’t be a pretty sight as I could hardly open it. It wasn’t !!!
Both the lid and underneath my eye were a mass of huge white cold sore blisters. Without even seeing Kermit, I knew he would postpone the operation planned for tomorrow.
I was right. He was shocked at the state of my eye. I told him this kind of thing was normal, explained about the Eye Infirmary, and that a doctor had looked at it yesterday, and that I was waiting for some ointment. He was not a happy bunny….
He ordered one of his registrar doctors to get the consultant in charge at the Eye Infirmary A&E to page him immediately.
He then said he would postpone the operation until next Wednesday as he was concerned about the amount of infection in my system. There was a chance that if he went ahead with the operation, the cold sore infection could take a stronger hold and cause blindness in my eye.
I told him once again that I was in agony with my back. He asked what pain relief I was getting. I told him I was taking liquid morphine but that was doing nothing and that I was waiting on news from the Pain Unit. Again he wasn’t happy.
He instructed another one of his registrars to arrange an emergency MRI scan on my back as he was concerned the infection could have spread there. He then asked him to get the Pain Unit to page him urgently.
About 11.40am a porter arrived to take me down for my MRI scan. This was the first time since I arrived on the ward that I had been out of my side room. It was nice to see the ‘outside’ world for a change…
While I was waiting in the corridor to be called into the scanning room, a man carrying a case walked past me and knocked on the door of the scanning room office. I could hear my name being mentioned. The man with the case then walked towards me.
“Are you Mrs Harper”, he asked.
“Yes”, I reply.
“Hello, I’m a consultant from the Eye Infirmary. I spoke with Mr Green earlier this morning and he asked me to come over and examine your eye”.
He took out some equipment from his case, “I tried the ward and they said you were here for a MRI scan. Sorry this place isn’t ideal for an examination”, he said as he looked into my eye, “but Mr Green said it was urgent”.
He finished his examination. “There is one small blister which is on your eye but it’s nothing to worry about. I understand you are to have surgery next Wednesday”.
“Yes”, I said, “it should have been tomorrow but because of my eye, it’s been postponed”.
“It should clear up ok but just to be on the safe side I’m going to prescribe some strong antibiotic’s and some Zovirax ointment. I’m afraid you will be rattling”, he smiled, “as you need to take four tablets, four times a day for six days. The ointment is what you are normally used to”.
The consultant went into the scanning room office to arrange everything while I was taken into the MRI room. The assistant radiographer then asked me to get out of the wheelchair as it was metal and could not be taken into the room.
I explained that I would need some help as it was extremely painful to walk. He then tried to position me onto the bed and I yelled out in agony. I didn’t think he realised how much pain I was in. He called another colleague for help and so ‘Tweedle Dumb’ and ‘Tweedle Dee’ helped, but it was more like hinder, me onto the bed. Thankfully the scan only lasted 20 minutes as lying on the bed was agony.
Later that afternoon I was finally given some stronger painkillers, which had been prescribed by the Pain Unit following the telephone call from Kermit. Two slow releasing tablets were to be given at 2pm and 8pm. If I needed any more pain relief then I could have them at 2 hourly intervals.
Also arrived were the Zovirax ointment and the antibiotics prescribed by the consultant from the eye infirmary.
I had one hell of a night with my back. I hadn’t slept since I was admitted and I was getting no pain relief what-so-ever. I was beginning to think everyone was thinking I was making it all up and not taking any notice of me.
Even before I looked in the mirror I knew my right eye wouldn’t be a pretty sight as I could hardly open it. It wasn’t !!!
Both the lid and underneath my eye were a mass of huge white cold sore blisters. Without even seeing Kermit, I knew he would postpone the operation planned for tomorrow.
I was right. He was shocked at the state of my eye. I told him this kind of thing was normal, explained about the Eye Infirmary, and that a doctor had looked at it yesterday, and that I was waiting for some ointment. He was not a happy bunny….
He ordered one of his registrar doctors to get the consultant in charge at the Eye Infirmary A&E to page him immediately.
He then said he would postpone the operation until next Wednesday as he was concerned about the amount of infection in my system. There was a chance that if he went ahead with the operation, the cold sore infection could take a stronger hold and cause blindness in my eye.
I told him once again that I was in agony with my back. He asked what pain relief I was getting. I told him I was taking liquid morphine but that was doing nothing and that I was waiting on news from the Pain Unit. Again he wasn’t happy.
He instructed another one of his registrars to arrange an emergency MRI scan on my back as he was concerned the infection could have spread there. He then asked him to get the Pain Unit to page him urgently.
About 11.40am a porter arrived to take me down for my MRI scan. This was the first time since I arrived on the ward that I had been out of my side room. It was nice to see the ‘outside’ world for a change…
While I was waiting in the corridor to be called into the scanning room, a man carrying a case walked past me and knocked on the door of the scanning room office. I could hear my name being mentioned. The man with the case then walked towards me.
“Are you Mrs Harper”, he asked.
“Yes”, I reply.
“Hello, I’m a consultant from the Eye Infirmary. I spoke with Mr Green earlier this morning and he asked me to come over and examine your eye”.
He took out some equipment from his case, “I tried the ward and they said you were here for a MRI scan. Sorry this place isn’t ideal for an examination”, he said as he looked into my eye, “but Mr Green said it was urgent”.
He finished his examination. “There is one small blister which is on your eye but it’s nothing to worry about. I understand you are to have surgery next Wednesday”.
“Yes”, I said, “it should have been tomorrow but because of my eye, it’s been postponed”.
“It should clear up ok but just to be on the safe side I’m going to prescribe some strong antibiotic’s and some Zovirax ointment. I’m afraid you will be rattling”, he smiled, “as you need to take four tablets, four times a day for six days. The ointment is what you are normally used to”.
The consultant went into the scanning room office to arrange everything while I was taken into the MRI room. The assistant radiographer then asked me to get out of the wheelchair as it was metal and could not be taken into the room.
I explained that I would need some help as it was extremely painful to walk. He then tried to position me onto the bed and I yelled out in agony. I didn’t think he realised how much pain I was in. He called another colleague for help and so ‘Tweedle Dumb’ and ‘Tweedle Dee’ helped, but it was more like hinder, me onto the bed. Thankfully the scan only lasted 20 minutes as lying on the bed was agony.
Later that afternoon I was finally given some stronger painkillers, which had been prescribed by the Pain Unit following the telephone call from Kermit. Two slow releasing tablets were to be given at 2pm and 8pm. If I needed any more pain relief then I could have them at 2 hourly intervals.
Also arrived were the Zovirax ointment and the antibiotics prescribed by the consultant from the eye infirmary.
Tuesday, 26 January 2010
Day 7 - Itchy eye
Tuesday 15th September 2009
As usual no sleep because of the pain in my back. It was now starting to get beyond a joke. Because the Pain Unit had not got back to the nursing staff, other than the awful liquid morphine, which did nothing, there wasn't anything else they could give me.
I couldn't bear being in bed any longer so got up just after 3am. As my side room is next to the ladies toilets, Kay, one of the night staff nurses who'd been to the loo noticed my light on and asked if I was ok.
"Would you like a cup of hot chocolate", she asked.
"There isn't any", I replied, explaining that the evening domestic had ran out of it several days ago and was waiting for a new jar to be delivered.
"We have some of our own in the kitchen", she said, "I'll go and make a cup for you".
Kermit came to see me like he does most mornings and explained what had actually happened to my hip.
"The 'squeak' you heard was actually your hip breaking up. From the x-rays we can see that the ball and socket joint have warn away. As they were grinding down we think this caused an abscess, which then burst and caused the infection ".
I was really angry and annoyed about this. Every time I had seen an orthopaedic consultant (or more accurately his registrar) about my knee, I had mentioned my squeaky hip and they just dismissed it. One even said that was normal !!!!
Later that morning I noticed my right eye had become itchy. Please don't let it be what I think it is, I prayed. A cold sore was the last thing I wanted. I looked in my hand mirror. Sure enough there were a couple of tiny cold sore blisters around my eye. I buzzed for a nurse.
"What can I do for you Marie", asked Karl, one of the Charge nurses.
"I think I've got cold sores in my eye", I replied, "I often get them. When I do I have to go to the Eye Infirmary and they give me some Zovirax specially for the eye".
"Leave it with me", he said.
Five minutes later he came back with a laptop computer. He was able to access my notes from the Eye Infirmary and found the ointment they prescribe for me.
"I'll get one of the doctors to come and have a look at your eye, just to make sure. Then I'll get them to prescribe the Zovirax".
Ten minutes later and the doctor had finished examining my eye and she was happy for Karl to order the Zovirax from the Pharmacy.
By seven o'clock that evening I still hadn't received the Zovirax nor had I received any stronger painkillers…
Shortly before 10pm Kay arrived with the final batch of IV antibiotics. She connected me to the drip but the liquid wasn't dripping through the chamber. She gave the line a squeeze as that usually forces it to start dripping. I yelled out in agony.
"Oh, I'm really sorry", she said apologising.
She looked at my hand then shook her head, "I'm going to have to remove the Venflon".
"Please don't say I have to have another one put in", I said, staring at my hands and arms which were a mass of bruises.
She prodded my arms trying to find a decent vein then shook her head again at not being able to find anything suitable.
"I'll have a word with the on-call doctor", she said.
Half an hour later she returned.
"Good new Marie", she said, "the doctor says you can start your oral antibiotics a day early".
My poor arms and hands breathed a sigh of relief. They had a night off from being used as a pin cushion….
As usual no sleep because of the pain in my back. It was now starting to get beyond a joke. Because the Pain Unit had not got back to the nursing staff, other than the awful liquid morphine, which did nothing, there wasn't anything else they could give me.
I couldn't bear being in bed any longer so got up just after 3am. As my side room is next to the ladies toilets, Kay, one of the night staff nurses who'd been to the loo noticed my light on and asked if I was ok.
"Would you like a cup of hot chocolate", she asked.
"There isn't any", I replied, explaining that the evening domestic had ran out of it several days ago and was waiting for a new jar to be delivered.
"We have some of our own in the kitchen", she said, "I'll go and make a cup for you".
Kermit came to see me like he does most mornings and explained what had actually happened to my hip.
"The 'squeak' you heard was actually your hip breaking up. From the x-rays we can see that the ball and socket joint have warn away. As they were grinding down we think this caused an abscess, which then burst and caused the infection ".
I was really angry and annoyed about this. Every time I had seen an orthopaedic consultant (or more accurately his registrar) about my knee, I had mentioned my squeaky hip and they just dismissed it. One even said that was normal !!!!
Later that morning I noticed my right eye had become itchy. Please don't let it be what I think it is, I prayed. A cold sore was the last thing I wanted. I looked in my hand mirror. Sure enough there were a couple of tiny cold sore blisters around my eye. I buzzed for a nurse.
"What can I do for you Marie", asked Karl, one of the Charge nurses.
"I think I've got cold sores in my eye", I replied, "I often get them. When I do I have to go to the Eye Infirmary and they give me some Zovirax specially for the eye".
"Leave it with me", he said.
Five minutes later he came back with a laptop computer. He was able to access my notes from the Eye Infirmary and found the ointment they prescribe for me.
"I'll get one of the doctors to come and have a look at your eye, just to make sure. Then I'll get them to prescribe the Zovirax".
Ten minutes later and the doctor had finished examining my eye and she was happy for Karl to order the Zovirax from the Pharmacy.
By seven o'clock that evening I still hadn't received the Zovirax nor had I received any stronger painkillers…
Shortly before 10pm Kay arrived with the final batch of IV antibiotics. She connected me to the drip but the liquid wasn't dripping through the chamber. She gave the line a squeeze as that usually forces it to start dripping. I yelled out in agony.
"Oh, I'm really sorry", she said apologising.
She looked at my hand then shook her head, "I'm going to have to remove the Venflon".
"Please don't say I have to have another one put in", I said, staring at my hands and arms which were a mass of bruises.
She prodded my arms trying to find a decent vein then shook her head again at not being able to find anything suitable.
"I'll have a word with the on-call doctor", she said.
Half an hour later she returned.
"Good new Marie", she said, "the doctor says you can start your oral antibiotics a day early".
My poor arms and hands breathed a sigh of relief. They had a night off from being used as a pin cushion….
Monday, 25 January 2010
Day 6 - When is a pressure sore not a pressure sore
Monday 14th September 2009
Deb, the Ward Manager, popped into my room to say good morning and asked how I was settling in. I explained about my back and told her what had happened on Friday night/Saturday morning. She was appalled and said that if anything like that happened again, I had to tell her as that not how she expected her staff to behave or treat patients.
I was still in a lot of pain with my back so Paula and Karl, two staff nurses decided to phone the Pain Unit to see if any extra strength painkillers could be prescribed.
Kermit arrived again and explained more about the operation. He would remove the old hip and provided all the infection had been removed and he was happy with it, then a temporary hip would be installed. This would then be replaced with a permanent one in about six to nine months times.
If, however, there were still traces of infection then he wouldn’t run the risk of putting in the temporary hip.
“Infection loves metal”, he said, “so it will simply attach itself to the hip and we’re back to square one”.
“Don’t worry”, he reassured me, “you’ll be able to manage without a hip joint as there’s lots of muscle around the joint to support it”.
Antibiotic ‘beads’ would then be put inside the joint cavity to help get rid of the infection. They would remain in place for the forcible future.
“As there’s a lot of dead skin from the pressure sore, I’ll do my best to remove it and nip everything together. I’m good at plastic surgery”, he said, “however if there’s too much skin that needs to be removed, and I can’t stitch everything back together, then I’ll have to pack the wound open and you’ll need plastic surgery”.
“If that’s the case”, he continued, “then you’ll need a skin graft, probably taken from your thigh. I’m afraid what ever happens, you’re talking a lengthy time in hospital”.
“Will that be weeks or months”, I asked.
“It’ll be several weeks”, he replied.
“So I will be home for Christmas”.
“Oh yes”, he smiled.
Later that day there was a knock at the door. “Mrs Harper”.
“Yes”, I replied.
“I’m Andrew, the Microbiologist. Can we have a chat”.
Andrew started by asking what had happened so I explained.
“Why do you think it was a pressure sore”, he asked.
“What else could it be”, I enquired.
“To get a pressure sore the skin needs to have pressure on it constantly. A couple of hours during the night isn’t going to give you a sore. You mentioned that you had a graze on your hip. We suspect that your pressure sore was actually the infection. Because of the graze on your hip, it had found a way to get out”.
He continued by explaining that the infection was quite severe so a strong doze of antibiotics would be required. I would continue on IV, as they were more potent, until the end then go onto oral on Wednesday. I would also be required to continue taking for several weeks after the operation.
“Do you drink”, he asked.
“Yes”, I replied.
“Would you like me to arrange it so you can have a drink whilst taking them”.
“It would be nice, but not the end of the world it you can’t”, I smiled,
“I’ll see what I can do, though I can’t promise anything”, he said.
Deb, the Ward Manager, popped into my room to say good morning and asked how I was settling in. I explained about my back and told her what had happened on Friday night/Saturday morning. She was appalled and said that if anything like that happened again, I had to tell her as that not how she expected her staff to behave or treat patients.
I was still in a lot of pain with my back so Paula and Karl, two staff nurses decided to phone the Pain Unit to see if any extra strength painkillers could be prescribed.
Kermit arrived again and explained more about the operation. He would remove the old hip and provided all the infection had been removed and he was happy with it, then a temporary hip would be installed. This would then be replaced with a permanent one in about six to nine months times.
If, however, there were still traces of infection then he wouldn’t run the risk of putting in the temporary hip.
“Infection loves metal”, he said, “so it will simply attach itself to the hip and we’re back to square one”.
“Don’t worry”, he reassured me, “you’ll be able to manage without a hip joint as there’s lots of muscle around the joint to support it”.
Antibiotic ‘beads’ would then be put inside the joint cavity to help get rid of the infection. They would remain in place for the forcible future.
“As there’s a lot of dead skin from the pressure sore, I’ll do my best to remove it and nip everything together. I’m good at plastic surgery”, he said, “however if there’s too much skin that needs to be removed, and I can’t stitch everything back together, then I’ll have to pack the wound open and you’ll need plastic surgery”.
“If that’s the case”, he continued, “then you’ll need a skin graft, probably taken from your thigh. I’m afraid what ever happens, you’re talking a lengthy time in hospital”.
“Will that be weeks or months”, I asked.
“It’ll be several weeks”, he replied.
“So I will be home for Christmas”.
“Oh yes”, he smiled.
Later that day there was a knock at the door. “Mrs Harper”.
“Yes”, I replied.
“I’m Andrew, the Microbiologist. Can we have a chat”.
Andrew started by asking what had happened so I explained.
“Why do you think it was a pressure sore”, he asked.
“What else could it be”, I enquired.
“To get a pressure sore the skin needs to have pressure on it constantly. A couple of hours during the night isn’t going to give you a sore. You mentioned that you had a graze on your hip. We suspect that your pressure sore was actually the infection. Because of the graze on your hip, it had found a way to get out”.
He continued by explaining that the infection was quite severe so a strong doze of antibiotics would be required. I would continue on IV, as they were more potent, until the end then go onto oral on Wednesday. I would also be required to continue taking for several weeks after the operation.
“Do you drink”, he asked.
“Yes”, I replied.
“Would you like me to arrange it so you can have a drink whilst taking them”.
“It would be nice, but not the end of the world it you can’t”, I smiled,
“I’ll see what I can do, though I can’t promise anything”, he said.
Sunday, 24 January 2010
Day 5 - Date given for my op
My first night sleeping on the new mattress wasn’t a success It was a really strange feeling lying in bed when the mattress suddenly ‘moves’. It’s did nothing for the pain in my back, if anything, it made it worse… I got up at 3am as I couldn’t stand it anymore.
Kermit arrives shortly after breakfast and I told him about my decision.
“Excellent”, he replied, “in that case the operation will either be on Tuesday or Thursday. Sorry I can’t do it any earlier but with it being a big operation, I need to get all the equipment ordered, plus I need to book a bed for you in intensive care”.
He came back to see me later with the news that the operation will take place on Thursday.
An auxiliary nurse came into my room and asked if I’d like a bowl to get washed in. I said yes then asked if it would be possible for me to have my hair washed as I was unable to take a shower. No problem she said and headed off to get some extra towels and a jug. 10 minutes later and I had wonderfully clean hair.
I had only been in hospital for a couple of days but during that time I had hardly touched any food. I was still feeling a little sickly but it was mainly that the food was simply inedible.
For breakfast there was a choice of cereal - corn flakes, rice Krisipes or bran flakes; porridge (the last time I was in hospital it resembled wallpaper paste so I doubt it will have improved) and a cooked breakfast consisting of scrambled egg (if they hadn’t run out…), bacon or sausage depending on which day of the week it was, and some beans. There was also toast which tasted like rubber.
For lunch it was soup and sandwiches. The soup was usually vegetable or tomato and it was always lukewarm. There was a choice of sandwiches usually ham salad, egg, turkey and cheese savoury in brown or white bread. The white bread was really thin and stodgy and the brown was simply white bread coloured brown…
The evening meals were no better, and if anything they were worse. Beside each bed were two menus – week one and week two. The food on both menu’s were identical, they simply put them on different days. It was mainly meat (if you could call it that !!!) and two different sort of vegetables each day. The variety of vegetables wasn’t great, carrots, turnip, sprouts or marrowfat peas, all of which had been boiled away to nothing. Some days they did have pies or pasties but even then they were horrible.
The only edible thing I found to eat was the apple crumble. Amazingly that was lovely. However it was only served about once a fortnight.
It got that bad that as soon as the trolley arrived on the ward, the stench of the gravy made me feel extremely sick. I even had to ban my mam from reading out that day’s menu as that would make me feel sick.
Kermit arrives shortly after breakfast and I told him about my decision.
“Excellent”, he replied, “in that case the operation will either be on Tuesday or Thursday. Sorry I can’t do it any earlier but with it being a big operation, I need to get all the equipment ordered, plus I need to book a bed for you in intensive care”.
He came back to see me later with the news that the operation will take place on Thursday.
An auxiliary nurse came into my room and asked if I’d like a bowl to get washed in. I said yes then asked if it would be possible for me to have my hair washed as I was unable to take a shower. No problem she said and headed off to get some extra towels and a jug. 10 minutes later and I had wonderfully clean hair.
I had only been in hospital for a couple of days but during that time I had hardly touched any food. I was still feeling a little sickly but it was mainly that the food was simply inedible.
For breakfast there was a choice of cereal - corn flakes, rice Krisipes or bran flakes; porridge (the last time I was in hospital it resembled wallpaper paste so I doubt it will have improved) and a cooked breakfast consisting of scrambled egg (if they hadn’t run out…), bacon or sausage depending on which day of the week it was, and some beans. There was also toast which tasted like rubber.
For lunch it was soup and sandwiches. The soup was usually vegetable or tomato and it was always lukewarm. There was a choice of sandwiches usually ham salad, egg, turkey and cheese savoury in brown or white bread. The white bread was really thin and stodgy and the brown was simply white bread coloured brown…
The evening meals were no better, and if anything they were worse. Beside each bed were two menus – week one and week two. The food on both menu’s were identical, they simply put them on different days. It was mainly meat (if you could call it that !!!) and two different sort of vegetables each day. The variety of vegetables wasn’t great, carrots, turnip, sprouts or marrowfat peas, all of which had been boiled away to nothing. Some days they did have pies or pasties but even then they were horrible.
The only edible thing I found to eat was the apple crumble. Amazingly that was lovely. However it was only served about once a fortnight.
It got that bad that as soon as the trolley arrived on the ward, the stench of the gravy made me feel extremely sick. I even had to ban my mam from reading out that day’s menu as that would make me feel sick.
Saturday, 23 January 2010
Day 4 - Meeting the consultant
Saturday 12th September 2009
I never slept a wink. My back was in even more pain than last night and the hand where I had been having the IV antibiotics was extremely red, swollen and painful.
At 6.25am I couldn’t take the pain anymore so buzzed for some painkillers. An auxiliary nurse arrived. I asked if I could have some morphine and explain about my hand.
“Ooh that nasty”, she said, looking at my hand, “the Venflon needs to come out. I’ll tell the nurse”.
At 6.30am a staff nurse arrived, not with any painkillers, but with another bag of antibiotics.
“The auxiliary nurse said it needs to come out”, I said as she was attaching the drip to my hand.
“Your hand is fine”, she replied, not even bothering to look at it.
I winced in pain. I could feel every single drop of antibiotics that was going through my vein. I looked up at the bag of liquid.
“It’s dropping through very slowly”, I said as the antibiotic was flowing into the drip chamber a single drop every couple of seconds or two.
“It’s meant to do that”, replied the nurse.
“Well, it wasn’t last night when you put it on”.
She didn’t reply and left the room. Instead of it taking the usual 30 minutes to finish, the bag finally empted five hours later, during which time I was in agony with my hand.
Both the pain in my back and in my hand were getting worse. I buzzed yet again at 7.30am for some pain relief. The auxiliary nurse said she would ask the nurse for some.
8.45am and I was still waiting….
The domestic cleaner came into my room with a cup of tea. I couldn’t sit up to drink it because of the pain in my back so she put the tea into a beaker for me. The cleaner asked if I was ok to which I explained that I was in severe pain. She suggested I buzzed for help. I replied that had already done that twice and no one came.
“Leave it with me”, she said.
Two minutes later a staff nurse came in to my room with some painkillers.
Later in the morning there was a knock at my door.
“Hello, I’m Mr Green”, announced a tall, good-looking man with a floppy fringe, “I understand you’re having one or two problems with your hip”.
“At the moment my hip is fine”, I replied, “it’s my back that giving me grief”.
He then asked if I have any history of back problems.
“No”, I replied, “but I think the problem is with the bed. The mattress is too soft”.
“Can we arrange for a different mattress”, he asked the nurse who was accompanying him.
She thought for a while. “We don’t have any other mattress. They are all the same”.
“Because the patients here in the hospital are mainly elderly”, he explained, “all the mattresses are designed to combat pressure sores, which is why the mattresses are so soft”.
Mr Green then came up with an idea, “what about an air mattress. That might help”.
He also arranged for some strong painkillers to be prescribed.
“Basically, you have two options regarding your hip”, he said, “I can clean it out, get rid of the infection and leave the hip in. However the infection will keep coming back and you will have to have it cleaned out again every couple of months”.
“And the other option….”, I asked.
“….is I remove the hip then clean out all the infection. Depending on what damage has been done, I might be able to put in a temporary hip, which will tide you over for a coupe of months”.
“It’ll be a major operation”, he continued, “lasting several hours and requiring several weeks stay in hospital. You’ll also have to spend the night following surgery in intensive care”
“It’s just a precaution”, he tried to reassure me, unsuccessfully.
“You don’t have to make a decision now”, he added, think about it and let me know tomorrow. I’m on call all this weekend so if you have any questions, just let one of the staff know, and I’ll pop in to see you”.
There wasn’t really anything to think about. Option one was a none starter so it had to be option two. The words ‘intensive care’ really freaked me out. Only really sick people spend time there so I thought there must be something sinister going on and he wasn’t telling me.
I was staring out of the window, which overlooked the main hospital car park, thinking about what Mr Green had said about it ‘being a major operation’ when a voice said ‘hello Marie’.
It was a staff nurse call Venus. “Can I take some blood from you”, she asks nicely.
It took her two attempts to get enough blood for the samples and she even apologised when the first attempt proved unsuccessful.
“Would you like a bowl to get washed”, she asked.
I said yes as I couldn’t go for shower because of the pain in my back.
“Finished washing”, she enquired, ten minutes after giving me the washing bowl.
“Sort of”, I replied, “because of my back I can’t bend down to wash my legs or feet”.
“I’ll do them”, she said cheerily, picking up my flannel. Once she had finished washing me, she then helped me get changed out of my nightshirt.
She noticed my right hand, “That looks really sore”, she said.
“It is”, I replied then told her what had happened.
“I’ll put it another one in” she said.
After a couple of goes trying to find a suitable vein Venus finally managed to put in new Venflon. “Hopefully that one will last”, she said.
My new mattress arrived. It was meant for pressure sore patients. The air inside of the mattress was moved every couple of minutes by an electric pump. It wasn’t the quietest of things but if it worked then great.
I discussed with John the options that Mr Green, or Kermit as he was going to be known as from now on, and we both agreed that number two was the only feasible option.
I never slept a wink. My back was in even more pain than last night and the hand where I had been having the IV antibiotics was extremely red, swollen and painful.
At 6.25am I couldn’t take the pain anymore so buzzed for some painkillers. An auxiliary nurse arrived. I asked if I could have some morphine and explain about my hand.
“Ooh that nasty”, she said, looking at my hand, “the Venflon needs to come out. I’ll tell the nurse”.
At 6.30am a staff nurse arrived, not with any painkillers, but with another bag of antibiotics.
“The auxiliary nurse said it needs to come out”, I said as she was attaching the drip to my hand.
“Your hand is fine”, she replied, not even bothering to look at it.
I winced in pain. I could feel every single drop of antibiotics that was going through my vein. I looked up at the bag of liquid.
“It’s dropping through very slowly”, I said as the antibiotic was flowing into the drip chamber a single drop every couple of seconds or two.
“It’s meant to do that”, replied the nurse.
“Well, it wasn’t last night when you put it on”.
She didn’t reply and left the room. Instead of it taking the usual 30 minutes to finish, the bag finally empted five hours later, during which time I was in agony with my hand.
Both the pain in my back and in my hand were getting worse. I buzzed yet again at 7.30am for some pain relief. The auxiliary nurse said she would ask the nurse for some.
8.45am and I was still waiting….
The domestic cleaner came into my room with a cup of tea. I couldn’t sit up to drink it because of the pain in my back so she put the tea into a beaker for me. The cleaner asked if I was ok to which I explained that I was in severe pain. She suggested I buzzed for help. I replied that had already done that twice and no one came.
“Leave it with me”, she said.
Two minutes later a staff nurse came in to my room with some painkillers.
Later in the morning there was a knock at my door.
“Hello, I’m Mr Green”, announced a tall, good-looking man with a floppy fringe, “I understand you’re having one or two problems with your hip”.
“At the moment my hip is fine”, I replied, “it’s my back that giving me grief”.
He then asked if I have any history of back problems.
“No”, I replied, “but I think the problem is with the bed. The mattress is too soft”.
“Can we arrange for a different mattress”, he asked the nurse who was accompanying him.
She thought for a while. “We don’t have any other mattress. They are all the same”.
“Because the patients here in the hospital are mainly elderly”, he explained, “all the mattresses are designed to combat pressure sores, which is why the mattresses are so soft”.
Mr Green then came up with an idea, “what about an air mattress. That might help”.
He also arranged for some strong painkillers to be prescribed.
“Basically, you have two options regarding your hip”, he said, “I can clean it out, get rid of the infection and leave the hip in. However the infection will keep coming back and you will have to have it cleaned out again every couple of months”.
“And the other option….”, I asked.
“….is I remove the hip then clean out all the infection. Depending on what damage has been done, I might be able to put in a temporary hip, which will tide you over for a coupe of months”.
“It’ll be a major operation”, he continued, “lasting several hours and requiring several weeks stay in hospital. You’ll also have to spend the night following surgery in intensive care”
“It’s just a precaution”, he tried to reassure me, unsuccessfully.
“You don’t have to make a decision now”, he added, think about it and let me know tomorrow. I’m on call all this weekend so if you have any questions, just let one of the staff know, and I’ll pop in to see you”.
There wasn’t really anything to think about. Option one was a none starter so it had to be option two. The words ‘intensive care’ really freaked me out. Only really sick people spend time there so I thought there must be something sinister going on and he wasn’t telling me.
I was staring out of the window, which overlooked the main hospital car park, thinking about what Mr Green had said about it ‘being a major operation’ when a voice said ‘hello Marie’.
It was a staff nurse call Venus. “Can I take some blood from you”, she asks nicely.
It took her two attempts to get enough blood for the samples and she even apologised when the first attempt proved unsuccessful.
“Would you like a bowl to get washed”, she asked.
I said yes as I couldn’t go for shower because of the pain in my back.
“Finished washing”, she enquired, ten minutes after giving me the washing bowl.
“Sort of”, I replied, “because of my back I can’t bend down to wash my legs or feet”.
“I’ll do them”, she said cheerily, picking up my flannel. Once she had finished washing me, she then helped me get changed out of my nightshirt.
She noticed my right hand, “That looks really sore”, she said.
“It is”, I replied then told her what had happened.
“I’ll put it another one in” she said.
After a couple of goes trying to find a suitable vein Venus finally managed to put in new Venflon. “Hopefully that one will last”, she said.
My new mattress arrived. It was meant for pressure sore patients. The air inside of the mattress was moved every couple of minutes by an electric pump. It wasn’t the quietest of things but if it worked then great.
I discussed with John the options that Mr Green, or Kermit as he was going to be known as from now on, and we both agreed that number two was the only feasible option.
Friday, 22 January 2010
Day 3 - The first night
Friday 11th September 2009
I was woken at 6.25am by a staff nurse coming into my side room to give me another batch of intravenous antibiotics. I started taking them early in the morning and already my hand where the antibiotics was administered, was hurting.
As expected I didn’t sleep at all. I think I finally nodded off at about 4.30am. My back was really hurting me as the bed was so soft.
The IV line in my hand was now really painful and I could feel the antibiotic fluid flowing through my vein.
Sister came into my room. “Hello”, she said, “I’m Deb, the Ward Manager and I always pop in to say good morning to all the patients”.
I saw her again shortly as she accompanied Mr O’Brien and his team of doctors when he did his rounds. Mr O’Brien explained that I was now to be under the care of an orthopaedic consultant called Mr Green. When my original consultant retired, all his patients were transferred to Mr Green. However no-one at the hospital bothered to inform me of this…
Deb, the Ward Manager, asked if I had seen Mr Green before. I said I hadn’t.
“Oh, he’s gorgeous”, she drooled, “you should see him when he’s all gowned up for theatre and all you see is his baby blue eyes. Oh!!!!”.
Mr O’Brien who had been talking into his Dictaphone stopped speaking and looked at Deb.
“Well, he is handsome. Don’t you agree”, she asked the women student doctors.
They all blushed.
“See! You’ll think the same”, she said to me.
“I’ll let you know”, I replied.
Just as I was about to start eating my breakfast (bran flakes. They were the best that what was on offer), the Swedish chef doctor who came to see me last night called back to finish getting of his details.
Throughout the day the pain in my back was gradually getting worse. By the time John left that evening I was in agony.
About 9pm I decided to get ready for bed, however, when I stood up from the chair, I was in excruciating pain in my right leg and lower back. I grappled for my buzzer and bleeped for a nurse.
A young auxiliary nurse arrived. I asked if someone could come and have a look at my back as I was in agony, and nothing like this had ever happened to my back before. She said she would inform one of the staff nurses.
At 9.20pm, I was in even more pain and as no one had been to see me I buzzed again.
“I’m really sorry”, I said to the same auxiliary nurse, “but I’m in excruciating pain with my back”.
“I did tell her”, she snapped at me, “I’ll tell her again but we are very busy”.
The slightest movement sent unbearable pain down my leg and lower back. Even breathing hurt. If I had been at home I would have phoned for the Paramedics as the pain was now unbearable. I had never experienced pain like this before – and hoped I never would again.
At 10.25pm a staff nurse appeared and by this time I was crying with the pain. However she hadn’t come to see about my back, she had come to do my observations (blood pressure, temperature etc) and to give me my IV antibiotics.
“Give me your arm”, she said as she moved the blood pressure machine towards me.
I cried out in agony as she wrapped the blood pressure strap around my arm.
“Do you know when someone will be coming to see me about my back”, I enquired.
“Soon”, she said, disinterested as she connected me to the antibiotics drip.
‘Soon’ turned out to be another hour. “When will it take effect”, I asked as the staff nurse put a small plastic container of liquid morphine on my table.
“Dunno”, she said as she disconnected me from the drip as the bag was empty, “it could take 10 minutes or several hours”.
She was about to leave my room when I asked, “do you think you could push the table towards me please. It’s out of my reach and I can’t move because of the pain in my back”.
She moved it towards me in annoyed silence.
I was still sitting in the chair at 1.30am. The morphine had done nothing to ease my back. Rather than ask for some more painkillers, I figured it would be morning before I got any, I thought I’d settle down in bed and try and get some sleep.
It took me an hour just to move off the chair and onto the bed. It was going to be a long night…
I was woken at 6.25am by a staff nurse coming into my side room to give me another batch of intravenous antibiotics. I started taking them early in the morning and already my hand where the antibiotics was administered, was hurting.
As expected I didn’t sleep at all. I think I finally nodded off at about 4.30am. My back was really hurting me as the bed was so soft.
The IV line in my hand was now really painful and I could feel the antibiotic fluid flowing through my vein.
Sister came into my room. “Hello”, she said, “I’m Deb, the Ward Manager and I always pop in to say good morning to all the patients”.
I saw her again shortly as she accompanied Mr O’Brien and his team of doctors when he did his rounds. Mr O’Brien explained that I was now to be under the care of an orthopaedic consultant called Mr Green. When my original consultant retired, all his patients were transferred to Mr Green. However no-one at the hospital bothered to inform me of this…
Deb, the Ward Manager, asked if I had seen Mr Green before. I said I hadn’t.
“Oh, he’s gorgeous”, she drooled, “you should see him when he’s all gowned up for theatre and all you see is his baby blue eyes. Oh!!!!”.
Mr O’Brien who had been talking into his Dictaphone stopped speaking and looked at Deb.
“Well, he is handsome. Don’t you agree”, she asked the women student doctors.
They all blushed.
“See! You’ll think the same”, she said to me.
“I’ll let you know”, I replied.
Just as I was about to start eating my breakfast (bran flakes. They were the best that what was on offer), the Swedish chef doctor who came to see me last night called back to finish getting of his details.
Throughout the day the pain in my back was gradually getting worse. By the time John left that evening I was in agony.
About 9pm I decided to get ready for bed, however, when I stood up from the chair, I was in excruciating pain in my right leg and lower back. I grappled for my buzzer and bleeped for a nurse.
A young auxiliary nurse arrived. I asked if someone could come and have a look at my back as I was in agony, and nothing like this had ever happened to my back before. She said she would inform one of the staff nurses.
At 9.20pm, I was in even more pain and as no one had been to see me I buzzed again.
“I’m really sorry”, I said to the same auxiliary nurse, “but I’m in excruciating pain with my back”.
“I did tell her”, she snapped at me, “I’ll tell her again but we are very busy”.
The slightest movement sent unbearable pain down my leg and lower back. Even breathing hurt. If I had been at home I would have phoned for the Paramedics as the pain was now unbearable. I had never experienced pain like this before – and hoped I never would again.
At 10.25pm a staff nurse appeared and by this time I was crying with the pain. However she hadn’t come to see about my back, she had come to do my observations (blood pressure, temperature etc) and to give me my IV antibiotics.
“Give me your arm”, she said as she moved the blood pressure machine towards me.
I cried out in agony as she wrapped the blood pressure strap around my arm.
“Do you know when someone will be coming to see me about my back”, I enquired.
“Soon”, she said, disinterested as she connected me to the antibiotics drip.
‘Soon’ turned out to be another hour. “When will it take effect”, I asked as the staff nurse put a small plastic container of liquid morphine on my table.
“Dunno”, she said as she disconnected me from the drip as the bag was empty, “it could take 10 minutes or several hours”.
She was about to leave my room when I asked, “do you think you could push the table towards me please. It’s out of my reach and I can’t move because of the pain in my back”.
She moved it towards me in annoyed silence.
I was still sitting in the chair at 1.30am. The morphine had done nothing to ease my back. Rather than ask for some more painkillers, I figured it would be morning before I got any, I thought I’d settle down in bed and try and get some sleep.
It took me an hour just to move off the chair and onto the bed. It was going to be a long night…
Thursday, 21 January 2010
Day 2 - The black stuff
Thursday 10th September 2009
John was back at work following our holidays so we both felt like throttling his alarm when it went off at 7.30am that morning.
John asked how I was feeling and did I want him to stop off work.
Although I wasn’t feeling 100%, I felt so much better than yesterday so said I’d be ok on my own. Famous last words!!!!!
After seeing John off to work, I had my breakfast of muesli. I took one mouthful and felt extremely sickly again – and it wasn’t anything to do with eating museli ! The dreaded lurgy had come back.
I had my usual Thursday appointment to get my pressure sore dressing changed by one of the nurse at my GP’s later in the morning, so thought I’d go back to bed for an hour to see if I could sleep off the lurgy – or at least feel a little more ‘human’ again.
My normal morning routine is to switch on my computer and check my emails before I get washed and changed out of my night clothes. I have no idea why I didn’t just go straight back to bed. Old habits are hard to break…
I don’t know what made me look at my pressure sore dressing but I felt that something wasn’t right. The entire dressing was black – ink black – and the black gung was oozing down my leg and onto my nightshirt and dressing gown.
My first thought was ‘oh, that can’t be good!’ then rang John at work as the black stuff was now pouring out at a considerable rate and I was feeling quite ill again.
John came home as soon as he could and found me sitting on the bed trying to mop up the black stuff, without much success.
He decided it would be best to leave the original dressing on. We didn’t know what we would find hiding under it, plus the nurse might want to see everything intact. He just covered it with another dressing.
By the time I got to surgery I was so ill I could hardly walk, so John helped me into the treatment room.
A young student nurse who was working at the surgery as part of her final third year placement asked how I was.
“Not too good”, I replied.
“You don’t look very well”, she commented.
I asked if Margaret, one of the nurses who I had been seeing for my pressure sore, was in today. No disrespected to the student but I wanted to see a qualified nurse.
“She’s just popped out for a moment”, she replied.
“Hello Marie”, said Margaret, as she walked through the door and spotted me sitting in the chair, “How are you? Did you enjoy your holidays”.
I didn’t get a chance to answer her when she said, staring at me, “You don’t look very well. You look very pale”.
“That’s what I said”, said the student.
I explained that I hadn’t been feeling very well since yesterday and that there had been an interesting development with my pressure sore.
On looking at my sore, Margaret commented that she’d never seen anything like it before so asked Eileen, the practice nurse Sister, to come and take a look. Eileen arrived and she’s too had never seen anything like it either. Her only suggestion was to ask for help from one of the doctors.
While we were waiting for a doctor, Margaret and the student dressed my burn.
Dr Blake came into the room. “Oh, hello again”, she said on seeing me.
She had a good look at my hip then said that I’d need to go to hospital for some antibiotics as it looks like there was an infection in my hip. We were to wait in reception while she wrote out a referral.
Ten minutes later we were called into her consulting room.
“I’ve rang the hospital and told them you are coming”, she said, finishing off writing my referral, “I’ve asked that an x-ray be taken of your hip and for an orthopaedic registrar to take a look at you when you are in A&E”.
She printed off some more notes from her computer then gave me a large envelope which I had to give to the medical staff on arrival at A&E.
“Do you have any transport to get you to hospital”, she enquired.
“Yes”, I replied.
“Good. Other wise I would have called 999….”.
About half an hour later we were in A&E and although the waiting time on the message board said four hours, we were seen almost immediately. Following several x-rays on my hip I was eventually seen by the orthopaedic registrar.
“I’m afraid we’re going to have to admit you”, he said, “your hip is infected. That’s why you are feeling ill. The infection has got into your blood stream”.
“How serious is it”, I asked.
“If we don’t do anything about it now, then it will become life threatening”, he replied, “when was the last time you had anything to eat or drink”.
I told him the last food was a spoonful of muesli at 9am and a sip of water about half an hour ago.
“Don’t have anything else to eat or drink”, he said, “as we’re going to book you in for immediately surgery to clean out your hip”.
A nurse then appeared and tried to insert a Venflon, which is an intravenous tube, in my hand. I don’t have very good veins so it took several painful attempts.
After several phone calls the registrar came back to say he’d found me a bed in Ward 43 and that I would be moved there as soon as they could find a porter.
I arrived onto the ward at 4.45pm and was put into a side room. John left shortly afterwards to phone my mam as I normally ring her on Thursday afternoon, and to bring in things I’d need, like toiletries and a change of clothing.
I was then seen by one of the wards registrars who took some details and asked to have a look at my hip. He said some medical term which I didn’t understand.
“Do you mean I’ve got metal fatigue”, I asked.
He laughed, “You could say that. The black stuff is the metal from your hip”.
“That can’t be good”, I said.
He shook his head, “it isn’t I’m afraid. Your hip has failed and will have to come out”.
I knew artificial hips don’t last a lifetime but I really expected mine to last longer than 11 years.
About ten minutes later the registrar came back accompanied by another doctor.
“Hello”, said the other doctor, “I’m Mr O’Brien and I’m the on-call orthopaedic consultant”.
I’d never met Mr O’Brien but I knew of him as he is my friend Janice’s consultant.
He confirmed what the registrar had said then said he’d see me in the morning.
One of the nurses asked if I’d like something to eat. I explained that I thought I was to have surgery sometime tonight so was nil by mouth. She left the room saying she’d find out. The evening domestic cleaner who gives out the teas and coffees to the patients asked if I’d like a drink. Once again I explained what I thought was happening so she too said she’d find out. Neither of them came back…
My mam arrived just after 6pm so she must have left her house immediately after John had phoned her. She had guessed something must have happened as she had been telephoning our home phone since 4pm and getting no answer.
A nurse came into my room carrying three packets of sandwiches. “You’re not now going down for surgery”, she said, “so would you like some sandwiches”.
I was hungry but didn’t feel like eating as I was still feeling sickly.
“Go on, get something”, ordered my mam.
I didn’t particularly fancy any of them but chose the ham sandwich as it looked the best out of the three.
“Here, have another packet”, said the nurse putting a packet of beef sandwiches onto my table, “I’ll put this one”, she said holding up the third packet, “in the fridge should you want it later tonight”.
I never touched the sandwiches.
Shortly after John had come back another registrar doctor came in to my room wanting some information. As I was on my way to the loo, my room had it’s own toilet, I suggested that John and my mam could answer any of his questions until I returned.
When I came out of the loo, the register had gone. “He mustn’t have wanted to know that much”, I said.
“His bleeper went off”, replied John, “you would have liked him. He sounded like the Swedish chef…”.
Later that evening a nurse asked if I’d like an extra blanket as she said I looked cold.
“Yes please,” I replied as I was still quite shivery.
“I’ve brought you two”, she said, “as it can get cold during the night in the side rooms because they don’t have any heating”.
I looked around the room and she was right, there were no radiators.
“What happens to patients in the winter”, I asked.
“They freeze”, she replied….
John was back at work following our holidays so we both felt like throttling his alarm when it went off at 7.30am that morning.
John asked how I was feeling and did I want him to stop off work.
Although I wasn’t feeling 100%, I felt so much better than yesterday so said I’d be ok on my own. Famous last words!!!!!
After seeing John off to work, I had my breakfast of muesli. I took one mouthful and felt extremely sickly again – and it wasn’t anything to do with eating museli ! The dreaded lurgy had come back.
I had my usual Thursday appointment to get my pressure sore dressing changed by one of the nurse at my GP’s later in the morning, so thought I’d go back to bed for an hour to see if I could sleep off the lurgy – or at least feel a little more ‘human’ again.
My normal morning routine is to switch on my computer and check my emails before I get washed and changed out of my night clothes. I have no idea why I didn’t just go straight back to bed. Old habits are hard to break…
I don’t know what made me look at my pressure sore dressing but I felt that something wasn’t right. The entire dressing was black – ink black – and the black gung was oozing down my leg and onto my nightshirt and dressing gown.
My first thought was ‘oh, that can’t be good!’ then rang John at work as the black stuff was now pouring out at a considerable rate and I was feeling quite ill again.
John came home as soon as he could and found me sitting on the bed trying to mop up the black stuff, without much success.
He decided it would be best to leave the original dressing on. We didn’t know what we would find hiding under it, plus the nurse might want to see everything intact. He just covered it with another dressing.
By the time I got to surgery I was so ill I could hardly walk, so John helped me into the treatment room.
A young student nurse who was working at the surgery as part of her final third year placement asked how I was.
“Not too good”, I replied.
“You don’t look very well”, she commented.
I asked if Margaret, one of the nurses who I had been seeing for my pressure sore, was in today. No disrespected to the student but I wanted to see a qualified nurse.
“She’s just popped out for a moment”, she replied.
“Hello Marie”, said Margaret, as she walked through the door and spotted me sitting in the chair, “How are you? Did you enjoy your holidays”.
I didn’t get a chance to answer her when she said, staring at me, “You don’t look very well. You look very pale”.
“That’s what I said”, said the student.
I explained that I hadn’t been feeling very well since yesterday and that there had been an interesting development with my pressure sore.
On looking at my sore, Margaret commented that she’d never seen anything like it before so asked Eileen, the practice nurse Sister, to come and take a look. Eileen arrived and she’s too had never seen anything like it either. Her only suggestion was to ask for help from one of the doctors.
While we were waiting for a doctor, Margaret and the student dressed my burn.
Dr Blake came into the room. “Oh, hello again”, she said on seeing me.
She had a good look at my hip then said that I’d need to go to hospital for some antibiotics as it looks like there was an infection in my hip. We were to wait in reception while she wrote out a referral.
Ten minutes later we were called into her consulting room.
“I’ve rang the hospital and told them you are coming”, she said, finishing off writing my referral, “I’ve asked that an x-ray be taken of your hip and for an orthopaedic registrar to take a look at you when you are in A&E”.
She printed off some more notes from her computer then gave me a large envelope which I had to give to the medical staff on arrival at A&E.
“Do you have any transport to get you to hospital”, she enquired.
“Yes”, I replied.
“Good. Other wise I would have called 999….”.
About half an hour later we were in A&E and although the waiting time on the message board said four hours, we were seen almost immediately. Following several x-rays on my hip I was eventually seen by the orthopaedic registrar.
“I’m afraid we’re going to have to admit you”, he said, “your hip is infected. That’s why you are feeling ill. The infection has got into your blood stream”.
“How serious is it”, I asked.
“If we don’t do anything about it now, then it will become life threatening”, he replied, “when was the last time you had anything to eat or drink”.
I told him the last food was a spoonful of muesli at 9am and a sip of water about half an hour ago.
“Don’t have anything else to eat or drink”, he said, “as we’re going to book you in for immediately surgery to clean out your hip”.
A nurse then appeared and tried to insert a Venflon, which is an intravenous tube, in my hand. I don’t have very good veins so it took several painful attempts.
After several phone calls the registrar came back to say he’d found me a bed in Ward 43 and that I would be moved there as soon as they could find a porter.
I arrived onto the ward at 4.45pm and was put into a side room. John left shortly afterwards to phone my mam as I normally ring her on Thursday afternoon, and to bring in things I’d need, like toiletries and a change of clothing.
I was then seen by one of the wards registrars who took some details and asked to have a look at my hip. He said some medical term which I didn’t understand.
“Do you mean I’ve got metal fatigue”, I asked.
He laughed, “You could say that. The black stuff is the metal from your hip”.
“That can’t be good”, I said.
He shook his head, “it isn’t I’m afraid. Your hip has failed and will have to come out”.
I knew artificial hips don’t last a lifetime but I really expected mine to last longer than 11 years.
About ten minutes later the registrar came back accompanied by another doctor.
“Hello”, said the other doctor, “I’m Mr O’Brien and I’m the on-call orthopaedic consultant”.
I’d never met Mr O’Brien but I knew of him as he is my friend Janice’s consultant.
He confirmed what the registrar had said then said he’d see me in the morning.
One of the nurses asked if I’d like something to eat. I explained that I thought I was to have surgery sometime tonight so was nil by mouth. She left the room saying she’d find out. The evening domestic cleaner who gives out the teas and coffees to the patients asked if I’d like a drink. Once again I explained what I thought was happening so she too said she’d find out. Neither of them came back…
My mam arrived just after 6pm so she must have left her house immediately after John had phoned her. She had guessed something must have happened as she had been telephoning our home phone since 4pm and getting no answer.
A nurse came into my room carrying three packets of sandwiches. “You’re not now going down for surgery”, she said, “so would you like some sandwiches”.
I was hungry but didn’t feel like eating as I was still feeling sickly.
“Go on, get something”, ordered my mam.
I didn’t particularly fancy any of them but chose the ham sandwich as it looked the best out of the three.
“Here, have another packet”, said the nurse putting a packet of beef sandwiches onto my table, “I’ll put this one”, she said holding up the third packet, “in the fridge should you want it later tonight”.
I never touched the sandwiches.
Shortly after John had come back another registrar doctor came in to my room wanting some information. As I was on my way to the loo, my room had it’s own toilet, I suggested that John and my mam could answer any of his questions until I returned.
When I came out of the loo, the register had gone. “He mustn’t have wanted to know that much”, I said.
“His bleeper went off”, replied John, “you would have liked him. He sounded like the Swedish chef…”.
Later that evening a nurse asked if I’d like an extra blanket as she said I looked cold.
“Yes please,” I replied as I was still quite shivery.
“I’ve brought you two”, she said, “as it can get cold during the night in the side rooms because they don’t have any heating”.
I looked around the room and she was right, there were no radiators.
“What happens to patients in the winter”, I asked.
“They freeze”, she replied….
Wednesday, 20 January 2010
Day 1 - Marie's birthday
Wednesday 9th September 2009
For the past few days I’d been feeling a little off colour but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was the problem.
I knew it wasn’t a hangover (we were on holiday which is always an excuse to drink a little more than normal but I hadn’t over done it….) and I knew it wasn’t a cold as I didn’t have any of the usual symptoms.
September 9th was my birthday but I didn’t feel like celebrating. I woke up about 9.30am feeling like I had the flu.
My wonderful husband John went downstairs and filled a hot water bottle for me as I was cold, achy and shivery. I cuddled up to the bottle and went back to sleep for another hour.
I woke up feeling a little better so opened the presents the ‘Birthday Bunny’ had very kindly left for me.
We have a birthday tradition of going to a wonderful Chinese restaurant for lunch so were looking forward to it after I had been to see my GP.
Because I was having to sleep on my right side due to my pressure sore, my right knee was causing me quite a bit of discomfort and pain during the night. I’d made an appointment to see my GP in the hope she would give me some more or stronger painkillers for during the night. The earliest appointment I could get was on my birthday.
Instead of giving me some new painkillers, Dr Blake decided to up the amount of painkillers I take on a night time, from two to five, slowly increasing them over a couple of nights. She asked how my pressure sore was getting on and I said it was healing nicely, and that all of the horrible dead skin had nearly gone.
To be honest I didn’t feel like going out for lunch. My whole body ached and I felt quite sickly. However I knew John would be disappointed so didn’t mention anything to him.
As normal we got a lovely welcome from the staff at the restaurant. We’re regulars so they know us well. I ordered my usual – the soup, which that day was chicken and noodle, and sweet and sour pork.
The feeling of wanting to be sick was still with me so all I could manage to eat was a small piece of chicken from the soup, and one small bit of pork and a chopstick full of rice. I felt awful leaving the food and kept apologising to the staff that it wasn’t anything to do with the food, it was because I wasn’t very well. They very kindly asked if I would like to take it away in a ‘doggy’ bag, but I knew it wouldn’t get eaten so refused.
When it came to the dessert I asked if my portion of ice-cream could be given to John as I couldn’t even face eating that.
As it was my birthday I tried to jolly myself a long a bit, but it was no good so went back to bed for a couple of hours. My mam rang just after 4pm to wish me a happy birthday and to ask what the Birthday Bunny had brought for me.
I was still in bed so let the phone, which was on the bedside table, ring a couple of times so she wouldn’t be suspicious as to why I’d answered it straight away. I bluffed my way through the list of presents I’d received as I couldn’t remember what I got. The morning seemed such a blur.
After my mam had rang off I felt a little better so got out of bed. That seemed to be what was happening all day. I’d feel ill for a couple of hours, then perk up a bit, then go back to feeling ill again.
We normally don’t bother having much to eat for dinner after a visit to the Chinese restaurant as we’re usually still full, so just had a piece of my birthday chocolate cake which we’d decorated the day before (in the usual way with lots of chocolate buttons and crushed flakes). Sadly all I could managed to eat was a small bit of it.
We settled down later in the evening to watch a DVD and have a bottle of wine to celebrate my birthday. I thought I’d look through a couple of books that I’d received from the Birthday Bunny, but simply couldn’t be bothered. I spent most of the evening staring at the television screen as I was really spaced out.
I only had a sip or two from my wine so John finished off the rest of the bottle. Wisely, instead of drinking the remainder from my glass, he poured it down the sink. I know it was a waste of wine but who know what kind of germs were swimming around in my glass…
As my whole body was aching horrendously, especially my left knee, which for some reason I couldn’t quite figure out why (it’s normally the right one which gives me grief) so John got me one of my heat pads that goes in microwave for a few minutes, to put on my knee.
I don’t know if it was because my whole body was out of sorts or what, but without noticing, I’d managed to give myself a three inch burn on my left knee from the heat pad.
Remember the sickly feeling I’d had all day, well it finally decided to make a proper appearance, so John had to dash off for the bucket from the kitchen.
I eventually staggered upstairs, with John following closely behind with the bucket in case it was required again, and collapsed into bed.
Not a very nice way to end both your birthday and holiday…
For the past few days I’d been feeling a little off colour but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was the problem.
I knew it wasn’t a hangover (we were on holiday which is always an excuse to drink a little more than normal but I hadn’t over done it….) and I knew it wasn’t a cold as I didn’t have any of the usual symptoms.
September 9th was my birthday but I didn’t feel like celebrating. I woke up about 9.30am feeling like I had the flu.
My wonderful husband John went downstairs and filled a hot water bottle for me as I was cold, achy and shivery. I cuddled up to the bottle and went back to sleep for another hour.
I woke up feeling a little better so opened the presents the ‘Birthday Bunny’ had very kindly left for me.
We have a birthday tradition of going to a wonderful Chinese restaurant for lunch so were looking forward to it after I had been to see my GP.
Because I was having to sleep on my right side due to my pressure sore, my right knee was causing me quite a bit of discomfort and pain during the night. I’d made an appointment to see my GP in the hope she would give me some more or stronger painkillers for during the night. The earliest appointment I could get was on my birthday.
Instead of giving me some new painkillers, Dr Blake decided to up the amount of painkillers I take on a night time, from two to five, slowly increasing them over a couple of nights. She asked how my pressure sore was getting on and I said it was healing nicely, and that all of the horrible dead skin had nearly gone.
To be honest I didn’t feel like going out for lunch. My whole body ached and I felt quite sickly. However I knew John would be disappointed so didn’t mention anything to him.
As normal we got a lovely welcome from the staff at the restaurant. We’re regulars so they know us well. I ordered my usual – the soup, which that day was chicken and noodle, and sweet and sour pork.
The feeling of wanting to be sick was still with me so all I could manage to eat was a small piece of chicken from the soup, and one small bit of pork and a chopstick full of rice. I felt awful leaving the food and kept apologising to the staff that it wasn’t anything to do with the food, it was because I wasn’t very well. They very kindly asked if I would like to take it away in a ‘doggy’ bag, but I knew it wouldn’t get eaten so refused.
When it came to the dessert I asked if my portion of ice-cream could be given to John as I couldn’t even face eating that.
As it was my birthday I tried to jolly myself a long a bit, but it was no good so went back to bed for a couple of hours. My mam rang just after 4pm to wish me a happy birthday and to ask what the Birthday Bunny had brought for me.
I was still in bed so let the phone, which was on the bedside table, ring a couple of times so she wouldn’t be suspicious as to why I’d answered it straight away. I bluffed my way through the list of presents I’d received as I couldn’t remember what I got. The morning seemed such a blur.
After my mam had rang off I felt a little better so got out of bed. That seemed to be what was happening all day. I’d feel ill for a couple of hours, then perk up a bit, then go back to feeling ill again.
We normally don’t bother having much to eat for dinner after a visit to the Chinese restaurant as we’re usually still full, so just had a piece of my birthday chocolate cake which we’d decorated the day before (in the usual way with lots of chocolate buttons and crushed flakes). Sadly all I could managed to eat was a small bit of it.
We settled down later in the evening to watch a DVD and have a bottle of wine to celebrate my birthday. I thought I’d look through a couple of books that I’d received from the Birthday Bunny, but simply couldn’t be bothered. I spent most of the evening staring at the television screen as I was really spaced out.
I only had a sip or two from my wine so John finished off the rest of the bottle. Wisely, instead of drinking the remainder from my glass, he poured it down the sink. I know it was a waste of wine but who know what kind of germs were swimming around in my glass…
As my whole body was aching horrendously, especially my left knee, which for some reason I couldn’t quite figure out why (it’s normally the right one which gives me grief) so John got me one of my heat pads that goes in microwave for a few minutes, to put on my knee.
I don’t know if it was because my whole body was out of sorts or what, but without noticing, I’d managed to give myself a three inch burn on my left knee from the heat pad.
Remember the sickly feeling I’d had all day, well it finally decided to make a proper appearance, so John had to dash off for the bucket from the kitchen.
I eventually staggered upstairs, with John following closely behind with the bucket in case it was required again, and collapsed into bed.
Not a very nice way to end both your birthday and holiday…
Tuesday, 19 January 2010
What is this blog all about
My name is Marie and back in 1998 I had an artificial left hip fitted.
The whys and wherefores aren’t important. Suffice to say everything went well and I had no cause to think anything was wrong.
In September 2008 I began to experience pain in my right knee, and at first thought I’d damaged a cartilage.
Not so, it was the onset of arthritis which will eventually require the right hip and right knee to be replaced.
About this time my artificial hip began to ‘squeak’ – at best it sounded like a mouse, at worst it sounded like I was breaking wind…
As I was seeing a specialist about my knee I asked about my hip and was assured that everything was fine.
In June 2009 I developed a ‘pressure sore’ on my left hip. We thought this was caused because I could only sleep on my left side due to the pain in my right knee.
The sore responded well to treatment and all was going really well until …
To be continued
The whys and wherefores aren’t important. Suffice to say everything went well and I had no cause to think anything was wrong.
In September 2008 I began to experience pain in my right knee, and at first thought I’d damaged a cartilage.
Not so, it was the onset of arthritis which will eventually require the right hip and right knee to be replaced.
About this time my artificial hip began to ‘squeak’ – at best it sounded like a mouse, at worst it sounded like I was breaking wind…
As I was seeing a specialist about my knee I asked about my hip and was assured that everything was fine.
In June 2009 I developed a ‘pressure sore’ on my left hip. We thought this was caused because I could only sleep on my left side due to the pain in my right knee.
The sore responded well to treatment and all was going really well until …
To be continued
Sunday, 17 January 2010
More extracts from the Joint Journals
“The black stuff is the metal from your hip”.
“That can’t be good”, I said.
He shook his head, “it isn’t I’m afraid. Your hip has failed and will have to come out”.
The slightest movement sent unbearable pain down my leg and lower back. Even breathing hurt. If I had been at home I would have phoned for the Paramedics as the pain was now unbearable. I had never experienced pain like this before – and hoped I never would again.
“It’ll be a major operation”, he continued, “lasting several hours and requiring several weeks stay in hospital. You’ll also have to spend the night following surgery in intensive care”.
“That can’t be good”, I said.
He shook his head, “it isn’t I’m afraid. Your hip has failed and will have to come out”.
The slightest movement sent unbearable pain down my leg and lower back. Even breathing hurt. If I had been at home I would have phoned for the Paramedics as the pain was now unbearable. I had never experienced pain like this before – and hoped I never would again.
“It’ll be a major operation”, he continued, “lasting several hours and requiring several weeks stay in hospital. You’ll also have to spend the night following surgery in intensive care”.
Friday, 15 January 2010
Extracts from the Joint Journals
I don’t know what made me look at my pressure sore dressing but I felt that something wasn’t right. The entire dressing was black – ink black – and the black gung was oozing down my leg and onto my nightshirt and dressing gown.
She had a good look at my hip then said that I’d need to go to hospital.
“Do you have any transport to get you to hospital”, she enquired.
“Yes”, I replied.
“Good. Other wise I would have called 999….”.
“I’m afraid we’re going to have to admit you”, he said, “your hip is infected. That’s why you are feeling ill. The infection has got into your blood stream”.
“How serious is it”, I asked.
“If we don’t do anything about it now, then it will become life threatening”, he replied.
She had a good look at my hip then said that I’d need to go to hospital.
“Do you have any transport to get you to hospital”, she enquired.
“Yes”, I replied.
“Good. Other wise I would have called 999….”.
“I’m afraid we’re going to have to admit you”, he said, “your hip is infected. That’s why you are feeling ill. The infection has got into your blood stream”.
“How serious is it”, I asked.
“If we don’t do anything about it now, then it will become life threatening”, he replied.
Tuesday, 12 January 2010
The Joint Journals
Starting here on Tuesday 19th January 2010
The full uncensored story of my joint and it's eight weeks in Sunderland Royal Hospital
Keep checking back for more details
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