I'm taking a break from the Joint Journal for a few weeks.
Don't worry I'll be back with lots more blogs after Easter.
Friday, 26 February 2010
Thursday, 25 February 2010
Day 37 – Five weeks today
Thursday 15th October 2009
I couldn’t believe that I had been in hospital for five weeks !!!
My wound hardly leaked at all during the night. There were only three small spots on my dressing which was good news.
Doctor Zara called into see me that morning and said I could do some gentle exercise. I was now allowed to walk to the loo and back. It may not have seemed like much, but it was fantastic news. I was really pleased as Mary, who was also confined to her bed, was a little low so I said I’d pop over later for a chat.
The lady who brought the WRVS trolley around the ward was now starting to pop in for a quick chat. She was really nice and we got to know each other quite well seeing as I’d been in hospital for a while.
The dietician came to see me again and asked how I was getting on. I replied I was getting fed up with having baked potato and salad for every meal. She was quite surprised.
“How would you feel if you got them twice a day, every day!”, I stressed.
The penny must have dropped, “I see what you mean”, she said.
“How would having say a baked potato one day for lunch and some cheese and crackers, the next”, she asked.
I tried to sound enthusiastic, but having three baked potatoes in two day instead of four in two days wasn’t anything to be excited about. Was that really the best she could come up with…
In side room 1 I could hear Alicia, the physio, reading the riot act. The woman had been a pain ever since she arrived a couple of days ago. She was advised by one of the nurses not to smoke before going down to theatre. She was not happy and demanded to speak to a doctor. Zara told her in no uncertain terms that she was not allowed to smoke and that was the end of the matter.
A couple of hours after she had been back on the ward following her surgery, she was yelling at the nurses to get her something to eat as she had gone all day without any food.
Today she was claiming that her back hurt so much she was unable to walk. That hadn’t stopped her walking down to the hospital foyer several times for a cigarette. Something which Alicia had noticed. Hence why she was reading her the riot act.
All the time they were walking, the woman kept saying it was hurting her, but Alicia was taking no notice. Alicia had had enough. “Do you want to go home”, she snapped at her.
The woman muttered that it hurt when she walked.
“YES OR NO!”, she cried.
“Yes”, said the woman.
“Well start walking and stop complaining…”.
During afternoon visiting Doctor Zara called in to see if I had any objections in having a student doctor come and ask a few questions. I was happy with that. It was hard to tell who was the patient though as I could hardly get a word in as my mam was answering all her questions…
Later my mam mentioned about one of her quilting friends husband who had an infection in a metal plate which was in his ankle.
“Just like you”, she said, “his ankle won’t stop leaking so he was in hospital for nine weeks”.
“Thanks for that”, I said, “that’s really cheered me up knowing I’ve still got another four weeks in hospital”….
Again, like yesterday, not long after I had taken the new antibiotics, I started to feel sick. This time though I knew I needed a bowl.
Mel, one of the auxiliary nurses who had brought me the bowl, popped her head gingerly around the door.
“Are you all right”, she asked.
“I’m fine thanks”, I replied, “I just had one wretch and that was it”.
It had got to be the new antibiotics. The strange thing was I didn’t feel sick when I took them on a morning. It only happened either at lunch or dinner time.
John explained during evening visiting that he had contacted the stair lift company which Gemma, the OT, had recommended.
“They’re coming out tomorrow to measure up”, he said.
That was brilliant news as there was every chance it would be installed for when I came out of hospital.
I did a naughty thing late that night. I was still taking the high calorie, multi-vitamin milk shake drinks twice a day, and instead of getting used to them, it was a real effort to get them down.
I felt like the Vicar of Dibley when she had to force her mouth open to eat a sprout, I had to force myself to take a couple of sips of the shake. After three sips I couldn’t face anymore so poured it down the sink.
That’s one advance of having your own room…
I couldn’t believe that I had been in hospital for five weeks !!!
My wound hardly leaked at all during the night. There were only three small spots on my dressing which was good news.
Doctor Zara called into see me that morning and said I could do some gentle exercise. I was now allowed to walk to the loo and back. It may not have seemed like much, but it was fantastic news. I was really pleased as Mary, who was also confined to her bed, was a little low so I said I’d pop over later for a chat.
The lady who brought the WRVS trolley around the ward was now starting to pop in for a quick chat. She was really nice and we got to know each other quite well seeing as I’d been in hospital for a while.
The dietician came to see me again and asked how I was getting on. I replied I was getting fed up with having baked potato and salad for every meal. She was quite surprised.
“How would you feel if you got them twice a day, every day!”, I stressed.
The penny must have dropped, “I see what you mean”, she said.
“How would having say a baked potato one day for lunch and some cheese and crackers, the next”, she asked.
I tried to sound enthusiastic, but having three baked potatoes in two day instead of four in two days wasn’t anything to be excited about. Was that really the best she could come up with…
In side room 1 I could hear Alicia, the physio, reading the riot act. The woman had been a pain ever since she arrived a couple of days ago. She was advised by one of the nurses not to smoke before going down to theatre. She was not happy and demanded to speak to a doctor. Zara told her in no uncertain terms that she was not allowed to smoke and that was the end of the matter.
A couple of hours after she had been back on the ward following her surgery, she was yelling at the nurses to get her something to eat as she had gone all day without any food.
Today she was claiming that her back hurt so much she was unable to walk. That hadn’t stopped her walking down to the hospital foyer several times for a cigarette. Something which Alicia had noticed. Hence why she was reading her the riot act.
All the time they were walking, the woman kept saying it was hurting her, but Alicia was taking no notice. Alicia had had enough. “Do you want to go home”, she snapped at her.
The woman muttered that it hurt when she walked.
“YES OR NO!”, she cried.
“Yes”, said the woman.
“Well start walking and stop complaining…”.
During afternoon visiting Doctor Zara called in to see if I had any objections in having a student doctor come and ask a few questions. I was happy with that. It was hard to tell who was the patient though as I could hardly get a word in as my mam was answering all her questions…
Later my mam mentioned about one of her quilting friends husband who had an infection in a metal plate which was in his ankle.
“Just like you”, she said, “his ankle won’t stop leaking so he was in hospital for nine weeks”.
“Thanks for that”, I said, “that’s really cheered me up knowing I’ve still got another four weeks in hospital”….
Again, like yesterday, not long after I had taken the new antibiotics, I started to feel sick. This time though I knew I needed a bowl.
Mel, one of the auxiliary nurses who had brought me the bowl, popped her head gingerly around the door.
“Are you all right”, she asked.
“I’m fine thanks”, I replied, “I just had one wretch and that was it”.
It had got to be the new antibiotics. The strange thing was I didn’t feel sick when I took them on a morning. It only happened either at lunch or dinner time.
John explained during evening visiting that he had contacted the stair lift company which Gemma, the OT, had recommended.
“They’re coming out tomorrow to measure up”, he said.
That was brilliant news as there was every chance it would be installed for when I came out of hospital.
I did a naughty thing late that night. I was still taking the high calorie, multi-vitamin milk shake drinks twice a day, and instead of getting used to them, it was a real effort to get them down.
I felt like the Vicar of Dibley when she had to force her mouth open to eat a sprout, I had to force myself to take a couple of sips of the shake. After three sips I couldn’t face anymore so poured it down the sink.
That’s one advance of having your own room…
Wednesday, 24 February 2010
Day 36 – Not much leaking
Wednesday 14th October 2009
I wasn’t going to get excited but my wound seemed to be hardly leaking. The dressing appeared to remain dry until about 4am when I checked and there was only a slight damp patch on the dressing. Maybe St Jude was working after all…
Mel, one of the auxiliary nurses, asked if I would like a bowl to get washed in.
“Am I able to have a shower”, I replied.
“Of course you can”, she said, who seemed a little surprised by my asking.
“I asked for one yesterday but was told I couldn’t because they were only two of them at this end and my dressing would get wet”.
“Rubbish!”, she exclaimed, “so what if there were only two of them, that still shouldn’t have stopped you having a shower”.
“Anyway”, she continued, “we always put a waterproof dressing over your original dressing to stop it getting wet so I can’t see what the problem was”.
My side room was next to the nurses station at the end of the ward, so not only did I hear everything what was going on, but I could see quite a bit. It was a great place for nurses to skive and quite often they would make sly phone calls to their husbands or mam’s either using the hospitals phone or secretly making calls or text messages from their banned mobiles. The nurses station was also a great place for them to do some internet shopping, their favourite sites being clothes and holidays...
Doctor Richard and a male nurse practitioner called into see me. I told them that my leaking seemed to be getting less.
“I’ll tell Mr Green”, said Doctor Richard, “He’ll be please about that”.
Sarah, one of the staff nurses, came to take some blood from me.
“You said you weren’t going to take anymore from me”, I asked.
“I thought I’d give it another go”, she said.
No matter how she tried, she still couldn’t get a sample. She was not a happy bunny and stormed off in a huff to get another nurse to do it.
I still had my arm outstretched when Doctor Zara popped in to see me. She asked what was the matter.
“I’ll be back in a minute”, she said after I had told her.
She returned with a handful of blood sample equipment.
“There”, she said, after she had taken the sample, “Easy”.
I later told Sarah what Zara had done and she wasn’t amused.
“If it’s any consolation”, I said, “she hurt, but you didn’t”.
She was pleased with that.
Zara had popped in to see how my leaking was doing. I told her but she didn’t seem that optimistic that it would clear up on it’s own.
“So it’s looking like another trip to the woodshed”, I said.
“To where”, she laughed.
I explained what I had started to call the operating theatre.
“That’s what I like about you”, she said, “you always seem to have a sense of humour about everything”.
“When you’ve been in here for as long as I have, you’ve got to”, I replied, “otherwise you’d get so depressed”.
I took my new antibiotic tablets about 15 minutes before dinner and felt extremely sickly. I didn’t know whether to ask for a sick bowl or just to let my stomach settle itself. I decided on the latter so wetted some paper towels and cooled my face as it had become really hot.
When the lunch trolley came, I didn’t feel like eating so kept refusing each nurses offer of food. Lisa, one of the staff nurses, was taking no for an answer so I explained about feeling sick.
“Are you taking iron tablets”, she asked.
“Yes”, I replied, “why”.
“Iron tablets taken on an empty stomach can cause sickness. It might be best to hold back taking them until you’ve eaten something”.
Andrew, the microbiologist, called just before afternoon visiting. He explained that normal blood had a count of 5. When I first came into hospital my count was 400. Now it was 40 so he was really pleased that the antibiotics were working to bring the count down to normal.
He then asked how I was feeling.
“I’m fine”, I replied, “just a little bored”.
“Would you like me to arrange so you can go into the main ward”.
I shook my head, “I’m ok here. It wouldn’t matter where I was, I would still be bored”.
“If you change your mind, just let me know and I’ll arrange it”, he said, “as you no longer need to be isolated”.
I asked why isolated.
“When you were first brought in, we didn’t know if you were contagious so had to isolate you from other patients”.
Charming !!!!!
I wasn’t going to get excited but my wound seemed to be hardly leaking. The dressing appeared to remain dry until about 4am when I checked and there was only a slight damp patch on the dressing. Maybe St Jude was working after all…
Mel, one of the auxiliary nurses, asked if I would like a bowl to get washed in.
“Am I able to have a shower”, I replied.
“Of course you can”, she said, who seemed a little surprised by my asking.
“I asked for one yesterday but was told I couldn’t because they were only two of them at this end and my dressing would get wet”.
“Rubbish!”, she exclaimed, “so what if there were only two of them, that still shouldn’t have stopped you having a shower”.
“Anyway”, she continued, “we always put a waterproof dressing over your original dressing to stop it getting wet so I can’t see what the problem was”.
My side room was next to the nurses station at the end of the ward, so not only did I hear everything what was going on, but I could see quite a bit. It was a great place for nurses to skive and quite often they would make sly phone calls to their husbands or mam’s either using the hospitals phone or secretly making calls or text messages from their banned mobiles. The nurses station was also a great place for them to do some internet shopping, their favourite sites being clothes and holidays...
Doctor Richard and a male nurse practitioner called into see me. I told them that my leaking seemed to be getting less.
“I’ll tell Mr Green”, said Doctor Richard, “He’ll be please about that”.
Sarah, one of the staff nurses, came to take some blood from me.
“You said you weren’t going to take anymore from me”, I asked.
“I thought I’d give it another go”, she said.
No matter how she tried, she still couldn’t get a sample. She was not a happy bunny and stormed off in a huff to get another nurse to do it.
I still had my arm outstretched when Doctor Zara popped in to see me. She asked what was the matter.
“I’ll be back in a minute”, she said after I had told her.
She returned with a handful of blood sample equipment.
“There”, she said, after she had taken the sample, “Easy”.
I later told Sarah what Zara had done and she wasn’t amused.
“If it’s any consolation”, I said, “she hurt, but you didn’t”.
She was pleased with that.
Zara had popped in to see how my leaking was doing. I told her but she didn’t seem that optimistic that it would clear up on it’s own.
“So it’s looking like another trip to the woodshed”, I said.
“To where”, she laughed.
I explained what I had started to call the operating theatre.
“That’s what I like about you”, she said, “you always seem to have a sense of humour about everything”.
“When you’ve been in here for as long as I have, you’ve got to”, I replied, “otherwise you’d get so depressed”.
I took my new antibiotic tablets about 15 minutes before dinner and felt extremely sickly. I didn’t know whether to ask for a sick bowl or just to let my stomach settle itself. I decided on the latter so wetted some paper towels and cooled my face as it had become really hot.
When the lunch trolley came, I didn’t feel like eating so kept refusing each nurses offer of food. Lisa, one of the staff nurses, was taking no for an answer so I explained about feeling sick.
“Are you taking iron tablets”, she asked.
“Yes”, I replied, “why”.
“Iron tablets taken on an empty stomach can cause sickness. It might be best to hold back taking them until you’ve eaten something”.
Andrew, the microbiologist, called just before afternoon visiting. He explained that normal blood had a count of 5. When I first came into hospital my count was 400. Now it was 40 so he was really pleased that the antibiotics were working to bring the count down to normal.
He then asked how I was feeling.
“I’m fine”, I replied, “just a little bored”.
“Would you like me to arrange so you can go into the main ward”.
I shook my head, “I’m ok here. It wouldn’t matter where I was, I would still be bored”.
“If you change your mind, just let me know and I’ll arrange it”, he said, “as you no longer need to be isolated”.
I asked why isolated.
“When you were first brought in, we didn’t know if you were contagious so had to isolate you from other patients”.
Charming !!!!!
Tuesday, 23 February 2010
Day 35 – A message to St Jude
Tuesday 13th October 2009
I was not getting my hopes up but my wound hadn’t been leaking as much during the night. I think it was probably down to the extra padding that was put on my dressing yesterday.
I still think another trip to the woodshed for a washout would be necessary. I made a prediction to myself that I would be home on 2nd November. I would have loved to be right, however knowing my luck I would still be in on the 2nd December….
Seeing has ‘Him upstairs’ wasn’t listening to me I asked John last night if there were any Patron Saints I could ask for help. John replied that there was a Patron Saint of Lost Causes – St Jude. Perfect !
Since I had been in hospital I had had only 2 showers and three hair washes. I could only be thankful that I wasn’t the sort of person who freaked out if they didn’t have their daily shower or hair wash. When you are in hospital, you have to be prepared to be ‘low maintenance’….
Sister Clarke, the Ward Manager, called into say good morning and to ask how I was getting on with my tiger cross stitch. She had noticed it yesterday when she accompanied Kermit on his rounds. That was the first time Sister Clarke had done anything like that. Normally she didn’t have anything to do with patients.
Doctors Zara and Richard both popped to tell me that my antibiotics were changing. Thanks guys but I already knew…
I asked Sarah, one of the staff nurses, if I could have a shower.
“No”, she replied, “we don’t have the staff”.
“But I don’t need any help in the shower”, I replied.
“That’s not the point”, she said, “your dressing will get wet and there is only myself and one auxiliary nurse working down this end of the ward. We can’t drop everything just to change your dressing when you come out of the shower”.
That was me told!!!
I mentioned to my mam that afternoon that my ‘contraband’ was getting low so I would ask John to get me some more when he went shopping.
“I’ll bring a banana in tomorrow if you like”, she said.
That’s not quite what I had in mind….
One of the nurses asked if I would like John to take me down to the little café or the restaurant for a break from the ward. I said thanks but no. I didn’t want to see people in the café or restaurant, knowing that they were able to go home and I couldn’t.
The new antibiotics I started taking yesterday ran out at lunch time. The pharmacy department had only sent enough for three doses – I was to take them for until 5th November…
The nurses were hopeful that they would arrive sometime that afternoon. I had been here before so I didn’t share their optimism.
“Here’s your antibiotic”, announced one of the nurses at 7pm.
She handed me the tablet.
“What about the rest of them”, I asked, “don’t they normally go into my medicine locker”.
“They only sent two”, she replied, “one of now and the other to be taken at midnight”.
She then explained that I was to tell the night staff that I had missed lunch time’s doze so was to take it at midnight.
I mentioned this to the night staff but they refused to give it to me. Apparently they couldn’t guarantee that it would be given to me at precisely midnight. A minute or two after midnight would mean it would be into the following day, and I was only allowed to take them four times a day. As none of the clocks in the hospital were right, what did a couple of minutes matter !!!!
When the night shift nurses were briefed on what had been happening to the patients on the wards, I heard Sarah mention that she thought my wound wasn’t leaking as much as yesterday so was hopeful it would stop shortly.
Could my message to St Jude be working….
I was not getting my hopes up but my wound hadn’t been leaking as much during the night. I think it was probably down to the extra padding that was put on my dressing yesterday.
I still think another trip to the woodshed for a washout would be necessary. I made a prediction to myself that I would be home on 2nd November. I would have loved to be right, however knowing my luck I would still be in on the 2nd December….
Seeing has ‘Him upstairs’ wasn’t listening to me I asked John last night if there were any Patron Saints I could ask for help. John replied that there was a Patron Saint of Lost Causes – St Jude. Perfect !
Since I had been in hospital I had had only 2 showers and three hair washes. I could only be thankful that I wasn’t the sort of person who freaked out if they didn’t have their daily shower or hair wash. When you are in hospital, you have to be prepared to be ‘low maintenance’….
Sister Clarke, the Ward Manager, called into say good morning and to ask how I was getting on with my tiger cross stitch. She had noticed it yesterday when she accompanied Kermit on his rounds. That was the first time Sister Clarke had done anything like that. Normally she didn’t have anything to do with patients.
Doctors Zara and Richard both popped to tell me that my antibiotics were changing. Thanks guys but I already knew…
I asked Sarah, one of the staff nurses, if I could have a shower.
“No”, she replied, “we don’t have the staff”.
“But I don’t need any help in the shower”, I replied.
“That’s not the point”, she said, “your dressing will get wet and there is only myself and one auxiliary nurse working down this end of the ward. We can’t drop everything just to change your dressing when you come out of the shower”.
That was me told!!!
I mentioned to my mam that afternoon that my ‘contraband’ was getting low so I would ask John to get me some more when he went shopping.
“I’ll bring a banana in tomorrow if you like”, she said.
That’s not quite what I had in mind….
One of the nurses asked if I would like John to take me down to the little café or the restaurant for a break from the ward. I said thanks but no. I didn’t want to see people in the café or restaurant, knowing that they were able to go home and I couldn’t.
The new antibiotics I started taking yesterday ran out at lunch time. The pharmacy department had only sent enough for three doses – I was to take them for until 5th November…
The nurses were hopeful that they would arrive sometime that afternoon. I had been here before so I didn’t share their optimism.
“Here’s your antibiotic”, announced one of the nurses at 7pm.
She handed me the tablet.
“What about the rest of them”, I asked, “don’t they normally go into my medicine locker”.
“They only sent two”, she replied, “one of now and the other to be taken at midnight”.
She then explained that I was to tell the night staff that I had missed lunch time’s doze so was to take it at midnight.
I mentioned this to the night staff but they refused to give it to me. Apparently they couldn’t guarantee that it would be given to me at precisely midnight. A minute or two after midnight would mean it would be into the following day, and I was only allowed to take them four times a day. As none of the clocks in the hospital were right, what did a couple of minutes matter !!!!
When the night shift nurses were briefed on what had been happening to the patients on the wards, I heard Sarah mention that she thought my wound wasn’t leaking as much as yesterday so was hopeful it would stop shortly.
Could my message to St Jude be working….
Monday, 22 February 2010
Day 34 – Another week !!!!!!!
Monday 12th October 2009
I should have been waking up with the excitement of going home sometime today. However because of my leaking wound, I was still stuck here. It was pointless dwelling on it though so just dismissed it.
Doctor Zara popped just after 7am as she wanted to see how my wound was doing. I asked about the redness which Sister Charlton had noticed yesterday. She replied it wasn’t anything to worry about. She could see that it was still leaking so said she would have a good look at it when the dressing was changed.
“I’ll then have to have a word with the ‘boss. Is that ok,’” she asked.
I must have looked a little puzzled.
“A lot of patients think we’re Gods and expect us to work miracles so get really nasty when things go wrong or we can’t give then an answer”.
“What’s the point of getting angry with you”, I replied, “it’s not your fault that my wound is still leaking. It’s Him upstairs, He’s ignoring me…”.
“I’m glad you can see the funny side of it”, she laughed, “I like coming to visit you as you’re no bother”.
Kermit came as normal, just after breakfast. He explained that following the washout last week, another couple of bugs had been found. He was going to have a chat with Andrew, the microbiologist, about changing my antibiotics.
He shrugged his shoulders, “These things happen. We’ll keep an eye on it for another week or so to see if things settle down. If not then I’m afraid it’ll be a bigger washout”.
There was one good thing with being stuck in hospital – I was losing my excess weight. It probably wasn’t the best way to diet but at least it was working.
Gemma, the OT, called and I asked if she had and information regarding stair lifts. She replied that social services make the referrals for getting them installed so would have a word with the social worker.
Doctor Zara had a look at my wound this afternoon. She said it wasn’t as bad as she first thought. The skin was nice and dry and that the oozing was just coming from one tiny area.
She explained that Andrew, the microbiologist, was growing some more bugs to see if they were the same as what they found in the washout. Then they would be able to assess if my antibiotics would be needed to be changed.
“Although things do appear to be bleak”, she said, trying to reassure me, “it really isn’t that bad”.
I was confined to bed/chair rest for the rest of the day and she would have another look at my wound tomorrow.
As Sarah and Natalie wheeled my bed back to the side room I asked if there were any long service awards for patients.
“Sadly no”, she replied….
Andrew and a female microbiologist colleague, called into see me after lunch.
“We found four bugs during the washout”, he explained, “two we already knew about so they were ok. However the other two were new to us”.
“Are they nasty”, I replied, “like Cdif”.
He shook his head, “No. What I would suggest though is you wash your hands before you eat anything as Cdif can be caused by antibiotics”.
“It’s just a precaution”, reassured his colleague.
I would now going to be put onto three different antibiotics tablets as the ‘orange wee’ ones wouldn’t kill off the bug which was causing the leaking.
Terraseeta, one of the lovely Filipino staff nurses, came to take some more blood. I explained I was hard to take blood from.
“I know”, she replied, “it’s now on your records that you’re a problem blood taker. Some nurses have now refused to take it from you”.
Charming !!!!!!!! It’s not like a have a hissy fit or pass out whenever it’s taken.
“You’ve got guts in trying to get some from me”, I said.
“I’ve got the knack”, she winked.
And she had….
The nice lady Chaplin visited the ward again that afternoon. She asked how I got on with my washout. I explained it was still leaking. She tried her hardest to put a good spin on it.
Nice try….
I should have been waking up with the excitement of going home sometime today. However because of my leaking wound, I was still stuck here. It was pointless dwelling on it though so just dismissed it.
Doctor Zara popped just after 7am as she wanted to see how my wound was doing. I asked about the redness which Sister Charlton had noticed yesterday. She replied it wasn’t anything to worry about. She could see that it was still leaking so said she would have a good look at it when the dressing was changed.
“I’ll then have to have a word with the ‘boss. Is that ok,’” she asked.
I must have looked a little puzzled.
“A lot of patients think we’re Gods and expect us to work miracles so get really nasty when things go wrong or we can’t give then an answer”.
“What’s the point of getting angry with you”, I replied, “it’s not your fault that my wound is still leaking. It’s Him upstairs, He’s ignoring me…”.
“I’m glad you can see the funny side of it”, she laughed, “I like coming to visit you as you’re no bother”.
Kermit came as normal, just after breakfast. He explained that following the washout last week, another couple of bugs had been found. He was going to have a chat with Andrew, the microbiologist, about changing my antibiotics.
He shrugged his shoulders, “These things happen. We’ll keep an eye on it for another week or so to see if things settle down. If not then I’m afraid it’ll be a bigger washout”.
There was one good thing with being stuck in hospital – I was losing my excess weight. It probably wasn’t the best way to diet but at least it was working.
Gemma, the OT, called and I asked if she had and information regarding stair lifts. She replied that social services make the referrals for getting them installed so would have a word with the social worker.
Doctor Zara had a look at my wound this afternoon. She said it wasn’t as bad as she first thought. The skin was nice and dry and that the oozing was just coming from one tiny area.
She explained that Andrew, the microbiologist, was growing some more bugs to see if they were the same as what they found in the washout. Then they would be able to assess if my antibiotics would be needed to be changed.
“Although things do appear to be bleak”, she said, trying to reassure me, “it really isn’t that bad”.
I was confined to bed/chair rest for the rest of the day and she would have another look at my wound tomorrow.
As Sarah and Natalie wheeled my bed back to the side room I asked if there were any long service awards for patients.
“Sadly no”, she replied….
Andrew and a female microbiologist colleague, called into see me after lunch.
“We found four bugs during the washout”, he explained, “two we already knew about so they were ok. However the other two were new to us”.
“Are they nasty”, I replied, “like Cdif”.
He shook his head, “No. What I would suggest though is you wash your hands before you eat anything as Cdif can be caused by antibiotics”.
“It’s just a precaution”, reassured his colleague.
I would now going to be put onto three different antibiotics tablets as the ‘orange wee’ ones wouldn’t kill off the bug which was causing the leaking.
Terraseeta, one of the lovely Filipino staff nurses, came to take some more blood. I explained I was hard to take blood from.
“I know”, she replied, “it’s now on your records that you’re a problem blood taker. Some nurses have now refused to take it from you”.
Charming !!!!!!!! It’s not like a have a hissy fit or pass out whenever it’s taken.
“You’ve got guts in trying to get some from me”, I said.
“I’ve got the knack”, she winked.
And she had….
The nice lady Chaplin visited the ward again that afternoon. She asked how I got on with my washout. I explained it was still leaking. She tried her hardest to put a good spin on it.
Nice try….
Sunday, 21 February 2010
Day 33 – Water, water, everywhere
Sunday 11th October 2009
My wound had been leaking during the night which didn’t come as any surprise. I knew there was no chance that I would be going home tomorrow.
The bays on the ward were practically empty. They were getting nine admissions during the day so the peace and quiet wouldn’t last long.
One of the men who was admitted yesterday came over to say hello to me and Mary. I had been confined to bed/chair rest to try and stop my wound from leaking, so Mary had popped over for a quick chat.
Sister Charlton came to change my dressing and was still optimistic that the leaking was coming from a pocket of blood. I wanted to believe her, but I knew deep down that it wasn’t, and that I would have to go to the woodshed again. Still, it could have been worse. I could have gone home, found it was leaking and have to go back into hospital. That would have been sole destroying.
Later that morning I noticed there was water on my side room window, which over looked the nurses station. I got up to have a close look and saw that water was running down the nurses side of the window. I saw Sister Charlton walking passed the nurses station so called her over to take a look.
She looked up at the ceiling above the nurses station and saw that water was dripping through the ceiling tiles.
“Bloody hell”, she yelled.
She rang the ward that was directly above us but got no answer so ran upstairs to the ward.
She came back ten minutes later to say that an elderly, confused, gentleman had been turning on all the taps in the wards.
Half an hour later an emergency workman arrived to remove the ceiling tiles to let them dry out.
Doris, the lady in side ward 1, sent in some magazines for me to read. They weren’t my type so gave them to Mary who was over the moon with them.
Hardly saw much of Mary for the rest of the day as we were both confined to quarters. Mary’s leg was still swollen so it was bed rest for her too.
No change on the wound front. It was still leaking considerably.
Had two visits from John, which were lovely, as I normally only got to see him on an evening the rest of the week. He was able to take with him some of my dirty laundry seeing as my mam didn’t visit on Sundays.
My mam had developed a fascination with my locker. She was forever tiding it up. She would arrange it to how she wanted it, not what was practical for me, and woe betide if I or a nurse put something in the wrong place !!!! It started to get irritating as no sooner had she arrived, she was desperate to get to the locker.
Whenever the physio’s took me walking on an afternoon and she was visiting, rather than watch and see how I was progressing, she would ignore me and tend to the locker instead. It must be nice to be loved…
My wound had been leaking during the night which didn’t come as any surprise. I knew there was no chance that I would be going home tomorrow.
The bays on the ward were practically empty. They were getting nine admissions during the day so the peace and quiet wouldn’t last long.
One of the men who was admitted yesterday came over to say hello to me and Mary. I had been confined to bed/chair rest to try and stop my wound from leaking, so Mary had popped over for a quick chat.
Sister Charlton came to change my dressing and was still optimistic that the leaking was coming from a pocket of blood. I wanted to believe her, but I knew deep down that it wasn’t, and that I would have to go to the woodshed again. Still, it could have been worse. I could have gone home, found it was leaking and have to go back into hospital. That would have been sole destroying.
Later that morning I noticed there was water on my side room window, which over looked the nurses station. I got up to have a close look and saw that water was running down the nurses side of the window. I saw Sister Charlton walking passed the nurses station so called her over to take a look.
She looked up at the ceiling above the nurses station and saw that water was dripping through the ceiling tiles.
“Bloody hell”, she yelled.
She rang the ward that was directly above us but got no answer so ran upstairs to the ward.
She came back ten minutes later to say that an elderly, confused, gentleman had been turning on all the taps in the wards.
Half an hour later an emergency workman arrived to remove the ceiling tiles to let them dry out.
Doris, the lady in side ward 1, sent in some magazines for me to read. They weren’t my type so gave them to Mary who was over the moon with them.
Hardly saw much of Mary for the rest of the day as we were both confined to quarters. Mary’s leg was still swollen so it was bed rest for her too.
No change on the wound front. It was still leaking considerably.
Had two visits from John, which were lovely, as I normally only got to see him on an evening the rest of the week. He was able to take with him some of my dirty laundry seeing as my mam didn’t visit on Sundays.
My mam had developed a fascination with my locker. She was forever tiding it up. She would arrange it to how she wanted it, not what was practical for me, and woe betide if I or a nurse put something in the wrong place !!!! It started to get irritating as no sooner had she arrived, she was desperate to get to the locker.
Whenever the physio’s took me walking on an afternoon and she was visiting, rather than watch and see how I was progressing, she would ignore me and tend to the locker instead. It must be nice to be loved…
Saturday, 20 February 2010
Day 32 – Gutted !!!!!!!
Saturday 10th October 2009
Got up just after 6am as my shoulder had been really aching during the night. I had been trying to get by without taking any painkillers but needed some now.
Found out the reason why I was moved to ward 44. Liz, one of the domestics, said that I was supposed to stay on Ward 43 but they needed the bed urgently. Ward 44 didn’t normally take infection patients as it was a ‘sterile’ ward. All the patients who came into ward 44 had been screened for super bugs several weeks before they were admitted. As I was ‘unclean’ I had to be put into a side ward out of the way of other patients.
I was just drying my legs, having given them a quick wash, when I noticed my towel had a couple of spots of blood on it. I glanced down at the floor and saw a huge puddle. My wound was gushing of blood.
NO !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Carmel, one of the staff nurses, was sitting at the computer on the nurses work station so I asked her if she wouldn’t mind coming into my room.
“My wound’s leaking”, I said.
“I can see that”, she replied, “you’ve got a nice puddle on the floor”.
She dash off to the dressing room to get a wheelchair, while I tried to, unsuccessfully, to stop the bleeding.
To make it easier for Carmel to remove my dressing I leant against the wheelchair. She slowly pulled the dressing away from my skin, knowing that I was sensitive there.
As soon as the dressing was off, blood gushed out of my wound. It went everywhere !!!!! My leg, my slipper, the floor…
Carmel looked at the wound to see where it was bleeding. It was coming from two of the staples at the bottom of my wound.
“I don’t think you’ll be going home on Monday”, she said.
“Don’t tell anyone”, I whispered, “I won’t tell if you won’t”.
“You’ve got 48 hours”, she said, trying to be helpful. “It might have dried up by then”.
Who was she kidding. Knowing my luck it would be another trip to the woodshed. I was so disappointed but what could I do. Crying wouldn’t make it dry up so I just had to accept it and get over it.
Had a chat with two of the men in the men’s bay opposite my side ward. I always said hello to them whenever I was passing on the way to the loo. There were only two of them in the bay and both told me they were going home that afternoon. Thanks guys, I really appreciated that…
At this rate there will only be me and Mary (side room 3) left. Knowing my luck, even Doris, who actually had died but was brought back to life, would be going home before us.
I hoped I was wrong but I had a gut feeling that I would have to have another trip to the woodshed for another washout. I was trying to stay positive but it was very hard when every thing seemed to be going against me. Someone, somewhere must be having fun putting pins in a ‘Marie’ doll….
My run of bad luck kept on coming. While I was at the loo my wound started leaking quite badly, then Joanne and Anton, the weekend physios, came to try me walking up and down steps.
Because I didn’t have a hip I couldn’t lift my leg up onto the steps. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t move it. One of the problems seemed to be that I couldn’t bend my knees as they were still very swollen. Double bummer !!!!!
I did manage to heave myself up one step, but Joanne pointed out that lifting both legs in the air and using my arms to move my body up the stairs, wasn’t a good idea….
As I was going to be stuck like this for several months, the only option I could see would be getting a stair lift installed. Joanne suggested we moved into a bungalow. If only it was a simple as that.
Sister Charlton had popped into my room to do a whirl-wind clean of my table, just before John arrived for evening visiting, and I got wrong again for ‘flashing’. I wasn’t wearing a skirt but my t-shirt was the same length as my nightshirt. I couldn’t see what the problem was. However to keep her happy, I covered my legs with my dressing gown.
She told me not to be despondent about my wound leaking as it could just be residue left from my op. I wished I could be that optimistic.
My wound was leaking again so Mel put a temporary dressing on it until Sister Charlton could see to it. Sister Charlton had just finished replacing my dressing when John arrived. I guessed he knew by what was going on that my wound had been leaking. I was so glad it broke the ice as I was really worried that I would start to cry, given what sort of a day I had had.
I explained what had happened and how I wasn’t able to climb the stairs.
“Don’t worry about it”, he said, “we’ll find a way. Nothing beats us”.
We had a chat about stair lifts and John promised to do some research on the internet.
After John had gone home I went into Mary’s room for a chat and told her about the stair lift. She suggested I had a word with Gemma, the OT, as she might be able to help.
When Sister Charlton handed over to the nightshift nurses she mentioned that ‘our Marie’s’ wound was leaking and the three nurses all agreed it was a shame. Sister said she hoped it was just a build-up of discharge from the op.
Just after 9pm, Mary, having been to the loo, called in for a chat. She was still there at 11.20pm. It was lovely having some company and the nurses weren’t bothered. They even brought a drip stand so Mary could be hooked up to her antibiotics. That wouldn’t have happened in ward 43.
Even though it was after midnight I decided to raid my contraband. I had had a horrible day and I need chocolate – lots of it !!!!!
Got up just after 6am as my shoulder had been really aching during the night. I had been trying to get by without taking any painkillers but needed some now.
Found out the reason why I was moved to ward 44. Liz, one of the domestics, said that I was supposed to stay on Ward 43 but they needed the bed urgently. Ward 44 didn’t normally take infection patients as it was a ‘sterile’ ward. All the patients who came into ward 44 had been screened for super bugs several weeks before they were admitted. As I was ‘unclean’ I had to be put into a side ward out of the way of other patients.
I was just drying my legs, having given them a quick wash, when I noticed my towel had a couple of spots of blood on it. I glanced down at the floor and saw a huge puddle. My wound was gushing of blood.
NO !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Carmel, one of the staff nurses, was sitting at the computer on the nurses work station so I asked her if she wouldn’t mind coming into my room.
“My wound’s leaking”, I said.
“I can see that”, she replied, “you’ve got a nice puddle on the floor”.
She dash off to the dressing room to get a wheelchair, while I tried to, unsuccessfully, to stop the bleeding.
To make it easier for Carmel to remove my dressing I leant against the wheelchair. She slowly pulled the dressing away from my skin, knowing that I was sensitive there.
As soon as the dressing was off, blood gushed out of my wound. It went everywhere !!!!! My leg, my slipper, the floor…
Carmel looked at the wound to see where it was bleeding. It was coming from two of the staples at the bottom of my wound.
“I don’t think you’ll be going home on Monday”, she said.
“Don’t tell anyone”, I whispered, “I won’t tell if you won’t”.
“You’ve got 48 hours”, she said, trying to be helpful. “It might have dried up by then”.
Who was she kidding. Knowing my luck it would be another trip to the woodshed. I was so disappointed but what could I do. Crying wouldn’t make it dry up so I just had to accept it and get over it.
Had a chat with two of the men in the men’s bay opposite my side ward. I always said hello to them whenever I was passing on the way to the loo. There were only two of them in the bay and both told me they were going home that afternoon. Thanks guys, I really appreciated that…
At this rate there will only be me and Mary (side room 3) left. Knowing my luck, even Doris, who actually had died but was brought back to life, would be going home before us.
I hoped I was wrong but I had a gut feeling that I would have to have another trip to the woodshed for another washout. I was trying to stay positive but it was very hard when every thing seemed to be going against me. Someone, somewhere must be having fun putting pins in a ‘Marie’ doll….
My run of bad luck kept on coming. While I was at the loo my wound started leaking quite badly, then Joanne and Anton, the weekend physios, came to try me walking up and down steps.
Because I didn’t have a hip I couldn’t lift my leg up onto the steps. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t move it. One of the problems seemed to be that I couldn’t bend my knees as they were still very swollen. Double bummer !!!!!
I did manage to heave myself up one step, but Joanne pointed out that lifting both legs in the air and using my arms to move my body up the stairs, wasn’t a good idea….
As I was going to be stuck like this for several months, the only option I could see would be getting a stair lift installed. Joanne suggested we moved into a bungalow. If only it was a simple as that.
Sister Charlton had popped into my room to do a whirl-wind clean of my table, just before John arrived for evening visiting, and I got wrong again for ‘flashing’. I wasn’t wearing a skirt but my t-shirt was the same length as my nightshirt. I couldn’t see what the problem was. However to keep her happy, I covered my legs with my dressing gown.
She told me not to be despondent about my wound leaking as it could just be residue left from my op. I wished I could be that optimistic.
My wound was leaking again so Mel put a temporary dressing on it until Sister Charlton could see to it. Sister Charlton had just finished replacing my dressing when John arrived. I guessed he knew by what was going on that my wound had been leaking. I was so glad it broke the ice as I was really worried that I would start to cry, given what sort of a day I had had.
I explained what had happened and how I wasn’t able to climb the stairs.
“Don’t worry about it”, he said, “we’ll find a way. Nothing beats us”.
We had a chat about stair lifts and John promised to do some research on the internet.
After John had gone home I went into Mary’s room for a chat and told her about the stair lift. She suggested I had a word with Gemma, the OT, as she might be able to help.
When Sister Charlton handed over to the nightshift nurses she mentioned that ‘our Marie’s’ wound was leaking and the three nurses all agreed it was a shame. Sister said she hoped it was just a build-up of discharge from the op.
Just after 9pm, Mary, having been to the loo, called in for a chat. She was still there at 11.20pm. It was lovely having some company and the nurses weren’t bothered. They even brought a drip stand so Mary could be hooked up to her antibiotics. That wouldn’t have happened in ward 43.
Even though it was after midnight I decided to raid my contraband. I had had a horrible day and I need chocolate – lots of it !!!!!
Friday, 19 February 2010
Day 31 – Good news
Friday 9th October 2009
My blood pressure was slowly getting back to normal. Compared to other patients it was low, but that was ‘normal’ for me.
My dressing was still dry so I was keeping my fingers crossed it would remain that way. I was so looking forward to going home. It seemed like a life time since I had been home.
Doctor Richard called into see how I was. He was really pleased the wound was dry.
Kermit arrived a little later. I wasn’t getting my hopes up but he said that if my wound remained dry for 24/48 hours I could go home on Monday !!!! Kermit asked if I had a history of DVT. I replied no, so I would no longer need to have the horrible stomach injections. Another bit of good news.
Had a chat with Sister Charlton as I was concerned about a couple of things. I had received an appointment in November to see the ‘Man Himself’s’ side kick about my knee. As Kermit was now my orthopaedic consultant, would he be looking after my knee. She wasn’t sure so said she would have a chat with him as each consultant specialised in different areas – Kermit was hips and ‘the Man Himself’ was knees.
Sister Charlton asked how I got on with the social worker. I explained that I didn’t think they could do anything for me. She didn’t seem surprised…
I then asked her about what Kermit had said about me going home on Monday. As the occupational therapist had said I could only be released on a weekday, they wouldn’t know I was leaving until Monday. That would mean I would have to spend another day in hospital. She told me not to worry and that she would have a word with Gemma.
For the first time since I had been in hospital I felt good about myself. Natalie had washed my hair (the first time in over eight days. Yuck !!!), I was able to put on a skirt as my wound wasn’t leaking and I was going home on Monday.
I heard Sister Charlton tell the afternoon shift nurses at 12.30pm that provided my wound remained dry, I was going home on Monday. I wouldn’t say I had been in hospital a long time but Sister Charlton was now referring to me as ‘Our Marie’.
I was trying not to get too excited but it was brilliant news. I kept checking my dressing every five minutes to see if it was leaking.
Having been in two different orthopaedic wards during my stay in hospital, they were both different in many ways. With the exception of Kay, ward 43 had the worst nightshift nurses; the dayshift nurses on ward 44 were just slightly more friendlier than ward 43; ward 43 was the cleanest out of two wards, yet ward 44 had the friendliest domestics.
The ward manager sister, Deb, on 43 was more friendlier than her counterpart on ward 44, Sister Clarke. She ran 44 with a rod of iron and didn’t have much in the way of patient involvement, where as Deb was very much hands on with the patients. The other sister on ward 43 was friendly but I didn’t see her very much, whereas Sister Charlton on 44 was always there ready to help in anyway she could. You normally heard her first as she was very loud, bubbly and sang a lot.
True to her word, Sister Charlton came back and said she had spoken with Gemma. If I were to go home on Monday the commode would be delivered on the afternoon. Sister Charlton also had a chat with the social worker and confirmed that as there wasn’t anything they could do for me, they were closing my case.
Gemma popped into see me later that morning with a set of wheels – my wheelchair. She reiterated what Sister Charlton had said about the commode so advised me to go to the loo before I left the hospital as I wouldn’t be able to have a wee until the commode arrived. I made a mental note not to drink very much that morning…
Went for another walk with Alicia and Lisa using the crutches. On Monday they would like to try me walking up and down the stairs before I go home. I was happy with that as I wanted to get rid of the commode as soon as possible.
Mary who was in side room 1 had gone to a convalescent home on Wednesday so her room now had an elderly lady, called Doris, from a nursing home. Doris had just come back from the plaster room when she collapsed. The porter called for help and the first nurse to get there yelled for someone to call the Crash Team for side room 1.
The Crash Team arrived within 20 seconds which was pretty good going. My mam had just arrived for afternoon visiting and she looked rather pale.
“Are you ok”, I asked.
“I am now”, she replied.
She had just entered the ward when she heard someone shout for the Crash Team for side room 1. She thought it was for my room.
The Crash Team stayed on the ward for hours but I’m pleased to say that Doris was fine.
My blood pressure was slowly getting back to normal. Compared to other patients it was low, but that was ‘normal’ for me.
My dressing was still dry so I was keeping my fingers crossed it would remain that way. I was so looking forward to going home. It seemed like a life time since I had been home.
Doctor Richard called into see how I was. He was really pleased the wound was dry.
Kermit arrived a little later. I wasn’t getting my hopes up but he said that if my wound remained dry for 24/48 hours I could go home on Monday !!!! Kermit asked if I had a history of DVT. I replied no, so I would no longer need to have the horrible stomach injections. Another bit of good news.
Had a chat with Sister Charlton as I was concerned about a couple of things. I had received an appointment in November to see the ‘Man Himself’s’ side kick about my knee. As Kermit was now my orthopaedic consultant, would he be looking after my knee. She wasn’t sure so said she would have a chat with him as each consultant specialised in different areas – Kermit was hips and ‘the Man Himself’ was knees.
Sister Charlton asked how I got on with the social worker. I explained that I didn’t think they could do anything for me. She didn’t seem surprised…
I then asked her about what Kermit had said about me going home on Monday. As the occupational therapist had said I could only be released on a weekday, they wouldn’t know I was leaving until Monday. That would mean I would have to spend another day in hospital. She told me not to worry and that she would have a word with Gemma.
For the first time since I had been in hospital I felt good about myself. Natalie had washed my hair (the first time in over eight days. Yuck !!!), I was able to put on a skirt as my wound wasn’t leaking and I was going home on Monday.
I heard Sister Charlton tell the afternoon shift nurses at 12.30pm that provided my wound remained dry, I was going home on Monday. I wouldn’t say I had been in hospital a long time but Sister Charlton was now referring to me as ‘Our Marie’.
I was trying not to get too excited but it was brilliant news. I kept checking my dressing every five minutes to see if it was leaking.
Having been in two different orthopaedic wards during my stay in hospital, they were both different in many ways. With the exception of Kay, ward 43 had the worst nightshift nurses; the dayshift nurses on ward 44 were just slightly more friendlier than ward 43; ward 43 was the cleanest out of two wards, yet ward 44 had the friendliest domestics.
The ward manager sister, Deb, on 43 was more friendlier than her counterpart on ward 44, Sister Clarke. She ran 44 with a rod of iron and didn’t have much in the way of patient involvement, where as Deb was very much hands on with the patients. The other sister on ward 43 was friendly but I didn’t see her very much, whereas Sister Charlton on 44 was always there ready to help in anyway she could. You normally heard her first as she was very loud, bubbly and sang a lot.
True to her word, Sister Charlton came back and said she had spoken with Gemma. If I were to go home on Monday the commode would be delivered on the afternoon. Sister Charlton also had a chat with the social worker and confirmed that as there wasn’t anything they could do for me, they were closing my case.
Gemma popped into see me later that morning with a set of wheels – my wheelchair. She reiterated what Sister Charlton had said about the commode so advised me to go to the loo before I left the hospital as I wouldn’t be able to have a wee until the commode arrived. I made a mental note not to drink very much that morning…
Went for another walk with Alicia and Lisa using the crutches. On Monday they would like to try me walking up and down the stairs before I go home. I was happy with that as I wanted to get rid of the commode as soon as possible.
Mary who was in side room 1 had gone to a convalescent home on Wednesday so her room now had an elderly lady, called Doris, from a nursing home. Doris had just come back from the plaster room when she collapsed. The porter called for help and the first nurse to get there yelled for someone to call the Crash Team for side room 1.
The Crash Team arrived within 20 seconds which was pretty good going. My mam had just arrived for afternoon visiting and she looked rather pale.
“Are you ok”, I asked.
“I am now”, she replied.
She had just entered the ward when she heard someone shout for the Crash Team for side room 1. She thought it was for my room.
The Crash Team stayed on the ward for hours but I’m pleased to say that Doris was fine.
Thursday, 18 February 2010
Day 30 – A light at the end of the tunnel
Thursday 8th October 2009
My hip hadn’t been giving me much in the way of grief during the night so I was pleased. A night off from any sort of pain would be wonderful.
Wasn’t able to get out of bed as I was still attached to my woodshed drain bottle. I remember when I had my hip replaced I filled two drain bottles with blood. Couldn’t quite see the amount but it looked about ¾ full.
I couldn’t believe that I had been in hospital for four weeks. Four weeks !!!! In one way it had dragged but in another it had flown by. If I hadn’t ‘lost’ six days because of my cold sore I might have been home by now. Bummer….
Kermit arrived, as he usually did, just before breakfast. He was going to monitor my wound for a couple of days and as long as it remained dry and that the physio’s were happy with me, I could go home. YIPPEE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Young Natalie came to take my blood pressure and it was 92. Even I thought that was low. She asked Tracey, one of the staff nurses, for advice. I had to lie flat and drink lots of fluid. Tracey said she would be back in half an hour to check my pressure again.
Half an hour later and it had gone down to 86. Tracey removed my pillows and told me to remain still for half an hour.
Another half an hour later, while Tracey was having a chat with Doctor Zara to see what to do next, Natalie checked my pressure again. It was now 102.
I could now have my pillows back but had to remain flat on the bed. It wasn’t easy doing cross stitch lying flat on your back….
Every time my pressure when up I was allowed to sit up a little bit more.
Got my drain out just before lunch and I was eventually allowed out of bed at 1.30pm.
Because of my low blood pressure I was back on the zimmer frame. Lisa, the physio, thought it best as I was more stable on the frame.
Tanya, one of the auxiliary nurses, tried to take some blood but whenever she put the needle in the ‘well was dry’. After about four attempts (my poor arms….) she had had enough and said she would get someone else to do it.
Lovely Louise, another auxiliary nurse, had drawn the short straw. She asked where was the best place to get blood. I pointed to a vein in my left arm.
“That’s the first time I’ve been asked that”, I said.
“I’ve always found the best person who knows where to get blood from is the patient themselves”.
She was right. Some nurses have a bit of a ego about them. They are the ones with the nursing qualifications, not you, so didn’t like being told what to do.
My hip hadn’t been giving me much in the way of grief during the night so I was pleased. A night off from any sort of pain would be wonderful.
Wasn’t able to get out of bed as I was still attached to my woodshed drain bottle. I remember when I had my hip replaced I filled two drain bottles with blood. Couldn’t quite see the amount but it looked about ¾ full.
I couldn’t believe that I had been in hospital for four weeks. Four weeks !!!! In one way it had dragged but in another it had flown by. If I hadn’t ‘lost’ six days because of my cold sore I might have been home by now. Bummer….
Kermit arrived, as he usually did, just before breakfast. He was going to monitor my wound for a couple of days and as long as it remained dry and that the physio’s were happy with me, I could go home. YIPPEE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Young Natalie came to take my blood pressure and it was 92. Even I thought that was low. She asked Tracey, one of the staff nurses, for advice. I had to lie flat and drink lots of fluid. Tracey said she would be back in half an hour to check my pressure again.
Half an hour later and it had gone down to 86. Tracey removed my pillows and told me to remain still for half an hour.
Another half an hour later, while Tracey was having a chat with Doctor Zara to see what to do next, Natalie checked my pressure again. It was now 102.
I could now have my pillows back but had to remain flat on the bed. It wasn’t easy doing cross stitch lying flat on your back….
Every time my pressure when up I was allowed to sit up a little bit more.
Got my drain out just before lunch and I was eventually allowed out of bed at 1.30pm.
Because of my low blood pressure I was back on the zimmer frame. Lisa, the physio, thought it best as I was more stable on the frame.
Tanya, one of the auxiliary nurses, tried to take some blood but whenever she put the needle in the ‘well was dry’. After about four attempts (my poor arms….) she had had enough and said she would get someone else to do it.
Lovely Louise, another auxiliary nurse, had drawn the short straw. She asked where was the best place to get blood. I pointed to a vein in my left arm.
“That’s the first time I’ve been asked that”, I said.
“I’ve always found the best person who knows where to get blood from is the patient themselves”.
She was right. Some nurses have a bit of a ego about them. They are the ones with the nursing qualifications, not you, so didn’t like being told what to do.
Wednesday, 17 February 2010
Day 29 – Trip to the woodshed
Wednesday 7th October 2009
Today was my trip to the woodshed – or was it...
I couldn’t help thinking that it wasn’t going to happen today and that it would be rescheduled for tomorrow. It was all well and good for them to say ‘sorry but we can’t fit you in today, we’ll do it tomorrow’, but it’s not them who had to do the actual waiting.
I was allowed to have breakfast at 8am instead of 6am, which meant that I would be late afternoon, at the earliest. I didn’t mind not having anything to eat, it was the lack of fluid that bothered me.
I was given a few sponge ‘lollipops’ to keep my lips from drying out but my mouth was so dry.
I thought I’d been quite nervous but I wasn’t too bad. It’s the waiting around that’s the worst. I was still concerned though about the anaesthetic.
Although I had been told many times that modern anaesthetics were better at preventing sickness, I couldn’t help think back to the time I had my hip replaced. I threw up constantly for 12 hours. It started at the beginning of the nurse nightshift so all I was given were a couple of kidney bowls and told just to get on with it.
I was hoping the anaesthetist would call and see me so I could have a chat with him.
Doctor Zara popped in for a chat. I asked her once the wound had been washed out etc, when would I be able to go home. She said in about another week. Another week !!!!!!!!!
Zara let slip that questions in high places had been asked as to why I was still in hospital. Apparently if a patient wasn’t home within what ‘they’ called a reasonable time, ‘they’ demanded to know why. I agreed with ‘them’, let me go home….
Doctor Richard also called in for me to sign the consent forms. He went through the various things that could go wrong and one of them was that I would need another washout if it didn’t stop leaking. Don’t even think about it !!!!
Had a visit from the social worker. After asking various questions, it turned out that there wasn’t anything she could do for me. Figures…
While I was waiting to go down to the woodshed, Alicia tried me walking on crutches again. Worked a fair way (well it was for me anyway) and wasn’t wobbly.
One of the nurses told me that my op would be due between 2pm – 2.30pm so I put on my theatre (or should that be woodshed) gown.
One of the woodshed nurses came to see me. She was doing a follow-up on patients who had recently been to the woodshed. She asked if I had any concerns about this visit. I mentioned about throwing up and she said she would have a word with the anaesthetist and that she would see me there sometime around 4pm. So much for 2pm….
The trolley came at 3pm so that wasn’t too bad. John, the young auxiliary nurse, was supposed to escort me down but Louise said she’d do it. I didn’t think she trusted him as he wasn’t the brightest of sparks.
While we waited for one of the woodshed nurses to book me in, we chatted about everything and anything. Bra sizes was one such topic… Louise commented that every time we had a chat it was never about medical things.
A young woodshed assistant ‘booked’ me in. He reminded me very much of ‘Owen’ from Torchwood. Once Louise had gone we had a good chat. The anaesthetists assistant from my last visit came over and said hello.
I was enjoying chatting to ‘Owen’ when another assistance came over and said he could go for his break as she would say with me. I tried talking to her but all I got was moans – she didn’t like her work, she didn’t like her husband. I was so glad when she had to leave to answer the phone.
The anaesthetist came over and introduced himself. Sadly it wasn’t the same one as last time. He told me that Kermit wouldn’t be doing the operation as he was still busy in theatre with another patient. I would be operated on by one underlings. I didn’t really like the anaesthetists manor. He wasn’t a very pleasant person. I explained about my throwing up to which he replied “I better put an apron on so you don’t vomit on my clothes”. Charming….
I started to wake up from the operation as I was being wheeled into the recovery room and was wide awake when I got there. My hip was throbbing and as I wasn’t connected to the morphine drip (they only did that for major operations) all they could give me was paracetamols.
‘Owen’ came over to say hello and asked if I was ok. The nurse who came to see me that afternoon asked if the anaesthetist had done anything for my sickness. I explained that he wasn’t that bothered. She was not amused.
I was back on the ward just before 6pm. Kairen, the South African staff nurse, had just got me settled when John arrived. He was most impressed that I was sitting up in bed waiting for him to come.
The nurses had kept a salad from the dinner trolley for me as they knew I’d be hungry when I got back, so Kairen brought it in for me.
As I was hooked up to a drip (I think it was something to re-hydrate me), John had to cut up my salad. He asked what the meat was in the salad. I wasn’t sure. It looked like no meat I’d ever seen before….
Today was my trip to the woodshed – or was it...
I couldn’t help thinking that it wasn’t going to happen today and that it would be rescheduled for tomorrow. It was all well and good for them to say ‘sorry but we can’t fit you in today, we’ll do it tomorrow’, but it’s not them who had to do the actual waiting.
I was allowed to have breakfast at 8am instead of 6am, which meant that I would be late afternoon, at the earliest. I didn’t mind not having anything to eat, it was the lack of fluid that bothered me.
I was given a few sponge ‘lollipops’ to keep my lips from drying out but my mouth was so dry.
I thought I’d been quite nervous but I wasn’t too bad. It’s the waiting around that’s the worst. I was still concerned though about the anaesthetic.
Although I had been told many times that modern anaesthetics were better at preventing sickness, I couldn’t help think back to the time I had my hip replaced. I threw up constantly for 12 hours. It started at the beginning of the nurse nightshift so all I was given were a couple of kidney bowls and told just to get on with it.
I was hoping the anaesthetist would call and see me so I could have a chat with him.
Doctor Zara popped in for a chat. I asked her once the wound had been washed out etc, when would I be able to go home. She said in about another week. Another week !!!!!!!!!
Zara let slip that questions in high places had been asked as to why I was still in hospital. Apparently if a patient wasn’t home within what ‘they’ called a reasonable time, ‘they’ demanded to know why. I agreed with ‘them’, let me go home….
Doctor Richard also called in for me to sign the consent forms. He went through the various things that could go wrong and one of them was that I would need another washout if it didn’t stop leaking. Don’t even think about it !!!!
Had a visit from the social worker. After asking various questions, it turned out that there wasn’t anything she could do for me. Figures…
While I was waiting to go down to the woodshed, Alicia tried me walking on crutches again. Worked a fair way (well it was for me anyway) and wasn’t wobbly.
One of the nurses told me that my op would be due between 2pm – 2.30pm so I put on my theatre (or should that be woodshed) gown.
One of the woodshed nurses came to see me. She was doing a follow-up on patients who had recently been to the woodshed. She asked if I had any concerns about this visit. I mentioned about throwing up and she said she would have a word with the anaesthetist and that she would see me there sometime around 4pm. So much for 2pm….
The trolley came at 3pm so that wasn’t too bad. John, the young auxiliary nurse, was supposed to escort me down but Louise said she’d do it. I didn’t think she trusted him as he wasn’t the brightest of sparks.
While we waited for one of the woodshed nurses to book me in, we chatted about everything and anything. Bra sizes was one such topic… Louise commented that every time we had a chat it was never about medical things.
A young woodshed assistant ‘booked’ me in. He reminded me very much of ‘Owen’ from Torchwood. Once Louise had gone we had a good chat. The anaesthetists assistant from my last visit came over and said hello.
I was enjoying chatting to ‘Owen’ when another assistance came over and said he could go for his break as she would say with me. I tried talking to her but all I got was moans – she didn’t like her work, she didn’t like her husband. I was so glad when she had to leave to answer the phone.
The anaesthetist came over and introduced himself. Sadly it wasn’t the same one as last time. He told me that Kermit wouldn’t be doing the operation as he was still busy in theatre with another patient. I would be operated on by one underlings. I didn’t really like the anaesthetists manor. He wasn’t a very pleasant person. I explained about my throwing up to which he replied “I better put an apron on so you don’t vomit on my clothes”. Charming….
I started to wake up from the operation as I was being wheeled into the recovery room and was wide awake when I got there. My hip was throbbing and as I wasn’t connected to the morphine drip (they only did that for major operations) all they could give me was paracetamols.
‘Owen’ came over to say hello and asked if I was ok. The nurse who came to see me that afternoon asked if the anaesthetist had done anything for my sickness. I explained that he wasn’t that bothered. She was not amused.
I was back on the ward just before 6pm. Kairen, the South African staff nurse, had just got me settled when John arrived. He was most impressed that I was sitting up in bed waiting for him to come.
The nurses had kept a salad from the dinner trolley for me as they knew I’d be hungry when I got back, so Kairen brought it in for me.
As I was hooked up to a drip (I think it was something to re-hydrate me), John had to cut up my salad. He asked what the meat was in the salad. I wasn’t sure. It looked like no meat I’d ever seen before….
Tuesday, 16 February 2010
Day 28 – D Day
Tuesday 6th October 2009
Today was D Day for the woodshed. I had decided to call theatre ‘the woodshed’ as it seemed less clinical.
Somehow I had developed a habit of waking up between 1.30am - 2am and 4am wanting a bedpan. Marie, one of the auxiliary nightshift nurses, picked up on it straight away so whenever I buzzed during those times she came into my room already with a pan.
Sister Charlton came into my room to take away my wash bowl and asked if I’d seen the handsome young pharmacist who was working on the ward for a couple of days.
I replied that I’d seen him sitting on at the computer on the nurses station but had only seen the back of him.
“You’ve got to see him”, she said, “he’s gorgeous”.
Tracey, one of the staff nurses, overheard our conversation and came into my room.
“Where’ve you been”, she said, “he’s lovely”.
The young pharmacist was sitting at the computer so would have heard everything.
“Come here”, Tracey asked him.
He came into my room.
“Marie hasn’t seen how good looking you are”, said Sister Charlton.
He smiled and said hello. I didn’t want to upset him or the nurses but he wasn’t my type…
Sister Charlton came back a little later to take some blood. As usually it took her a couple of goes to find a vein.
“They love to hide, don’t they”, she said.
“I don’t do it on purpose”, I replied.
She though it was probably because I had been poked and prodded so many times that subconsciously my brain was telling my veins to hide.
I asked when Kermit was due on the ward. She replied he had been just before breakfast but had to dash to attend a meeting so would come back to see me later that afternoon. No rush I thought….
Lisa, one of the staff nurses, came to take me into the dressing room.
“We’ve been told that Mr Green is on his way to see you”, she said.
I asked if she could remove the dressing before he came as I didn’t want to appear a wimp by shouting ‘ow’ everything she pulled at the dressing. She thought that was a good idea.
Kermit had a good prod and poke at my wound and said what I had been expecting. A trip to the woodshed for a washout tomorrow. He was going to try and fit me in last as he had two big ops before me. Knowing my luck I would be ‘nil by mouth’ all day then find the op would be cancelled. I would be allowed breakfast at 6am, then no more food after that. I could have water up to 10am then again nothing after that.
I knew it was selfish but why couldn’t they fit me in first seeing as it wasn’t going to take very long.
Shortly after Kermit left, the Russian doctor (I still didn’t know his name) came and asked what Kermit had said. He saw my tiger cub cross stitch and asked how I was getting on with it. He was really sweet.
Doctor Richard, who I saw when I was first admitted on to ward 44, popped in to have a quick chat tomorrow’s trip to the woodshed. Apparently I was on last because of my infection. That made me feel like I was a leper… The op would take between ½ hour and 45 minutes. I explained that I was worried about the anaesthetic. He replied that he thought the anaesthetist would be the same as last time, so I was happy with that as he knew about me throwing up.
Just after lunch I was really tired. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Young Natalie, the student nurse, came to do my ops but said she would do them later and told me to get some sleep as I looked really tired. Thanks Natalie !!!!
The dietitian called into see me while my mam was there and she asked me how I was managing with the food. I reiterated that I didn’t like ‘dinners’ and as that was all they seemed to be serving, there wasn’t anything else I could eat. She said she would go away and have a think as to what to give me. Edible food came to mind….
The two Mary’s from side rooms 1 and 3 called in for a quick chat. They’re going to pray for me regarding the trip to the woodshed tomorrow.
Not sure if it’s the antibiotics, the iron tablets I’m taking or a combination of them both, but my number two’s smell like turnips !!!!
Today was D Day for the woodshed. I had decided to call theatre ‘the woodshed’ as it seemed less clinical.
Somehow I had developed a habit of waking up between 1.30am - 2am and 4am wanting a bedpan. Marie, one of the auxiliary nightshift nurses, picked up on it straight away so whenever I buzzed during those times she came into my room already with a pan.
Sister Charlton came into my room to take away my wash bowl and asked if I’d seen the handsome young pharmacist who was working on the ward for a couple of days.
I replied that I’d seen him sitting on at the computer on the nurses station but had only seen the back of him.
“You’ve got to see him”, she said, “he’s gorgeous”.
Tracey, one of the staff nurses, overheard our conversation and came into my room.
“Where’ve you been”, she said, “he’s lovely”.
The young pharmacist was sitting at the computer so would have heard everything.
“Come here”, Tracey asked him.
He came into my room.
“Marie hasn’t seen how good looking you are”, said Sister Charlton.
He smiled and said hello. I didn’t want to upset him or the nurses but he wasn’t my type…
Sister Charlton came back a little later to take some blood. As usually it took her a couple of goes to find a vein.
“They love to hide, don’t they”, she said.
“I don’t do it on purpose”, I replied.
She though it was probably because I had been poked and prodded so many times that subconsciously my brain was telling my veins to hide.
I asked when Kermit was due on the ward. She replied he had been just before breakfast but had to dash to attend a meeting so would come back to see me later that afternoon. No rush I thought….
Lisa, one of the staff nurses, came to take me into the dressing room.
“We’ve been told that Mr Green is on his way to see you”, she said.
I asked if she could remove the dressing before he came as I didn’t want to appear a wimp by shouting ‘ow’ everything she pulled at the dressing. She thought that was a good idea.
Kermit had a good prod and poke at my wound and said what I had been expecting. A trip to the woodshed for a washout tomorrow. He was going to try and fit me in last as he had two big ops before me. Knowing my luck I would be ‘nil by mouth’ all day then find the op would be cancelled. I would be allowed breakfast at 6am, then no more food after that. I could have water up to 10am then again nothing after that.
I knew it was selfish but why couldn’t they fit me in first seeing as it wasn’t going to take very long.
Shortly after Kermit left, the Russian doctor (I still didn’t know his name) came and asked what Kermit had said. He saw my tiger cub cross stitch and asked how I was getting on with it. He was really sweet.
Doctor Richard, who I saw when I was first admitted on to ward 44, popped in to have a quick chat tomorrow’s trip to the woodshed. Apparently I was on last because of my infection. That made me feel like I was a leper… The op would take between ½ hour and 45 minutes. I explained that I was worried about the anaesthetic. He replied that he thought the anaesthetist would be the same as last time, so I was happy with that as he knew about me throwing up.
Just after lunch I was really tired. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Young Natalie, the student nurse, came to do my ops but said she would do them later and told me to get some sleep as I looked really tired. Thanks Natalie !!!!
The dietitian called into see me while my mam was there and she asked me how I was managing with the food. I reiterated that I didn’t like ‘dinners’ and as that was all they seemed to be serving, there wasn’t anything else I could eat. She said she would go away and have a think as to what to give me. Edible food came to mind….
The two Mary’s from side rooms 1 and 3 called in for a quick chat. They’re going to pray for me regarding the trip to the woodshed tomorrow.
Not sure if it’s the antibiotics, the iron tablets I’m taking or a combination of them both, but my number two’s smell like turnips !!!!
Monday, 15 February 2010
Day 27 – From zimmer to crutches
Monday 5th October 2009
My wound hadn’t been leaking during the night but I wasn’t getting too excited. Knowing the luck I had had it would start leaking anytime soon…
Doctor Zara called in just before breakfast to say hello and also to say that she won’t see me for the next couple of days as she was working nightshift. At first I thought she was quite snooty and a bit aloof as she was very posh spoken and very forthright, but once I got to know her, I really liked her.
I was getting a bit sick of bran flakes for breakfast. John had been bringing in some sultanas and raisins so I could liven them up, but they were still boring. I tried a bacon sandwich once but it was awful. You wouldn’t think it was possible to ruin a bacon sandwich, but the hospital catering department had found a way.
Louise, one of the young auxiliary nurses told me that one of the male patients really enjoys the cooked breakfasts. He had a huge plate every morning. Urgh !!!!
I guessed this would be D-Day for my wound as Kermit would be doing his rounds shortly. I had prayed to everyone I could think of but no-one seemed to be listening.
The actual operation didn’t bother me, it was the anaesthetic. I got away without vomiting the last time, knowing me though, I won’t be that luck the next time. Plus it would mean another couple of days stuck in hospital.
Kermit arrived just after breakfast and said he would have a look at the wound tomorrow then make his decision. I had resigned myself that no-one was listening to my plea’s so it would be another trip to theatre.
My wound decided to leaking big time !!! I stood up to stretch my legs, having been sat in the chair for a while, and blood came gushing out. It was all down my dressing gown, my nightshirt, my legs, the floor. It was everywhere. Kairen, the South African staff nurse, drew the short straw and came to sort me out.
She said that the swab which Natalie had taken the other day had come back negative for infection. Kermit wasn’t too concerned about infection as the antibiotic beads inside my hip cavity would kill it off anyway.
Andrew, the microbiologist, called shortly before lunch to see how I was getting on. I told him my wee was now turning orange and he was pleased with that as it meant the antibiotics were working. He wanted to arrange another blood test to see if the infection was slowing disappearing.
Gemma, the occupational therapist, came to do an assessment on me. As we don’t have a downstairs loo, they were going to have to fit a commode in the dining room. Lovely !!!! As there was no-one at home during the day it would have to be fitted the day I leave hospital. That meant I couldn’t be discharged on a weekend and also I wouldn’t be able to go to the loo until it was fitted. I would have to sit crossed legged….
Gemma was going to arrange a wheelchair for me. However they were out of stock so were waiting on a new supply to arrive. How can a hospital run out of wheelchairs !!!!!
She was also going to arrange an additional handrails for the two lots of stairs we have at home. I had been having problems walking up the stairs anyway because of my knee, so that would be really helpful. As I wouldn’t be very mobile when I got home, she thought it would be best to refer me to a social worker who would be able to arrange any help I would need around the house.
Alicia, the physio, asked if I would like to try walking using elbow crutches today. I said I’d love to so would be back that afternoon with a pair.
Had my trip down to the occupational therapy ‘house’. When I had my hip replaced I had to complete various tasks around their ‘house’; getting into/out of the bath, sitting on the loo, getting into/out of bed and making a cup of tea, before I was allowed home. This time it was to see if there were any equipment they could get to help me when I eventually went home. As well as the commode they would also be giving me a tall perching chair for the kitchen.
As soon as I got back onto the ward I buzzed for a nurse as my wound was leaking blood down my leg. Natalie changed my dressing and I decided it wasn’t worth putting on another skirt as it was only going to get bloody again.
A little later I was walking back from the loo when I heard, “Marie. You little hussy ! You’re flashing again”.
It was Sister Charlton. I explained that I couldn’t put on my dressing gown as it was covered in blood and that everything I put on a skirt it kept getting blood on it from my wound.
“Here”, she said, going into the linen cupboard, “wear this”.
It was a theatre dressing gown.
“There”, she said, as she helped put the gown on me, “much better….”.
Had a walk with the elbow crutches this afternoon. I was quite wobbly at first but soon got the hang of it and managed to walk several feet. I knew it was going to be a slow progress but I was determent to leave the hospital on crutches.
As my side room was right next to the nurses station I could hear everything that was going on, including telephone calls. I overheard a conversation between Sister Charlton, and I think the social worker, regarding me.
“Her husband works full time so he can see to night time but not during the day…. It looks like she’ll be going back to theatre for a washout. We’ll know tomorrow….”
Sister then started to get annoyed, “He works full time… How should I know what time he goes to work….”
While waiting for the loo to become available I started chatting to the ladies who were in side rooms 1 and 3. They were both called Mary. Mary in side room 1 was the lady who kept calling her friends on her mobile. She told me she’d had a hip replacement. I already knew as I had heard her telling everyone…. She was a nice lady but very outspoken . Mary in side room 3 was lovely. She had a knee replacement nine weeks ago but fell and got cellulitis in her leg.
My dinner was chicken and chips. The chips were ok, if a little cold. The chicken was small, round and very flat, coated in something which certainly didn’t seem like breadcrumbs. It was like no chicken I’d ever tasted….
My wound hadn’t been leaking during the night but I wasn’t getting too excited. Knowing the luck I had had it would start leaking anytime soon…
Doctor Zara called in just before breakfast to say hello and also to say that she won’t see me for the next couple of days as she was working nightshift. At first I thought she was quite snooty and a bit aloof as she was very posh spoken and very forthright, but once I got to know her, I really liked her.
I was getting a bit sick of bran flakes for breakfast. John had been bringing in some sultanas and raisins so I could liven them up, but they were still boring. I tried a bacon sandwich once but it was awful. You wouldn’t think it was possible to ruin a bacon sandwich, but the hospital catering department had found a way.
Louise, one of the young auxiliary nurses told me that one of the male patients really enjoys the cooked breakfasts. He had a huge plate every morning. Urgh !!!!
I guessed this would be D-Day for my wound as Kermit would be doing his rounds shortly. I had prayed to everyone I could think of but no-one seemed to be listening.
The actual operation didn’t bother me, it was the anaesthetic. I got away without vomiting the last time, knowing me though, I won’t be that luck the next time. Plus it would mean another couple of days stuck in hospital.
Kermit arrived just after breakfast and said he would have a look at the wound tomorrow then make his decision. I had resigned myself that no-one was listening to my plea’s so it would be another trip to theatre.
My wound decided to leaking big time !!! I stood up to stretch my legs, having been sat in the chair for a while, and blood came gushing out. It was all down my dressing gown, my nightshirt, my legs, the floor. It was everywhere. Kairen, the South African staff nurse, drew the short straw and came to sort me out.
She said that the swab which Natalie had taken the other day had come back negative for infection. Kermit wasn’t too concerned about infection as the antibiotic beads inside my hip cavity would kill it off anyway.
Andrew, the microbiologist, called shortly before lunch to see how I was getting on. I told him my wee was now turning orange and he was pleased with that as it meant the antibiotics were working. He wanted to arrange another blood test to see if the infection was slowing disappearing.
Gemma, the occupational therapist, came to do an assessment on me. As we don’t have a downstairs loo, they were going to have to fit a commode in the dining room. Lovely !!!! As there was no-one at home during the day it would have to be fitted the day I leave hospital. That meant I couldn’t be discharged on a weekend and also I wouldn’t be able to go to the loo until it was fitted. I would have to sit crossed legged….
Gemma was going to arrange a wheelchair for me. However they were out of stock so were waiting on a new supply to arrive. How can a hospital run out of wheelchairs !!!!!
She was also going to arrange an additional handrails for the two lots of stairs we have at home. I had been having problems walking up the stairs anyway because of my knee, so that would be really helpful. As I wouldn’t be very mobile when I got home, she thought it would be best to refer me to a social worker who would be able to arrange any help I would need around the house.
Alicia, the physio, asked if I would like to try walking using elbow crutches today. I said I’d love to so would be back that afternoon with a pair.
Had my trip down to the occupational therapy ‘house’. When I had my hip replaced I had to complete various tasks around their ‘house’; getting into/out of the bath, sitting on the loo, getting into/out of bed and making a cup of tea, before I was allowed home. This time it was to see if there were any equipment they could get to help me when I eventually went home. As well as the commode they would also be giving me a tall perching chair for the kitchen.
As soon as I got back onto the ward I buzzed for a nurse as my wound was leaking blood down my leg. Natalie changed my dressing and I decided it wasn’t worth putting on another skirt as it was only going to get bloody again.
A little later I was walking back from the loo when I heard, “Marie. You little hussy ! You’re flashing again”.
It was Sister Charlton. I explained that I couldn’t put on my dressing gown as it was covered in blood and that everything I put on a skirt it kept getting blood on it from my wound.
“Here”, she said, going into the linen cupboard, “wear this”.
It was a theatre dressing gown.
“There”, she said, as she helped put the gown on me, “much better….”.
Had a walk with the elbow crutches this afternoon. I was quite wobbly at first but soon got the hang of it and managed to walk several feet. I knew it was going to be a slow progress but I was determent to leave the hospital on crutches.
As my side room was right next to the nurses station I could hear everything that was going on, including telephone calls. I overheard a conversation between Sister Charlton, and I think the social worker, regarding me.
“Her husband works full time so he can see to night time but not during the day…. It looks like she’ll be going back to theatre for a washout. We’ll know tomorrow….”
Sister then started to get annoyed, “He works full time… How should I know what time he goes to work….”
While waiting for the loo to become available I started chatting to the ladies who were in side rooms 1 and 3. They were both called Mary. Mary in side room 1 was the lady who kept calling her friends on her mobile. She told me she’d had a hip replacement. I already knew as I had heard her telling everyone…. She was a nice lady but very outspoken . Mary in side room 3 was lovely. She had a knee replacement nine weeks ago but fell and got cellulitis in her leg.
My dinner was chicken and chips. The chips were ok, if a little cold. The chicken was small, round and very flat, coated in something which certainly didn’t seem like breadcrumbs. It was like no chicken I’d ever tasted….
Sunday, 14 February 2010
Day 26 – Nappy rash
Sunday 4th October 2009
I was gutted !!!!!!! My wound was leaking, big time… It hadn’t been oozing that much yesterday so I was hoping it had stopped.
Had a slight wee wee disaster early in the morning. I always ask for a bed pan rather than getting up to go to the loo during the night. I was usually pretty stiff with lying in bed, and the nurses don’t mind. They give each of the men a bottle on a night time to save them getting of bed, so it was just the same. The back of my nightshirt got caught in the pan and I didn’t notice until I lay back down and felt something wet. Had to have both my shirt and the bed changed. The nurse thought it was so funny. Thankfully my shirt was red as my wee was turning red because of the antibiotics so if the stain didn’t come out, it wouldn’t matter…
My shoulder, elbow and arm were really aching, and had been all night, so got up just before 5am. I was not sure if it was due to the way I was lying in bed or the way I was walking using the zimmer frame, but something was setting it off.
I found that if I put two pillows on the end of my table it was comfortable enough for me to get some sleep. I had been doing that most morning while waiting for breakfast as they get you up really early.
My side room was next to one of the men’s bays and yesterday a man arrived straight from theatre. Ever since he came onto the ward, he was a pain in the bum. He didn’t talk, he shouted, and he never shut up. He was still talking, or rather shouting, at 2am. One of the nightshift nurses was going to have a word with him tonight as he could be heard right at the end of the ward.
When Christa changed my dressing she remarked that the wound didn’t look very good.
“You’ve got sort of a nappy rash on the back of thigh”, she said, “it’s probably because you’re sensitive there so the dressings have aggravated it”.
My wound wasn’t hurting, though an old scar tissue was a bit tender.
Instead of putting the usual dressings on the wound, she placed an absorbent pad over it then wrapped it in a crape bandage.
“Hopefully that will give your skin a rest”, she said.
My burn, which always gave them quite a bit of amusement when I explained what had happened, was healing ok.
Christa also removed the dressing from my neck where the central line had been.
“I’m not going to put another one on”, she said, “as it looks like the skin is a bit aggravated there as well”.
I had two puncture wounds on my neck so it looked like I had been bitten by a vampire….
It was looking more and more likely that I would have to go to theatre again to have my wound washed out, which was very disheartening. The Russian doctor (couldn’t remember his name) came and told me. Even though it would only take less than 20 minutes I would need a general anaesthetic. I was feeling quite low. I had kept everything crossed and had even asked ‘Him upstairs’ and my Guardian Angel for help but no one was listening.
Had two lunches today. I was given Sunday lunch, which was horrible, so left most of it. Louise, one of the auxiliary nurses, came to write on my food chart how much I had eaten that lunchtime. I explained that I didn’t like ‘dinners’.
“Would you like a salad”, she asked, “there’s one in fridge if you want it”.
“Yes please”, I said.
Christa came into room to give me my afternoon tablets and noticed the two plates on my table. She looked at my food chart.
“I think you can come off”, she said, “as you know what you like and dislike”.
There wasn’t anything on the evening trolley for me so one of the auxiliary nurses went down to the staff canteen and came back with a baked potatoes and grated cheese and coleslaw. It was lovely. So much better than the ones they do for the patients.
John arrived that afternoon with a tape measure so I was able to see exactly how large my legs were. My left knee was 19 inches and my thigh was 23½ inches. The right knee was 15 inches and the thigh was 20 inches. I was told it could take about six months for them to go back to normal size. I was glad I had made some skirts as there was no way I could fit into my trousers.
I was gutted !!!!!!! My wound was leaking, big time… It hadn’t been oozing that much yesterday so I was hoping it had stopped.
Had a slight wee wee disaster early in the morning. I always ask for a bed pan rather than getting up to go to the loo during the night. I was usually pretty stiff with lying in bed, and the nurses don’t mind. They give each of the men a bottle on a night time to save them getting of bed, so it was just the same. The back of my nightshirt got caught in the pan and I didn’t notice until I lay back down and felt something wet. Had to have both my shirt and the bed changed. The nurse thought it was so funny. Thankfully my shirt was red as my wee was turning red because of the antibiotics so if the stain didn’t come out, it wouldn’t matter…
My shoulder, elbow and arm were really aching, and had been all night, so got up just before 5am. I was not sure if it was due to the way I was lying in bed or the way I was walking using the zimmer frame, but something was setting it off.
I found that if I put two pillows on the end of my table it was comfortable enough for me to get some sleep. I had been doing that most morning while waiting for breakfast as they get you up really early.
My side room was next to one of the men’s bays and yesterday a man arrived straight from theatre. Ever since he came onto the ward, he was a pain in the bum. He didn’t talk, he shouted, and he never shut up. He was still talking, or rather shouting, at 2am. One of the nightshift nurses was going to have a word with him tonight as he could be heard right at the end of the ward.
When Christa changed my dressing she remarked that the wound didn’t look very good.
“You’ve got sort of a nappy rash on the back of thigh”, she said, “it’s probably because you’re sensitive there so the dressings have aggravated it”.
My wound wasn’t hurting, though an old scar tissue was a bit tender.
Instead of putting the usual dressings on the wound, she placed an absorbent pad over it then wrapped it in a crape bandage.
“Hopefully that will give your skin a rest”, she said.
My burn, which always gave them quite a bit of amusement when I explained what had happened, was healing ok.
Christa also removed the dressing from my neck where the central line had been.
“I’m not going to put another one on”, she said, “as it looks like the skin is a bit aggravated there as well”.
I had two puncture wounds on my neck so it looked like I had been bitten by a vampire….
It was looking more and more likely that I would have to go to theatre again to have my wound washed out, which was very disheartening. The Russian doctor (couldn’t remember his name) came and told me. Even though it would only take less than 20 minutes I would need a general anaesthetic. I was feeling quite low. I had kept everything crossed and had even asked ‘Him upstairs’ and my Guardian Angel for help but no one was listening.
Had two lunches today. I was given Sunday lunch, which was horrible, so left most of it. Louise, one of the auxiliary nurses, came to write on my food chart how much I had eaten that lunchtime. I explained that I didn’t like ‘dinners’.
“Would you like a salad”, she asked, “there’s one in fridge if you want it”.
“Yes please”, I said.
Christa came into room to give me my afternoon tablets and noticed the two plates on my table. She looked at my food chart.
“I think you can come off”, she said, “as you know what you like and dislike”.
There wasn’t anything on the evening trolley for me so one of the auxiliary nurses went down to the staff canteen and came back with a baked potatoes and grated cheese and coleslaw. It was lovely. So much better than the ones they do for the patients.
John arrived that afternoon with a tape measure so I was able to see exactly how large my legs were. My left knee was 19 inches and my thigh was 23½ inches. The right knee was 15 inches and the thigh was 20 inches. I was told it could take about six months for them to go back to normal size. I was glad I had made some skirts as there was no way I could fit into my trousers.
Saturday, 13 February 2010
Day 25 – Could my prayers have been answered
Saturday 3rd October 2009
I woke to find that my wound hadn’t been leaking which was brilliant news. Perhaps my pleading to ‘Him upstairs’ and my Guardian Angel worked last night.
John, the young auxiliary nurse, came to change the sheets on my bed. Following his blushing yesterday I got the impression that he was quite timid among women. I started to chat with him, hoping he would over come his shyness. After all it was a mixed ward so he did have to come into contact with women. We chatted about what sport he liked and he asked to have a look at my cross stitch.
He then decided to open up and tell me about himself. He was just nineteen; this was his very first job and he’d only started two weeks ago; he didn’t do well at school as he was lazy and found studying boring. He then volunteered to tell me about his love life - he had just split up with his girlfriend, which he was upset about it, and wanted her back. I just wanted to put my arms around him and give him a cuddle….
I managed to walk back from the loo by myself that afternoon. A lady in one of the women’s bay’s had taken a heart attack and as all the nurses were busy dealing with her, I thought it was a little selfish to get one of them to escort me back to my room. It was a little scary but I did it.
When I was given my medication (they had finally agreed to let me start taking oral antibiotics) I realised that I hadn’t been given one of the high calorie drinks. Was I to mention it or say nothing. I knew they were for my own good, but there really was a limit to what I could take, so decided not to say anything…
I also didn’t mention that I hadn’t had my anti-DVT injection. They really did hurt and my stomach was quite black and blue as each one left a bruise.
Thankfully my arms and hands were now slowing not resembling pin cushions as most of the bruising and swelling were going down. I used to have no problem with my veins – I used to give blood and never had any bother there – however, now, as soon as a needle comes near me they hide.
Can’t say I blame them !!!!
I woke to find that my wound hadn’t been leaking which was brilliant news. Perhaps my pleading to ‘Him upstairs’ and my Guardian Angel worked last night.
John, the young auxiliary nurse, came to change the sheets on my bed. Following his blushing yesterday I got the impression that he was quite timid among women. I started to chat with him, hoping he would over come his shyness. After all it was a mixed ward so he did have to come into contact with women. We chatted about what sport he liked and he asked to have a look at my cross stitch.
He then decided to open up and tell me about himself. He was just nineteen; this was his very first job and he’d only started two weeks ago; he didn’t do well at school as he was lazy and found studying boring. He then volunteered to tell me about his love life - he had just split up with his girlfriend, which he was upset about it, and wanted her back. I just wanted to put my arms around him and give him a cuddle….
I managed to walk back from the loo by myself that afternoon. A lady in one of the women’s bay’s had taken a heart attack and as all the nurses were busy dealing with her, I thought it was a little selfish to get one of them to escort me back to my room. It was a little scary but I did it.
When I was given my medication (they had finally agreed to let me start taking oral antibiotics) I realised that I hadn’t been given one of the high calorie drinks. Was I to mention it or say nothing. I knew they were for my own good, but there really was a limit to what I could take, so decided not to say anything…
I also didn’t mention that I hadn’t had my anti-DVT injection. They really did hurt and my stomach was quite black and blue as each one left a bruise.
Thankfully my arms and hands were now slowing not resembling pin cushions as most of the bruising and swelling were going down. I used to have no problem with my veins – I used to give blood and never had any bother there – however, now, as soon as a needle comes near me they hide.
Can’t say I blame them !!!!
Friday, 12 February 2010
Day 24 – Oozing again
Friday 2nd October 2009
My first night since my operation without my line in and it was wonderful. I didn’t sleep right through the night but I had one of the best nights sleep since I’d been in hospital.
Noticed though that my elbow was hurting again. I wondered if it was the way I had been lying in bed or was it because I was walking more and putting pressure on my elbow. I made a mental note to mention this to the physios.
Doctor Zara and the young Russian registrar doctor were sitting at the computer on the nurses station outside my room. Zara knocked on the window which looks into my room.
“What are you doing”, she asked, noticing I was doing some needlework.
“Come and have a look”, I replied.
“That’s beautiful”, she said, admiring the tiger cub I was cross stitching (I had abandoned the needlework cushion as I was getting bored with it. I wanted to do something what stimulated me).
The Russian doctor who had been peering through the window, came into my room.
“It looks just like a painting”, he said.
He then explained what the elderly ladies in Russia did in the way of needlework. It seemed to be similar to large tapestries.
Young Natalie, the second year student, promised she would take me for a shower this morning, and good to her word, she did. I couldn’t describe the joy of having clean hair. It wasn’t very pleasant having not been washed for nine days – yuck !!!
When I got back from the shower I noticed the wound was bleeding quite a bit, which wasn’t a good sign. Natalie patched up the dressing and said she would change it as soon as the dressing room was free.
Half an hour later I had a clean dressing. Natalie had a good look at my wound and although it was leaking blood, the actual wound didn’t look infected. However just to be on the safe side she took a swab.
Norma came into tell me that she had made a referral for me to see the Occupational Therapist. It should have been done several days ago so she wasn’t amused. Neither was I as each delay was stopping me going home.
In the side room next to mine I could hear a woman talking on her mobile phone. Since 7.20am she had been phoning her friends telling them how her hip replacement operation had gone; that the doctors and nurses were so pleased with her; the physios were so impressed with how she was walking – they had never had a patient get up and move around that quick. She ended each call, which took about fifteen minutes, with ‘I’ll have to go as I don’t have much money on my moble’…. She even told a friends husband, who didn’t know who she was, the whole tale.
When I was doing some exercise with the physios they mentioned that the lady in the side room had fainted that morning.
“There was a huge commotion”, said Lisa, “did you not hear it”.
“No”, I replied, “I must have been in the shower”.
No doubt she would be phoning all her friends and telling them what had happened – and she did…
Lunch today was baked potato and cheese. Although the potato was slightly on the hard side, I ate it all. That was the first clean plate I’d had in hospital.
Shortly before afternoon visiting time John, the young male Auxiliary nurse, walked with me to the loo.
“Marie !”, shouted Natalie, “you’re flashing”.
“I’m what”, I replied.
“As you’re walking I can see your knickers”.
John, bless him, started to blush.
“Pull her t-shirt down”, she ordered John.
The look of horror on his face was priceless.
“Don’t worry”, I said to him, “I’ll do it”.
He waited outside the loo for me then walked behind me as I made my way back to my room.
Kermit and Sister Clarke were standing at the nurses station waiting for me to come back from the loo.
“You’re walking really well”, he said, “I’m really impressed”.
I explained about my wound bleeding that morning. He told me not to worry too much about it as this some times happens.
“We’ll give it another few days”, he said, “hopefully by then the oozing will have stopped”.
I pleaded with ‘Him upstairs’ and my Guardian Angel to please make it stop…
My first night since my operation without my line in and it was wonderful. I didn’t sleep right through the night but I had one of the best nights sleep since I’d been in hospital.
Noticed though that my elbow was hurting again. I wondered if it was the way I had been lying in bed or was it because I was walking more and putting pressure on my elbow. I made a mental note to mention this to the physios.
Doctor Zara and the young Russian registrar doctor were sitting at the computer on the nurses station outside my room. Zara knocked on the window which looks into my room.
“What are you doing”, she asked, noticing I was doing some needlework.
“Come and have a look”, I replied.
“That’s beautiful”, she said, admiring the tiger cub I was cross stitching (I had abandoned the needlework cushion as I was getting bored with it. I wanted to do something what stimulated me).
The Russian doctor who had been peering through the window, came into my room.
“It looks just like a painting”, he said.
He then explained what the elderly ladies in Russia did in the way of needlework. It seemed to be similar to large tapestries.
Young Natalie, the second year student, promised she would take me for a shower this morning, and good to her word, she did. I couldn’t describe the joy of having clean hair. It wasn’t very pleasant having not been washed for nine days – yuck !!!
When I got back from the shower I noticed the wound was bleeding quite a bit, which wasn’t a good sign. Natalie patched up the dressing and said she would change it as soon as the dressing room was free.
Half an hour later I had a clean dressing. Natalie had a good look at my wound and although it was leaking blood, the actual wound didn’t look infected. However just to be on the safe side she took a swab.
Norma came into tell me that she had made a referral for me to see the Occupational Therapist. It should have been done several days ago so she wasn’t amused. Neither was I as each delay was stopping me going home.
In the side room next to mine I could hear a woman talking on her mobile phone. Since 7.20am she had been phoning her friends telling them how her hip replacement operation had gone; that the doctors and nurses were so pleased with her; the physios were so impressed with how she was walking – they had never had a patient get up and move around that quick. She ended each call, which took about fifteen minutes, with ‘I’ll have to go as I don’t have much money on my moble’…. She even told a friends husband, who didn’t know who she was, the whole tale.
When I was doing some exercise with the physios they mentioned that the lady in the side room had fainted that morning.
“There was a huge commotion”, said Lisa, “did you not hear it”.
“No”, I replied, “I must have been in the shower”.
No doubt she would be phoning all her friends and telling them what had happened – and she did…
Lunch today was baked potato and cheese. Although the potato was slightly on the hard side, I ate it all. That was the first clean plate I’d had in hospital.
Shortly before afternoon visiting time John, the young male Auxiliary nurse, walked with me to the loo.
“Marie !”, shouted Natalie, “you’re flashing”.
“I’m what”, I replied.
“As you’re walking I can see your knickers”.
John, bless him, started to blush.
“Pull her t-shirt down”, she ordered John.
The look of horror on his face was priceless.
“Don’t worry”, I said to him, “I’ll do it”.
He waited outside the loo for me then walked behind me as I made my way back to my room.
Kermit and Sister Clarke were standing at the nurses station waiting for me to come back from the loo.
“You’re walking really well”, he said, “I’m really impressed”.
I explained about my wound bleeding that morning. He told me not to worry too much about it as this some times happens.
“We’ll give it another few days”, he said, “hopefully by then the oozing will have stopped”.
I pleaded with ‘Him upstairs’ and my Guardian Angel to please make it stop…
Thursday, 11 February 2010
Day 23 – A bit of good news
Thursday 1st October 2009
Slept a bit better last night – from 2am (when I was woken up to have my obs taken –why !!!) to 6am, which is pretty good for me.
Couldn’t believe it was the 1st October already. I had been here for three weeks and it seemed like a life time. I really hoped they would get their act together today and sort out both my central line and my antibiotics. However from past form, I doubted it….
I worked out that it had taken overall two days to get the various things sorted. That was two full days completed wasted. No wonder they are always complaining about bed blocking. What really annoyed me was the lack of communication. If only they would talk to one another, instead of having to go through channels. Why couldn’t someone simply make a decision. The NHS wouldn’t be in such a mess if it worked as efficiently as the private sector. That goes too for all government departments.
Doctor Zara called into see me this morning.
“When Mr Green came yesterday did he know about what to my central line”, I asked.
“No”, she replied.
“I thought so”, I said.
“We finally bucked up courage to tell late yesterday morning”.
“What did he say”, I ask.
“He went very quite for about two minutes then said ‘get it out NOW !!!!’”.
Zara told me that it would be coming out sometime today. Yippee. I could finally have my hair washed, or even better a shower.
I asked Zara about the oozing from my hip and mentioned that it was getting a little sore. She had a look and said it looked ok. The soreness was from a previous scar expanding because my hips were extremely swollen. I told her what Kermit had said about flushing out the wound.
“It’s nothing to worry about”, she reassured me, “the fluid is clear, which is a good sign. Each surgeon does things differently. Some wait and let it clear itself, others, like Mr Green, prefer to help it along by giving it a wash out”.
One of the staff nurses, came to take more blood from me. I warned her that I wasn’t very good at giving up blood.
“I’m one of the best”, she boasted, as she put the needle into my vein.
“I don’t understand”, she said, “there’s nothing coming out”.
“I did tell you”, I replied.
She tried again, this time using a different arm.
“Your vein has just disappeared”, she said, quite shocked.
“Yeah, it does that all the time”, I said.
A young male auxiliary nurse came into my room wanting to speak to the nurse.
“I’m busy. Find someone else”, she snapped, as she was trying to fill the syringe with blood.
“Just one more centimetre”, she pleaded with my vein, “next time someone else can do this as I’m refusing to take blood from you again”.
An assistant dietician called to see me later that morning wanting to discuss my eating, or rather the lack of it. I explained that I wasn’t a fussy eater, it was just that I didn’t like the food they served. She was going to allow me to have some of the food from the children’s menu and that for lunch I could have a baked potato with various fillings, instead of the fruit I was currently having. I was still to have those horrible high calorie drinks twice a day and she would allow my mam to being in some sandwiches for me, even though bringing food onto the ward was banned. I was told I had to eat lots of protein. If they served me edible meat, I would.
Zara and another doctor called in to say they were trying to sort out getting my line removed today (they had been saying that since yesterday….) and that they are now going to monitor the oozing from my hip. I really didn’t want to go back to theatre so hoped it would dry up soon.
The physios gave me a bit of good news. They are confident with my walking so they would have no objections in me going home. That’s one of the three that was stopping me from going home ticked off. If only the leaking would stop and they could stop arguing about my antibiotics. Then I would be homeward bound…
Sister Charlton had also given me another bit of good news. My central line could finally come out. Normally this would be done by two of the central line nurses, but as Sister Charlton had been trained, she was happy to do it. She explained everything in great detail what was going to happen. Young Natalie, the second year student nurse, asked if it was ok if she could watch. Both me and Sister were happy with that. She was a lovely girl and so eager to learn new things. Norma, one of the staff nurses, popped her head through the door and asked if she too could come and watch. I was one of Norma’s favourite patients so I think she wanted to keep an eye on me.
Sister was having difficulty in removing one of the sutures. The more stressed she got, the more she sang. It wasn’t painful (the removal of the sutures – not Sisters singing!!!), just uncomfortable as she kept tugging at the suture. I was to take a deep breath, she then pulled out the line and immediately pressed her thumb hard on my neck. It was like being throttled. She had to keep her thumb pressed hard on my neck for twenty minutes. By that time my blood should have clotted around the wound.
My mam, who had been waiting outside to see me, was allowed in, so she and Sister Charlton were having a good chat.
After twenty minutes, much to the relief of both me and Sister, who by this time had had a sore thumb, the bleeding had stopped so a dressing was put over the wound. My blood pressure was immediately taken and would be every four minutes. I had to remain flat on the bed for half an hour and only when they were happy with my blood pressure, would I be slowly allowed to sit up.
It was a lovely feeling not being ‘wired for sound’ and I was so looking forward to getting a decent night sleep, well, sleeping in a comfortable position, anyway…
Slept a bit better last night – from 2am (when I was woken up to have my obs taken –why !!!) to 6am, which is pretty good for me.
Couldn’t believe it was the 1st October already. I had been here for three weeks and it seemed like a life time. I really hoped they would get their act together today and sort out both my central line and my antibiotics. However from past form, I doubted it….
I worked out that it had taken overall two days to get the various things sorted. That was two full days completed wasted. No wonder they are always complaining about bed blocking. What really annoyed me was the lack of communication. If only they would talk to one another, instead of having to go through channels. Why couldn’t someone simply make a decision. The NHS wouldn’t be in such a mess if it worked as efficiently as the private sector. That goes too for all government departments.
Doctor Zara called into see me this morning.
“When Mr Green came yesterday did he know about what to my central line”, I asked.
“No”, she replied.
“I thought so”, I said.
“We finally bucked up courage to tell late yesterday morning”.
“What did he say”, I ask.
“He went very quite for about two minutes then said ‘get it out NOW !!!!’”.
Zara told me that it would be coming out sometime today. Yippee. I could finally have my hair washed, or even better a shower.
I asked Zara about the oozing from my hip and mentioned that it was getting a little sore. She had a look and said it looked ok. The soreness was from a previous scar expanding because my hips were extremely swollen. I told her what Kermit had said about flushing out the wound.
“It’s nothing to worry about”, she reassured me, “the fluid is clear, which is a good sign. Each surgeon does things differently. Some wait and let it clear itself, others, like Mr Green, prefer to help it along by giving it a wash out”.
One of the staff nurses, came to take more blood from me. I warned her that I wasn’t very good at giving up blood.
“I’m one of the best”, she boasted, as she put the needle into my vein.
“I don’t understand”, she said, “there’s nothing coming out”.
“I did tell you”, I replied.
She tried again, this time using a different arm.
“Your vein has just disappeared”, she said, quite shocked.
“Yeah, it does that all the time”, I said.
A young male auxiliary nurse came into my room wanting to speak to the nurse.
“I’m busy. Find someone else”, she snapped, as she was trying to fill the syringe with blood.
“Just one more centimetre”, she pleaded with my vein, “next time someone else can do this as I’m refusing to take blood from you again”.
An assistant dietician called to see me later that morning wanting to discuss my eating, or rather the lack of it. I explained that I wasn’t a fussy eater, it was just that I didn’t like the food they served. She was going to allow me to have some of the food from the children’s menu and that for lunch I could have a baked potato with various fillings, instead of the fruit I was currently having. I was still to have those horrible high calorie drinks twice a day and she would allow my mam to being in some sandwiches for me, even though bringing food onto the ward was banned. I was told I had to eat lots of protein. If they served me edible meat, I would.
Zara and another doctor called in to say they were trying to sort out getting my line removed today (they had been saying that since yesterday….) and that they are now going to monitor the oozing from my hip. I really didn’t want to go back to theatre so hoped it would dry up soon.
The physios gave me a bit of good news. They are confident with my walking so they would have no objections in me going home. That’s one of the three that was stopping me from going home ticked off. If only the leaking would stop and they could stop arguing about my antibiotics. Then I would be homeward bound…
Sister Charlton had also given me another bit of good news. My central line could finally come out. Normally this would be done by two of the central line nurses, but as Sister Charlton had been trained, she was happy to do it. She explained everything in great detail what was going to happen. Young Natalie, the second year student nurse, asked if it was ok if she could watch. Both me and Sister were happy with that. She was a lovely girl and so eager to learn new things. Norma, one of the staff nurses, popped her head through the door and asked if she too could come and watch. I was one of Norma’s favourite patients so I think she wanted to keep an eye on me.
Sister was having difficulty in removing one of the sutures. The more stressed she got, the more she sang. It wasn’t painful (the removal of the sutures – not Sisters singing!!!), just uncomfortable as she kept tugging at the suture. I was to take a deep breath, she then pulled out the line and immediately pressed her thumb hard on my neck. It was like being throttled. She had to keep her thumb pressed hard on my neck for twenty minutes. By that time my blood should have clotted around the wound.
My mam, who had been waiting outside to see me, was allowed in, so she and Sister Charlton were having a good chat.
After twenty minutes, much to the relief of both me and Sister, who by this time had had a sore thumb, the bleeding had stopped so a dressing was put over the wound. My blood pressure was immediately taken and would be every four minutes. I had to remain flat on the bed for half an hour and only when they were happy with my blood pressure, would I be slowly allowed to sit up.
It was a lovely feeling not being ‘wired for sound’ and I was so looking forward to getting a decent night sleep, well, sleeping in a comfortable position, anyway…
Wednesday, 10 February 2010
Day 22 – Unhappy was an understatement
Wednesday 30th September 2009
I was still in ward 44 as yet again ward 42 refused to take me. I wasn’t allowed to unpack my belongings as they were going to try again in the morning to see if they would take me.
Didn’t finish my final batch of antibiotics until 2am. My arm, shoulder and elbow were really aching as I had to lie in an awkward position because the antibiotic liquid wasn’t dripping in the chamber properly.
Doctor Zara came to see me just after 7.30am to check that I was ok after yesterdays excitement.
“Last night I told one of my doctor friends what happened and he said ‘it wasn’t one of Mr Green’s patients, was it”.
“What did you say”, I asked,
“I said yes and he replied “I don’t want to be in your shoes when you tell him”.
“Does he know”, I said.
She shook her head, “we’re trying to buck up the courage to tell him”.
“Good luck”, I wished her…
Kermit called just as I was having breakfast.
“Your line is due to be removed today”, he asked.
Before I had a chance to answer, Sister Clarke, who was accompanying him, replied it was, then quickly glossed over what had happened yesterday. He hadn’t heard her so asked how my wound was doing. He would give it another 7-10 days and if there wasn’t any change then I would have to have more surgery to ‘wash’ out the wound.
Another week in hospital !!!! I was gutted as I wanted to go home, and I certainly didn’t want another trip to theatre. I was lucky the last time as I didn’t throw up, but knowing my luck, I didn’t think it would be second time lucky...
Sister Charlton came to take away my washing bowl so I asked if I would be moving to ward 42, as I felt like a nomad with my things still in carrier bags. She replied that it was still the plan once I got my blood clotting sorted and my line out. I asked what was the matter with my blood.
“Before we can remove your central line, we have to make sure your blood will clot. At the moment yours isn’t so we want to run some more tests”.
About 10.10am a porter came to take me down to x-ray.
“What for”, I asked.
“Dunno”, he replied.
I looked down at my dressing. It was handing off. I tried to press it back on but it wasn’t sticking very well. I had already told Sister Charlton that it was coming away earlier this morning and was told it would be changed later.
The x-ray was for my hip. It was a little embarrassing having to lie on the x-ray table with a dressing hanging off.
Having been away from the ward for over an hour and a half I was desperate for the loo. When I finally got back to the ward and to the loo, most of my dressing fell off into the toilet bowl…. Instead of changing the dressing, all they did was patch it up. I was not impressed.
There was still no word when I would be getting my central line removed. Just before lunch Sister Charlton came to take more blood (took two attempts – as always….) and said the line would be out this afternoon.
Shortly afterward Andrew, the microbiologist, came and said that he wanted the line removed as soon as possible. The longer it remained the more chance it had of becoming infected, and as my system was riddled with infection, he didn’t want another one added to the list. He explained that I would be given two different types of oral antibiotics, starting today. One to be taken four times a day and the other twice a day.
“Do you wear contact lenses”, he asked.
“No”, I replied.
“Good”, he said, “as one of the side effects from the antibiotics is they turn your wee red... It also causes contact lens to turn red as well. We have to warn patients otherwise we might get sued”.
One of the staff nurses came with my afternoon painkillers and said she would be coming back with some IV antibiotics. I asked why as I was supposed to start taking oral today. She replied that there was still no word yet when my line was going to be removed so they may as well use it while it’s there.
“But the microbiologist said I was to start taking them orally”, I repeated.
She just shrugged her shoulders.
“When can I have my dressing changed as it’s hanging off”, I asked, showing her the dressing.
She just shrugged her shoulders again.
To say I was unhappy was an understatement. Surely these people communicate with one another, so why the blank look about my antibiotics. My dressing was soaking, so too was the mat I was sitting on. I wasn’t able to walk to the toilet as the dressing was hanging off. I couldn’t do any walking exercises as the physios wouldn’t let me walk because of my dressing. To hell with it, I thought. The next time the physios came I’m was going walking….
My central line was not coming out as apparently there was something wrong with my ‘count’. I was going to be given ‘something’ (didn’t know what, they didn’t tell me….) to help my blood clot. More blood was taken and it would be taken again tomorrow to see if the ‘count’ was normal again.
I was getting a little fed up. I had been in hospital for nearly three weeks and there were no signs of me making much progress. At this rate I would still be in another three weeks !!!!!!
There were two bits of good news late afternoon. I had been given a zimmer without wheels and was told I could walk short distances but only under supervision, and Amy, the third year student nurse, said she would change my dressing.
She said she would meet me in the dressing rooms so I had to make my own way there. It was quite a hike to the dressing room and I was not supervised while walking which I wasn’t pleased about. By the time I got there I was shattered !!
When John arrived that evening I told him what had been happening and it took all my strength not to burst into tears. I felt really depressed and that wasn’t like me.
One of the staff nurses came into my room and said that I wasn’t to be given oral antibiotics until 4th October so my line would remain in until then.
I challenged her about this, repeating what Andrew and Kermit had said.
“It’s on our computer as 4th October so it must be right”, she replied.
I was not happy. I then asked her what the ‘something’ I was to be given to make my blood clot. She replied that it would be vitamin K. However there were some disagreement between the doctors about how it was to be administered, so they would finish off their disagreement sometime tomorrow. You couldn’t make it up !!!!!!!
She then tried to flush my central line, ready for the IV antibiotics, but it had become blocked again. I would have to have a line put into my hand, she said. I showed her the state of my arms and hands and said I wasn’t having any more lines put in, especially since I was told I would be starting oral antibiotics today.
She left the room then came back a few minutes later to say that all the day doctors had gone home and that there was only the on-call doctor available. I got the impression that she didn’t really want to contact him.
“You’ve got to have your antibiotics”, she snapped, “so if you won’t have a line put in your hand, then you’ll have to have another central line put in”.
I was about to explode with rage. She must have noticed by my face.” I’ll contact the on-call doctor”, she said.
30 minutes later she came back and said that the doctor had agreed for me to have oral antibiotics. Result !!!!!
I was still in ward 44 as yet again ward 42 refused to take me. I wasn’t allowed to unpack my belongings as they were going to try again in the morning to see if they would take me.
Didn’t finish my final batch of antibiotics until 2am. My arm, shoulder and elbow were really aching as I had to lie in an awkward position because the antibiotic liquid wasn’t dripping in the chamber properly.
Doctor Zara came to see me just after 7.30am to check that I was ok after yesterdays excitement.
“Last night I told one of my doctor friends what happened and he said ‘it wasn’t one of Mr Green’s patients, was it”.
“What did you say”, I asked,
“I said yes and he replied “I don’t want to be in your shoes when you tell him”.
“Does he know”, I said.
She shook her head, “we’re trying to buck up the courage to tell him”.
“Good luck”, I wished her…
Kermit called just as I was having breakfast.
“Your line is due to be removed today”, he asked.
Before I had a chance to answer, Sister Clarke, who was accompanying him, replied it was, then quickly glossed over what had happened yesterday. He hadn’t heard her so asked how my wound was doing. He would give it another 7-10 days and if there wasn’t any change then I would have to have more surgery to ‘wash’ out the wound.
Another week in hospital !!!! I was gutted as I wanted to go home, and I certainly didn’t want another trip to theatre. I was lucky the last time as I didn’t throw up, but knowing my luck, I didn’t think it would be second time lucky...
Sister Charlton came to take away my washing bowl so I asked if I would be moving to ward 42, as I felt like a nomad with my things still in carrier bags. She replied that it was still the plan once I got my blood clotting sorted and my line out. I asked what was the matter with my blood.
“Before we can remove your central line, we have to make sure your blood will clot. At the moment yours isn’t so we want to run some more tests”.
About 10.10am a porter came to take me down to x-ray.
“What for”, I asked.
“Dunno”, he replied.
I looked down at my dressing. It was handing off. I tried to press it back on but it wasn’t sticking very well. I had already told Sister Charlton that it was coming away earlier this morning and was told it would be changed later.
The x-ray was for my hip. It was a little embarrassing having to lie on the x-ray table with a dressing hanging off.
Having been away from the ward for over an hour and a half I was desperate for the loo. When I finally got back to the ward and to the loo, most of my dressing fell off into the toilet bowl…. Instead of changing the dressing, all they did was patch it up. I was not impressed.
There was still no word when I would be getting my central line removed. Just before lunch Sister Charlton came to take more blood (took two attempts – as always….) and said the line would be out this afternoon.
Shortly afterward Andrew, the microbiologist, came and said that he wanted the line removed as soon as possible. The longer it remained the more chance it had of becoming infected, and as my system was riddled with infection, he didn’t want another one added to the list. He explained that I would be given two different types of oral antibiotics, starting today. One to be taken four times a day and the other twice a day.
“Do you wear contact lenses”, he asked.
“No”, I replied.
“Good”, he said, “as one of the side effects from the antibiotics is they turn your wee red... It also causes contact lens to turn red as well. We have to warn patients otherwise we might get sued”.
One of the staff nurses came with my afternoon painkillers and said she would be coming back with some IV antibiotics. I asked why as I was supposed to start taking oral today. She replied that there was still no word yet when my line was going to be removed so they may as well use it while it’s there.
“But the microbiologist said I was to start taking them orally”, I repeated.
She just shrugged her shoulders.
“When can I have my dressing changed as it’s hanging off”, I asked, showing her the dressing.
She just shrugged her shoulders again.
To say I was unhappy was an understatement. Surely these people communicate with one another, so why the blank look about my antibiotics. My dressing was soaking, so too was the mat I was sitting on. I wasn’t able to walk to the toilet as the dressing was hanging off. I couldn’t do any walking exercises as the physios wouldn’t let me walk because of my dressing. To hell with it, I thought. The next time the physios came I’m was going walking….
My central line was not coming out as apparently there was something wrong with my ‘count’. I was going to be given ‘something’ (didn’t know what, they didn’t tell me….) to help my blood clot. More blood was taken and it would be taken again tomorrow to see if the ‘count’ was normal again.
I was getting a little fed up. I had been in hospital for nearly three weeks and there were no signs of me making much progress. At this rate I would still be in another three weeks !!!!!!
There were two bits of good news late afternoon. I had been given a zimmer without wheels and was told I could walk short distances but only under supervision, and Amy, the third year student nurse, said she would change my dressing.
She said she would meet me in the dressing rooms so I had to make my own way there. It was quite a hike to the dressing room and I was not supervised while walking which I wasn’t pleased about. By the time I got there I was shattered !!
When John arrived that evening I told him what had been happening and it took all my strength not to burst into tears. I felt really depressed and that wasn’t like me.
One of the staff nurses came into my room and said that I wasn’t to be given oral antibiotics until 4th October so my line would remain in until then.
I challenged her about this, repeating what Andrew and Kermit had said.
“It’s on our computer as 4th October so it must be right”, she replied.
I was not happy. I then asked her what the ‘something’ I was to be given to make my blood clot. She replied that it would be vitamin K. However there were some disagreement between the doctors about how it was to be administered, so they would finish off their disagreement sometime tomorrow. You couldn’t make it up !!!!!!!
She then tried to flush my central line, ready for the IV antibiotics, but it had become blocked again. I would have to have a line put into my hand, she said. I showed her the state of my arms and hands and said I wasn’t having any more lines put in, especially since I was told I would be starting oral antibiotics today.
She left the room then came back a few minutes later to say that all the day doctors had gone home and that there was only the on-call doctor available. I got the impression that she didn’t really want to contact him.
“You’ve got to have your antibiotics”, she snapped, “so if you won’t have a line put in your hand, then you’ll have to have another central line put in”.
I was about to explode with rage. She must have noticed by my face.” I’ll contact the on-call doctor”, she said.
30 minutes later she came back and said that the doctor had agreed for me to have oral antibiotics. Result !!!!!
Tuesday, 9 February 2010
Day 21 – What a day !!!!!
Tuesday 29th September 2009
One of the night staff nurses came to flush out the line that had been put into my hand yesterday so I could have the blood transfusion. I nearly hit the ceiling with the pain. She tried it again and the same thing happened.
“Well, there’s blood coming out so it must be clear”, she said.
“Trust me”, I snapped, “ it’s blocked”.
She rang the ICU for advice and they said they would get back to her. In the mean time the antibiotics would use the central line as normal. They finished at midnight and having been given the go ahead by ICU to use the central line for the transfusion, they connected me up.
The blood wouldn’t flowing through the line whilst I was lying down so I had to sit upright all night while the transfusion of two units of blood took place. The use of the central line was finally finished at 8.25am. It had been in constant use for over 11 hours. I was shattered !!!!!!!!
Doctor Zara came to see me just after breakfast and said that I looked a lot brighter than yesterday, thanks to the blood transfusion. At first I found her a bit abrupt but once I’ve got to know her, she was really nice. She always popped into say hello every morning, even if she had no reason to see me.
Had my blood pressure taken at 10am and it was low again. They couldn’t understand why as I had been given some blood. I told them once again that I always had low blood pressure but they weren’t interested.
Lisa, the physio, came to take me for a walk but having looked at my vitals chart, said I couldn’t because of my low blood pressure. I was getting a bit annoyed as I was didn’t feel ill or had any other symptoms which was associated to low blood pressure.
Only one more day and I could have the central line removed. Maureen, one of the auxiliary nurses, had promised to wash my hair as soon as it was removed as I hadn’t been able to have either a shower or hair wash because of my line.
My mam came for afternoon visiting with my Godparents, Geoff and Maureen. They had just arrived when Lisa asked if I would like to go for a walk. I felt a bit silly having an audience whilst I walked but I did manage to walk a lot further than before. Tomorrow Lisa wanted to try me walking using a zimmer without wheels. I was happy with that as it was one more step (no pun intended….) in getting me home.
Norma came to give me some antibiotics but found my central line was blocked. When an IV line gets blocked all they would do was simply flush it with a saline solution. However as it was a central line, they couldn’t because the line was in one of the major veins connected to the heart. They looked at hands and arms but couldn’t find a decent vein. They now had a bit of a dilemma as they didn’t want to put in another central line seeing as it was due to come out tomorrow.
Doctor Zara and a nurse practitioner from ICU came to have a look at my line. It was well blocked. The practitioner decided to try something.
“Oh”, I said,
“What’s the matter”, asked Zara.
“I’ve just had a strange feeling in my chest. It felt just like I had a waterfall flowing”.
“Blood pressure check. NOW”, yelled the practitioner to Zara who dashed off to get a monitor.
“Have you any chest pain? Do you feel clammy? How do you feel in yourself”, asked the practitioner.
“I’m fine”, I said trying to reassure them, “it was just a strange sensation that was all”.
“I want vital signs taken every five minutes for the next hour then every fifteen minutes after that”, ordered the practitioner.
Poor Zara. I really had panicked her.
“I promise you I don’t die on your shift”, I joked.
“You better not”, she laughed, “otherwise Mr Green will have me dangling from a lamp post”.
All the nurses were now making a big fuss over me. Norma came and put her hand on mine and give it a squeeze.
“Are you ok”, she asked.
“I’m fine”.
I kept saying this to people, over and over again and it was starting to annoy me big time. I don’t like people making a fuss so felt like yelling ‘leave me alone. I said I was fine !!!!’.
Half an hour later a calmer Zara popped back to see me.
“You really had us worried”, she said.
She then explained what had happened, “Once we had all calmed down and could think straight, we realised that when the syringe was pulled back, it caused a slight ‘back draft’ which was the sensation you experienced”.
She then said that I was to continue have my blood pressure taken and if I had any pains, or just felt unwell, I had to yell, not buzz, for help.
I told John that evening what had happened with my central line and he thought it was rather amusing.
A little later Christa came in and announced that I was going to be moved to another ward.
“It’s not because of what happened this afternoon”, I asked, thinking they were going to send me to a chest ward.
“No”, she replied, “you don’t need any medical care now, you need rehab”.
She explained that they were getting nine admissions tomorrow and they needed the beds. As I didn’t need any medical attention anymore, I would be moved to ward 42 which was an orthopaedic rehabilitation ward.
A porter would be coming to take me there in half an hour so asked if John could start packing up my things. Norma offered to help so she and John started stuffing things into carrier bags.
Christa said she would go to the ward ahead of us to hand over my notes and to tell them that I needed my blood pressure taken every hour until midnight.
Twenty minutes later she returned. She was not a happy lady.
“They won’t accept you”, she said fuming, “they are not prepared to take your blood pressure”.
“I can’t see that being a problem”, I replied.
“Neither can I. However they say that as you require your pressure to be taken every hour until midnight, that is medical care and they don’t ‘do’ medical care”.
I felt like a bag lady as all my belongings were stashed in a corner of my room. They wouldn’t let me unpack in case they changed their mind at midnight and accept me.
You couldn’t make it up !!!!!!
One of the night staff nurses came to flush out the line that had been put into my hand yesterday so I could have the blood transfusion. I nearly hit the ceiling with the pain. She tried it again and the same thing happened.
“Well, there’s blood coming out so it must be clear”, she said.
“Trust me”, I snapped, “ it’s blocked”.
She rang the ICU for advice and they said they would get back to her. In the mean time the antibiotics would use the central line as normal. They finished at midnight and having been given the go ahead by ICU to use the central line for the transfusion, they connected me up.
The blood wouldn’t flowing through the line whilst I was lying down so I had to sit upright all night while the transfusion of two units of blood took place. The use of the central line was finally finished at 8.25am. It had been in constant use for over 11 hours. I was shattered !!!!!!!!
Doctor Zara came to see me just after breakfast and said that I looked a lot brighter than yesterday, thanks to the blood transfusion. At first I found her a bit abrupt but once I’ve got to know her, she was really nice. She always popped into say hello every morning, even if she had no reason to see me.
Had my blood pressure taken at 10am and it was low again. They couldn’t understand why as I had been given some blood. I told them once again that I always had low blood pressure but they weren’t interested.
Lisa, the physio, came to take me for a walk but having looked at my vitals chart, said I couldn’t because of my low blood pressure. I was getting a bit annoyed as I was didn’t feel ill or had any other symptoms which was associated to low blood pressure.
Only one more day and I could have the central line removed. Maureen, one of the auxiliary nurses, had promised to wash my hair as soon as it was removed as I hadn’t been able to have either a shower or hair wash because of my line.
My mam came for afternoon visiting with my Godparents, Geoff and Maureen. They had just arrived when Lisa asked if I would like to go for a walk. I felt a bit silly having an audience whilst I walked but I did manage to walk a lot further than before. Tomorrow Lisa wanted to try me walking using a zimmer without wheels. I was happy with that as it was one more step (no pun intended….) in getting me home.
Norma came to give me some antibiotics but found my central line was blocked. When an IV line gets blocked all they would do was simply flush it with a saline solution. However as it was a central line, they couldn’t because the line was in one of the major veins connected to the heart. They looked at hands and arms but couldn’t find a decent vein. They now had a bit of a dilemma as they didn’t want to put in another central line seeing as it was due to come out tomorrow.
Doctor Zara and a nurse practitioner from ICU came to have a look at my line. It was well blocked. The practitioner decided to try something.
“Oh”, I said,
“What’s the matter”, asked Zara.
“I’ve just had a strange feeling in my chest. It felt just like I had a waterfall flowing”.
“Blood pressure check. NOW”, yelled the practitioner to Zara who dashed off to get a monitor.
“Have you any chest pain? Do you feel clammy? How do you feel in yourself”, asked the practitioner.
“I’m fine”, I said trying to reassure them, “it was just a strange sensation that was all”.
“I want vital signs taken every five minutes for the next hour then every fifteen minutes after that”, ordered the practitioner.
Poor Zara. I really had panicked her.
“I promise you I don’t die on your shift”, I joked.
“You better not”, she laughed, “otherwise Mr Green will have me dangling from a lamp post”.
All the nurses were now making a big fuss over me. Norma came and put her hand on mine and give it a squeeze.
“Are you ok”, she asked.
“I’m fine”.
I kept saying this to people, over and over again and it was starting to annoy me big time. I don’t like people making a fuss so felt like yelling ‘leave me alone. I said I was fine !!!!’.
Half an hour later a calmer Zara popped back to see me.
“You really had us worried”, she said.
She then explained what had happened, “Once we had all calmed down and could think straight, we realised that when the syringe was pulled back, it caused a slight ‘back draft’ which was the sensation you experienced”.
She then said that I was to continue have my blood pressure taken and if I had any pains, or just felt unwell, I had to yell, not buzz, for help.
I told John that evening what had happened with my central line and he thought it was rather amusing.
A little later Christa came in and announced that I was going to be moved to another ward.
“It’s not because of what happened this afternoon”, I asked, thinking they were going to send me to a chest ward.
“No”, she replied, “you don’t need any medical care now, you need rehab”.
She explained that they were getting nine admissions tomorrow and they needed the beds. As I didn’t need any medical attention anymore, I would be moved to ward 42 which was an orthopaedic rehabilitation ward.
A porter would be coming to take me there in half an hour so asked if John could start packing up my things. Norma offered to help so she and John started stuffing things into carrier bags.
Christa said she would go to the ward ahead of us to hand over my notes and to tell them that I needed my blood pressure taken every hour until midnight.
Twenty minutes later she returned. She was not a happy lady.
“They won’t accept you”, she said fuming, “they are not prepared to take your blood pressure”.
“I can’t see that being a problem”, I replied.
“Neither can I. However they say that as you require your pressure to be taken every hour until midnight, that is medical care and they don’t ‘do’ medical care”.
I felt like a bag lady as all my belongings were stashed in a corner of my room. They wouldn’t let me unpack in case they changed their mind at midnight and accept me.
You couldn’t make it up !!!!!!
Monday, 8 February 2010
Day 20 – Three little things
Monday 28th September 2009
I couldn’t wait until I got my central line out as it wasn’t particularly comfortable sleeping upright. It wasn’t very pretty to look at too…
Had some more blood taken that morning so hopefully the results would show that the antibiotics were working.
Kermit came to see me this morning just as I was in the middle of getting dressed. Sister Clarke, the Ward Manager, who was accompanying him on his rounds made him wait outside my room while she helped me get decent. I asked him when I would be able to go home. He replied that there were three things:
· Andrew, the microbiologist, had to be confident that the antibiotics were working and that he was happy for me to take them orally.
· The leaking from my wound had to be completely dry.
· I had to be mobile and safe at home.
Two of the three things were out of my control. However the third, being mobile, I was able to do something about so was determined to work harder with my walking.
Kermit suggested that I come off the blood clotting injections as whilst they help clot the blood, they also make any wound oozing last longer. No more stabbing in the stomach – yippee !!!!
My hip wound was still weeping so Christa, the lovely German staff nurse, wheeled me, and the bed, into the dressing room. Although Kermit had given instructions that my theatre dressing had not to be changed, it had become quite saturated so he had allowed it to be replaced. She had a look at my wound and said it was doing fine and that there didn’t appear to be any infection. Christa then looked at the burn on my knee and thought it was taking too long to heal, so put some jell, similar to what I had on my pressure sore, on it to try and get rid of all the dead skin.
Because I didn’t have a hip joint my left leg was considerably shorter than my right leg so I was walking on the tips of my left toes. I was hoping that when the physio’s came today I had made some more progress with my walking. Lisa, one of the physios, had suggested I try some leg muscle strengthening exercises. I hate exercising, no matter how simple they are. However if I wanted to go home, I had to do them. It certainly paid off as I was able to walk further today and without any assistance. I was now allowed to walk to the loo with a nurse accompanying me, just for safety. It may not have seemed like much but it was a huge step for me. I was on the next run of the ladder home.
During the nurses afternoon handover (where the nurses who are just starting work are told what had been happening with the patients) which takes place at the nurses work station (which just happens to be next to my side room) I overheard them mention that my ‘count’ had gone down.
Natalie, a lovely second year nursing student, took my ‘obs’ and said that my blood pressure and temperature were slightly low. I explained that my blood pressure was always low and that the nurses were aware of this.
About 10 minutes later I was told that following the blood sample taken this morning, my cell count was 79 and it should be 80, and that I would need another blood transfusion. More blood was taken so they could do a cross matching.
I was told they had contacted the ICU to see if the central line could be used for the blood transfusion and was told it would be ok. However, as usual, there was a conflict between ICU and one of the doctors. Doctor Zara decided she didn’t want to now use the central line and put a line in my arm instead. She looked at my veins and even though they were shot to pieces, she was determined to put a line in.
Consequently I wasn’t able to walk as the line was restricting the movement in my hand, which was needed to hold onto the zimmer frame. I was not happy…..
Norma, one of the staff nurses, told me that the transfusion would take place as soon as possible as they were concerned that I was looking very pale and my blood pressure was getting lower.
Had to have my dressing changed again as it had been leaking quite a bit. Even though the wound didn’t look infected a swab was taken just in case there was an infection.
My mam came that afternoon and brought some sandwiches for me. I was so hungry I could have eaten them ten times over. As usual mam decided to read out loud what was on the menu that evening. Instantly I felt queasy. I asked her to stop but she kept on talking. In the end I had to yell at her to shut up.
Due to my wound leaking onto my clothing I didn’t have a clean nightshirt or t-shirt (it needed to be wide neck so it could go over my central line). I had to use one of the hospital theatre gowns. My mam wasn’t very happy about that so decided to go through all the nightshirts and t-shirts that were in my locker to see if she could find one. I kept telling her there wasn’t anything suitable in there but she just ignored me and kept on looking. She was now starting to annoy me. She found a nightshirt in a carrier bag and asked what that it was doing there.
“It’s for John to take home tonight so he can wash it and bring it in tomorrow night”.
“I can wash it”, she replied.
“It’s ok,” I said, “John has some washing to do tonight”.
“I said I can wash it”.
“John’s quite happy to do it”.
“I can wash it”.
This went on for ages. In the end I said she could take it as she was really irritating me and I was frightened I’d snap and say something nasty to her. I was so glad when she left as she was getting on my nerves big time…
Thankfully I was in a better mood with John when he came that evening. We chatted about what we were going to do when I eventually go home. The first thing on the list was a takeaway pizza and a glass of wine, if Andrew would allow it. Then it would be:
· A trip to the Wessington pub for lunch, preferably their Wiltshire ham, eggs and chips.
· A trip to the Chinese restaurant to make up for the meal I never had on my birthday.
· A trip to the Metro Centre and a possible visit to Pizza Hut.
I couldn’t wait !!!!
I couldn’t wait until I got my central line out as it wasn’t particularly comfortable sleeping upright. It wasn’t very pretty to look at too…
Had some more blood taken that morning so hopefully the results would show that the antibiotics were working.
Kermit came to see me this morning just as I was in the middle of getting dressed. Sister Clarke, the Ward Manager, who was accompanying him on his rounds made him wait outside my room while she helped me get decent. I asked him when I would be able to go home. He replied that there were three things:
· Andrew, the microbiologist, had to be confident that the antibiotics were working and that he was happy for me to take them orally.
· The leaking from my wound had to be completely dry.
· I had to be mobile and safe at home.
Two of the three things were out of my control. However the third, being mobile, I was able to do something about so was determined to work harder with my walking.
Kermit suggested that I come off the blood clotting injections as whilst they help clot the blood, they also make any wound oozing last longer. No more stabbing in the stomach – yippee !!!!
My hip wound was still weeping so Christa, the lovely German staff nurse, wheeled me, and the bed, into the dressing room. Although Kermit had given instructions that my theatre dressing had not to be changed, it had become quite saturated so he had allowed it to be replaced. She had a look at my wound and said it was doing fine and that there didn’t appear to be any infection. Christa then looked at the burn on my knee and thought it was taking too long to heal, so put some jell, similar to what I had on my pressure sore, on it to try and get rid of all the dead skin.
Because I didn’t have a hip joint my left leg was considerably shorter than my right leg so I was walking on the tips of my left toes. I was hoping that when the physio’s came today I had made some more progress with my walking. Lisa, one of the physios, had suggested I try some leg muscle strengthening exercises. I hate exercising, no matter how simple they are. However if I wanted to go home, I had to do them. It certainly paid off as I was able to walk further today and without any assistance. I was now allowed to walk to the loo with a nurse accompanying me, just for safety. It may not have seemed like much but it was a huge step for me. I was on the next run of the ladder home.
During the nurses afternoon handover (where the nurses who are just starting work are told what had been happening with the patients) which takes place at the nurses work station (which just happens to be next to my side room) I overheard them mention that my ‘count’ had gone down.
Natalie, a lovely second year nursing student, took my ‘obs’ and said that my blood pressure and temperature were slightly low. I explained that my blood pressure was always low and that the nurses were aware of this.
About 10 minutes later I was told that following the blood sample taken this morning, my cell count was 79 and it should be 80, and that I would need another blood transfusion. More blood was taken so they could do a cross matching.
I was told they had contacted the ICU to see if the central line could be used for the blood transfusion and was told it would be ok. However, as usual, there was a conflict between ICU and one of the doctors. Doctor Zara decided she didn’t want to now use the central line and put a line in my arm instead. She looked at my veins and even though they were shot to pieces, she was determined to put a line in.
Consequently I wasn’t able to walk as the line was restricting the movement in my hand, which was needed to hold onto the zimmer frame. I was not happy…..
Norma, one of the staff nurses, told me that the transfusion would take place as soon as possible as they were concerned that I was looking very pale and my blood pressure was getting lower.
Had to have my dressing changed again as it had been leaking quite a bit. Even though the wound didn’t look infected a swab was taken just in case there was an infection.
My mam came that afternoon and brought some sandwiches for me. I was so hungry I could have eaten them ten times over. As usual mam decided to read out loud what was on the menu that evening. Instantly I felt queasy. I asked her to stop but she kept on talking. In the end I had to yell at her to shut up.
Due to my wound leaking onto my clothing I didn’t have a clean nightshirt or t-shirt (it needed to be wide neck so it could go over my central line). I had to use one of the hospital theatre gowns. My mam wasn’t very happy about that so decided to go through all the nightshirts and t-shirts that were in my locker to see if she could find one. I kept telling her there wasn’t anything suitable in there but she just ignored me and kept on looking. She was now starting to annoy me. She found a nightshirt in a carrier bag and asked what that it was doing there.
“It’s for John to take home tonight so he can wash it and bring it in tomorrow night”.
“I can wash it”, she replied.
“It’s ok,” I said, “John has some washing to do tonight”.
“I said I can wash it”.
“John’s quite happy to do it”.
“I can wash it”.
This went on for ages. In the end I said she could take it as she was really irritating me and I was frightened I’d snap and say something nasty to her. I was so glad when she left as she was getting on my nerves big time…
Thankfully I was in a better mood with John when he came that evening. We chatted about what we were going to do when I eventually go home. The first thing on the list was a takeaway pizza and a glass of wine, if Andrew would allow it. Then it would be:
· A trip to the Wessington pub for lunch, preferably their Wiltshire ham, eggs and chips.
· A trip to the Chinese restaurant to make up for the meal I never had on my birthday.
· A trip to the Metro Centre and a possible visit to Pizza Hut.
I couldn’t wait !!!!
Sunday, 7 February 2010
Day 19 – Walking with wheels
Sunday 27th September 2009
Slept ok last night. Had to have three lots of IV antibiotics so was ‘wired for sound’ for over an hour every four to five hours a day.
One of the staff nurses (couldn’t remember her name) wasn’t very happy with me as my fluid chart said I wasn’t drinking enough during the night. Last night, other than some water to wash down a painkiller, I only had a few sips of apple juice. What did they expect me to do, wake up every half an hour to have a glass of water !!!!
I was so bored. I couldn’t face doing my needlework cushion and reading was out of the questions as it kept making me go to sleep…
The worse time for being bored was after washing (9am) and 2pm. Thankfully seeing as I didn’t have my catheter bag anymore, I could go back to bed for 40 winks during the morning.
I asked myself if I would like to be in a side room when I came back in to have my hip put in and to be honest I wasn’t sure. Being on your own was great as you can do your own thing without disturbing the rest of the patients. However when you were on your own, there was a tendency to feel like you were being forgotten about. On a ward you could easily catch a nurse if you needed anything, whereas in a side room you had to buzz and it felt like you were constantly buzzing and being a nuisance.
Joanna, the weekend physio, came to see me that afternoon while John was visiting and asked if I’d like to try walking again. Still couldn’t manage so her assistant went and got a walking frame with wheels, which had sort of bicycle handle bars attached to it. My arms and elbows lay across the bars and took some of the weight off my right leg. It was really hard work at first but I managed to walk about twenty feet. Joanna was really impressed with my progress, considering that yesterday I couldn’t walk at all.
Slept ok last night. Had to have three lots of IV antibiotics so was ‘wired for sound’ for over an hour every four to five hours a day.
One of the staff nurses (couldn’t remember her name) wasn’t very happy with me as my fluid chart said I wasn’t drinking enough during the night. Last night, other than some water to wash down a painkiller, I only had a few sips of apple juice. What did they expect me to do, wake up every half an hour to have a glass of water !!!!
I was so bored. I couldn’t face doing my needlework cushion and reading was out of the questions as it kept making me go to sleep…
The worse time for being bored was after washing (9am) and 2pm. Thankfully seeing as I didn’t have my catheter bag anymore, I could go back to bed for 40 winks during the morning.
I asked myself if I would like to be in a side room when I came back in to have my hip put in and to be honest I wasn’t sure. Being on your own was great as you can do your own thing without disturbing the rest of the patients. However when you were on your own, there was a tendency to feel like you were being forgotten about. On a ward you could easily catch a nurse if you needed anything, whereas in a side room you had to buzz and it felt like you were constantly buzzing and being a nuisance.
Joanna, the weekend physio, came to see me that afternoon while John was visiting and asked if I’d like to try walking again. Still couldn’t manage so her assistant went and got a walking frame with wheels, which had sort of bicycle handle bars attached to it. My arms and elbows lay across the bars and took some of the weight off my right leg. It was really hard work at first but I managed to walk about twenty feet. Joanna was really impressed with my progress, considering that yesterday I couldn’t walk at all.
Saturday, 6 February 2010
Day 18 – First tentative steps
Saturday 26th September 2009
I slept pretty well for a change. I settled down last night at 11.15pm and slept right through until I was woken at 2am to have my op’s taken. I had to ask for some morphine at 3am, then slept until 6.15am.
I was a bit stiff in the morning as I had to sleep propped up because of the lines dangling from my central line.
The night-shift nurses were so much better than on ward 43. The other nurses I wasn’t so sure about as I hadn’t spoken or had much to do with them.
The mornings were getting so boring. All I seemed to be want to do is sleep. Not easy when you had wires coming out of your neck…. Even doing my needlework cushion had lost it’s allure.
I was still having to take the high calorie drinks and also they had put me on a fluid chart, as apparently I wasn’t drinking enough. The hot drinks were horrible and the water undrinkable. Thankfully John had brought me some cartons of juice so I just drank them.
Andrew, the microbiologist, came to see me in the morning. They had established what germs were causing the infection. I asked if they were anything nasty like MRSA. He reassured me there wasn’t anything to worry about. I would stay on the IV antibiotics until Wednesday then hopefully go onto oral after that.
The physio's tried to get me up walking that afternoon. I didn’t do very well as couldn’t move my left leg and the right leg wasn’t strong enough to cope with the extra strain on it. I was a little concerned that they wouldn’t allow me home until I was able to walk on crutches, like the last time. Alicia reassured me that as long as I was able to do things for myself, they would arrange help for me to get around.
I was glad that my mam was there to see how difficulty it was for me to walk as she would have told me I was putting it on and not trying enough. She’s like that…
Kermit popped in to see me later that afternoon for a quick chat. I explained about the lack of movement in my leg but he said there wasn’t anything to worry about as it was still early days. I also mentioned that I was concerned about my wound leaking. He said that was fine and that this sort of thing happens. However the wound dressing would not be replaced as he was worried about infection. Apparently he did not allow the nurses to remove his dressings. Only he could authorise their removal.
Because I wasn’t very mobile, not only did I have to wear the pressure stockings, I had to have an injection every day to try and stop my blood from clotting.
They stab you in the stomach, which is quite painful, and the area where they’ve jab you stings for about 10 minutes. It also caused bruising so my stomach was black and blue. It matched my hands and arms….
Asked one of the night-shift staff nurses if I could have my catheter removed. Andrew had mentioned this morning that he would like to see if removed as it was another place for infection and that was the last thing they wanted me to get.
I thought it would hurt or be uncomfortable when it was removed but it wasn’t. Gosh, something that didn’t hurt !!!!
I slept pretty well for a change. I settled down last night at 11.15pm and slept right through until I was woken at 2am to have my op’s taken. I had to ask for some morphine at 3am, then slept until 6.15am.
I was a bit stiff in the morning as I had to sleep propped up because of the lines dangling from my central line.
The night-shift nurses were so much better than on ward 43. The other nurses I wasn’t so sure about as I hadn’t spoken or had much to do with them.
The mornings were getting so boring. All I seemed to be want to do is sleep. Not easy when you had wires coming out of your neck…. Even doing my needlework cushion had lost it’s allure.
I was still having to take the high calorie drinks and also they had put me on a fluid chart, as apparently I wasn’t drinking enough. The hot drinks were horrible and the water undrinkable. Thankfully John had brought me some cartons of juice so I just drank them.
Andrew, the microbiologist, came to see me in the morning. They had established what germs were causing the infection. I asked if they were anything nasty like MRSA. He reassured me there wasn’t anything to worry about. I would stay on the IV antibiotics until Wednesday then hopefully go onto oral after that.
The physio's tried to get me up walking that afternoon. I didn’t do very well as couldn’t move my left leg and the right leg wasn’t strong enough to cope with the extra strain on it. I was a little concerned that they wouldn’t allow me home until I was able to walk on crutches, like the last time. Alicia reassured me that as long as I was able to do things for myself, they would arrange help for me to get around.
I was glad that my mam was there to see how difficulty it was for me to walk as she would have told me I was putting it on and not trying enough. She’s like that…
Kermit popped in to see me later that afternoon for a quick chat. I explained about the lack of movement in my leg but he said there wasn’t anything to worry about as it was still early days. I also mentioned that I was concerned about my wound leaking. He said that was fine and that this sort of thing happens. However the wound dressing would not be replaced as he was worried about infection. Apparently he did not allow the nurses to remove his dressings. Only he could authorise their removal.
Because I wasn’t very mobile, not only did I have to wear the pressure stockings, I had to have an injection every day to try and stop my blood from clotting.
They stab you in the stomach, which is quite painful, and the area where they’ve jab you stings for about 10 minutes. It also caused bruising so my stomach was black and blue. It matched my hands and arms….
Asked one of the night-shift staff nurses if I could have my catheter removed. Andrew had mentioned this morning that he would like to see if removed as it was another place for infection and that was the last thing they wanted me to get.
I thought it would hurt or be uncomfortable when it was removed but it wasn’t. Gosh, something that didn’t hurt !!!!
Friday, 5 February 2010
Day 17 - Hipless
Friday 25th September 2009
I didn’t sleep very well again last night but that’s to be expected.
Around midnight a nurse practitioner from ICU came to see me. Whenever anyone has been moved from ICU into the main ward, they always come to check to see how the patient is doing.
He examined me then asked how I was managing with the pain. I told him my hip was still hurting and that I was using the morphine dispenser quiet a bit.
One of the nightshift staff nurses came into the room and he asked her what had been planned in regards to my pain relief. The nurse replied that they were going to take me off the morphine dispenser and put me on oral painkillers.
He was not happy about that and said that the IV morphine had to remain in place. A bit of an argument took place then the nurse said he would have to take it up with one of the doctors.
Kermit popped in to see me just before breakfast. He was pleased with the way the operation had gone. I wouldn’t need a skin graft as he had been able to nip the skin around my hip together. However he wasn’t able to put in a replacement hip as there was too much infection. I gathered that was the case as I overheard it being mentioned when I was in intensive care, plus I didn’t have a bolster cushion wedged between my hips (the cushion is used to keep the new hip in place for 24 hours).
I asked Kermit how long before he would be able to put in a new hip. He replied that it would be several months as it couldn’t be put in while the infection was still there. He sympathised and said that it probably wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but it was for the best that he waited as long as possible.
A sister from the Pain Unit called to see me in the morning. She said that they were going to put me on stronger oral painkillers so the IV morphine would be removed. It looked like the ICU practitioner had lost the argument…
Two ‘central line’ nurses came to see me. They had come to check that the line was working ok.
Andrew, the microbiologist, also called and explained that samples of the infection had been taken during the operation. Cultures would then be grown to establish what kind of germs they were so they could give me the correct antibiotics. He should have some information in the next couple of days. In the mean time they would start me back on the IV antibiotics again.
Alicia and Lisa, the two ward physiotherapist, came to get me get out of bed. I couldn’t put any weight on my left leg as there was no hip joint to support is, so moving was extremely difficult and boy did it hurt like hell !!!!!! However I managed somehow to get to the chair and they were both pleased with what I had done.
I mentioned to John that evening that my time in ICU definitely wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be, and that in a strange sort of way, I had actually enjoyed it.
John commented that when one of the nurses had come to take him to see me, they had told him I was doing well and that they couldn’t see why I had been brought in to intensive care as there wasn’t anything wrong with me…
I didn’t sleep very well again last night but that’s to be expected.
Around midnight a nurse practitioner from ICU came to see me. Whenever anyone has been moved from ICU into the main ward, they always come to check to see how the patient is doing.
He examined me then asked how I was managing with the pain. I told him my hip was still hurting and that I was using the morphine dispenser quiet a bit.
One of the nightshift staff nurses came into the room and he asked her what had been planned in regards to my pain relief. The nurse replied that they were going to take me off the morphine dispenser and put me on oral painkillers.
He was not happy about that and said that the IV morphine had to remain in place. A bit of an argument took place then the nurse said he would have to take it up with one of the doctors.
Kermit popped in to see me just before breakfast. He was pleased with the way the operation had gone. I wouldn’t need a skin graft as he had been able to nip the skin around my hip together. However he wasn’t able to put in a replacement hip as there was too much infection. I gathered that was the case as I overheard it being mentioned when I was in intensive care, plus I didn’t have a bolster cushion wedged between my hips (the cushion is used to keep the new hip in place for 24 hours).
I asked Kermit how long before he would be able to put in a new hip. He replied that it would be several months as it couldn’t be put in while the infection was still there. He sympathised and said that it probably wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but it was for the best that he waited as long as possible.
A sister from the Pain Unit called to see me in the morning. She said that they were going to put me on stronger oral painkillers so the IV morphine would be removed. It looked like the ICU practitioner had lost the argument…
Two ‘central line’ nurses came to see me. They had come to check that the line was working ok.
Andrew, the microbiologist, also called and explained that samples of the infection had been taken during the operation. Cultures would then be grown to establish what kind of germs they were so they could give me the correct antibiotics. He should have some information in the next couple of days. In the mean time they would start me back on the IV antibiotics again.
Alicia and Lisa, the two ward physiotherapist, came to get me get out of bed. I couldn’t put any weight on my left leg as there was no hip joint to support is, so moving was extremely difficult and boy did it hurt like hell !!!!!! However I managed somehow to get to the chair and they were both pleased with what I had done.
I mentioned to John that evening that my time in ICU definitely wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be, and that in a strange sort of way, I had actually enjoyed it.
John commented that when one of the nurses had come to take him to see me, they had told him I was doing well and that they couldn’t see why I had been brought in to intensive care as there wasn’t anything wrong with me…
Thursday, 4 February 2010
Day 16 - The day after
Thursday 24th September 2009
I never got much sleep during the night. My left knee was still hurting and so too now was my hip. In the bed opposite was a man who was having trouble breathing. He kept coughing, moaning and swearing all night.
I didn’t fancy any breakfast but was persuaded to have some toast and jam. I ate a couple of slices of toast but I wasn’t really that hungry.
The man in the bed opposite me was now swearing like a trouper. Whilst the nightshift nurses took no notice, the dayshift staff didn’t as he was now swearing at them. He was told in no uncertain terms to watch his mouth – “I don’t care how ill you are, you will not speak to me like that” snapped one of the staff nurses. In her position I would have done the same.
Now that he couldn’t swear he was getting more and more agitated. Just before lunch they had to sedate him as he would not calm down.
There was quite a commotion going on as they tried to sedate him. I missed it as one of the anaesthetists was performing a minor operation on my central line. He was going to remove four of the lines as they were deemed unnecessary. I felt like swearing myself as even though the area was numbed with a local anaesthetic, it was still quite painful.
By the time the anaesthetist had finished working on my central line it was past lunchtime. It didn’t bother me as I wasn’t hungry but it did the staff so I was forced to have a ham sandwich. You would think it was impossible to spoil something as simple as a ham sandwich, but the catering department had found a way. It was horrible !!!
I was told that I would be going back onto the normal ward as soon as they could find a porter to take me there.
Instead of going back to ward 43, they were sending me to ward 44. I was a bit disappointed as I had got to know the day staff quite well and it was a nice ward.
Shortly after my mam had been allowed onto the ward to see me, the porter came to take me to ward 44. It took four people and a pathslide (a shiny white board used to slide patients from one bed to another) to move me as I was in too much pain to move across myself.
My side room in ward 44 wasn’t as nice as the one I had in ward 43. It was much smaller, didn’t have it’s own loo and wasn’t as clean as ward 43 (behind my locker was a large collection of dust and debris which looked like it had been there for quite some time…). On the plus side though it was right opposite the nurses station, with a window overlooking it and the ward corridor, so I didn’t feel as isolated as I was in ward 43.
The nurses seemed friendly enough, though they came across as being a bit more stricter than ward 43. Christa, a staff nurse from Germany, wasn’t happy with the way the nurses from ICU had tried to make my left knee comfortable.
“You cannot make someone comfortable by using a blanket”, she said as she removed the blanket which had been supporting my knee, “I will show you a better way”.
She took four pillows and arranged two of them in a ‘v’ shape behind my back then laid the other two over the top of the ‘v’.
“There”, she said, “better”.
“Yes”’ I replied, “it was”.
One of the registrar doctors came to see me. Her name was Zara. She came across as quite abrupt and didn’t seem to have much of a bedside manner. I hoped I didn’t have much to do with her.
Christa came back again and had with her a small bottle.
“The dietician is concerned that you are not eating enough so you have been prescribed these high calorie, multivitamin drinks. You are to have them twice a day”.
“If they gave me some decent food”, I said looking at the ‘orange’ flavoured drink, “I’ll eat it”.
I took a sip of the drink. It was just like a milk shake. I hate milk shakes !!!!
“There are other flavours you can have”, said Christa, “we’ve got strawberry, vanilla, lemon or fruit of the forest”.
“Can I try lemon the next time”, I said.
It was just as bad…
I never got much sleep during the night. My left knee was still hurting and so too now was my hip. In the bed opposite was a man who was having trouble breathing. He kept coughing, moaning and swearing all night.
I didn’t fancy any breakfast but was persuaded to have some toast and jam. I ate a couple of slices of toast but I wasn’t really that hungry.
The man in the bed opposite me was now swearing like a trouper. Whilst the nightshift nurses took no notice, the dayshift staff didn’t as he was now swearing at them. He was told in no uncertain terms to watch his mouth – “I don’t care how ill you are, you will not speak to me like that” snapped one of the staff nurses. In her position I would have done the same.
Now that he couldn’t swear he was getting more and more agitated. Just before lunch they had to sedate him as he would not calm down.
There was quite a commotion going on as they tried to sedate him. I missed it as one of the anaesthetists was performing a minor operation on my central line. He was going to remove four of the lines as they were deemed unnecessary. I felt like swearing myself as even though the area was numbed with a local anaesthetic, it was still quite painful.
By the time the anaesthetist had finished working on my central line it was past lunchtime. It didn’t bother me as I wasn’t hungry but it did the staff so I was forced to have a ham sandwich. You would think it was impossible to spoil something as simple as a ham sandwich, but the catering department had found a way. It was horrible !!!
I was told that I would be going back onto the normal ward as soon as they could find a porter to take me there.
Instead of going back to ward 43, they were sending me to ward 44. I was a bit disappointed as I had got to know the day staff quite well and it was a nice ward.
Shortly after my mam had been allowed onto the ward to see me, the porter came to take me to ward 44. It took four people and a pathslide (a shiny white board used to slide patients from one bed to another) to move me as I was in too much pain to move across myself.
My side room in ward 44 wasn’t as nice as the one I had in ward 43. It was much smaller, didn’t have it’s own loo and wasn’t as clean as ward 43 (behind my locker was a large collection of dust and debris which looked like it had been there for quite some time…). On the plus side though it was right opposite the nurses station, with a window overlooking it and the ward corridor, so I didn’t feel as isolated as I was in ward 43.
The nurses seemed friendly enough, though they came across as being a bit more stricter than ward 43. Christa, a staff nurse from Germany, wasn’t happy with the way the nurses from ICU had tried to make my left knee comfortable.
“You cannot make someone comfortable by using a blanket”, she said as she removed the blanket which had been supporting my knee, “I will show you a better way”.
She took four pillows and arranged two of them in a ‘v’ shape behind my back then laid the other two over the top of the ‘v’.
“There”, she said, “better”.
“Yes”’ I replied, “it was”.
One of the registrar doctors came to see me. Her name was Zara. She came across as quite abrupt and didn’t seem to have much of a bedside manner. I hoped I didn’t have much to do with her.
Christa came back again and had with her a small bottle.
“The dietician is concerned that you are not eating enough so you have been prescribed these high calorie, multivitamin drinks. You are to have them twice a day”.
“If they gave me some decent food”, I said looking at the ‘orange’ flavoured drink, “I’ll eat it”.
I took a sip of the drink. It was just like a milk shake. I hate milk shakes !!!!
“There are other flavours you can have”, said Christa, “we’ve got strawberry, vanilla, lemon or fruit of the forest”.
“Can I try lemon the next time”, I said.
It was just as bad…
Wednesday, 3 February 2010
Day 15 - The big day
Wednesday 23rd September 2009
As expected I didn't have a good night. I was too anxious about my operation to sleep. Even if I had been tired I couldn't get comfortable because I was wired for sound again. This time, instead of antibiotics, it was something to stop me being dehydrated during the operation.
Having been up, washed and into my theatre gown since 6am, it was a long morning.
I asked John last night to take home with him my radio, my MP3 players and other personal items. I was going to be away from my room for at least 48 hours so didn't want things going missing.
I passed the time doing some of my needlework cushion but the minutes just kept dragging.
Finally the theatre porter came for me at 11.40am. So much for mid morning…
In the waiting area of the theatre department I kept having to repeat my consent details over and over again. Each person would read the consent form then ask me to confirm my name, date of birth, did I have any dentures, did I have any crowns or veneers on my teeth and so on. It was getting a bit monotonous.
The anaesthetist who I saw yesterday came over and again I had to repeated my consent details to him. While the theatre staff were getting things prepared the anaesthetist sat down next to my trolley and started chatting to me. He asked where I lived then replied that his son used to drink in the Bluebell Pub (a pub not far from where I live) and that his wife, who was also a doctor, had worked in my GP's surgery.
He then said that he would do his best to make sure that I wouldn't suffer any nausea.
Yesterday I mentioned that I didn't really like the anaesthetist, well I was now warming to him as he was quite humorous and was putting me at ease.
Kermit popped over to say hello and asked if I had any objections to them taking photographs during the operation. He reassured me that it would just be of the hip area and that it was for training purposes only. I said I was happy with that.
I was wheeled into the anaesthetic room at 12.55pm and as usually the anaesthetist had difficulty in finding a suitable vein.
I liked the way they put me out. It was a gradual process, with lots of jokes from the anaesthetist and his assistant about alcohol, and I never even noticed that I was going to sleep.
The next thing I knew I was in the recovery room. I can vaguely remember being asked to wiggle my toes and that Kermit telling me that the operation had gone well.
It was only when I woke up a bit more did the pain hit me. Not in my hip as you might expect, but in my left knee. The recovery nurse pointed out that I had an IV morphine drip so I could press the buzzer and it would give me some pain relief. It became my new best friend !!!
I glanced at the clock and it was 7.30pm. The next time I looked it was 8.10pm and a nurse from Intensive Care had come to take me to the ward.
Unbeknown to me John had arrived at the ICU just after 6pm so had been waiting a while. Once I had been made comfortable in the High Dependency Unit of ICU and connected to various bits of machinery, the nurses allowed John to come and see me at 8.45pm. Unlike normal wards where visitors can go straight in to see the patients, ICU visitors are made to wait in a room and are then called into see the patients.
John stayed for half an hour. He wanted to stay longer but I wouldn't let him. I was concerned that he hadn't had anything to eat. However he wanted to stay as he was concerned about me. Reluctantly he agreed to go home but not before I reassured him that I was ok. I had had a drink of water and kept that down so it was looking promising that I wasn't going to be sick.
Because I was taking morphine I had to be on oxygen. I hate wearing an oxygen mask so one of the nurses swapped it for a nasal tube which was much better.
Attached to one of the bars at the bottom of my bed was a catheter bag. I'd never had one of them fitted before and it was really weird seeing your wee slowly filling the bag. There was also a strange feeling 'down below' whenever the catheter tube was moved. It was like going the sensation of weeing but with nothing coming out.
The staff in intensive care were brilliant. There was at least one nurse to every two patients and that soon became six nurses in a four patient ward. Never was the ward without a nurse so you didn't have to buzz and wait for anything.
About 10.30pm I was feeling a little hungry so was asked if I'd like some ice cream. It had come straight from the freezer so was solid (just how I like my ice cream). It took ages to eat but it was lovely, and the best bit, I didn't throw up. Yippee !!!!
Several doctors and nurse practitioners came to see me throughout the night but it was just to check that I was ok and not in severe pain.
During the operation I had a central line put into my neck. It was like a Venflon IV drip in the hand, only bigger, and had several drip lines connected to it. It was put in because of my terrible veins and that I may have to have several IV drips going on at any one time. It was rather uncomfortable as there were five drip tubes dangling from it.
Before the central line could be used an x-ray had to be taken to make sure it was in the correct position. This should have been done in theatre but wasn't, which didn't go down well with the staff on the ward.
A telephone call was made to the x-ray department and half an hour later two radiographers and a portable x-ray machine arrived.
Just before midnight one of the nurses asked if I would like to get freshened up. My left leg was completely covered in orange antiseptic, so too where my theatre gown and bed sheets. I said yes, expecting to be given a bowl to do it myself. Two nurses pulled closed my bed screens and started to give me a full pampered bed bath. It was lovely.
As expected I didn't have a good night. I was too anxious about my operation to sleep. Even if I had been tired I couldn't get comfortable because I was wired for sound again. This time, instead of antibiotics, it was something to stop me being dehydrated during the operation.
Having been up, washed and into my theatre gown since 6am, it was a long morning.
I asked John last night to take home with him my radio, my MP3 players and other personal items. I was going to be away from my room for at least 48 hours so didn't want things going missing.
I passed the time doing some of my needlework cushion but the minutes just kept dragging.
Finally the theatre porter came for me at 11.40am. So much for mid morning…
In the waiting area of the theatre department I kept having to repeat my consent details over and over again. Each person would read the consent form then ask me to confirm my name, date of birth, did I have any dentures, did I have any crowns or veneers on my teeth and so on. It was getting a bit monotonous.
The anaesthetist who I saw yesterday came over and again I had to repeated my consent details to him. While the theatre staff were getting things prepared the anaesthetist sat down next to my trolley and started chatting to me. He asked where I lived then replied that his son used to drink in the Bluebell Pub (a pub not far from where I live) and that his wife, who was also a doctor, had worked in my GP's surgery.
He then said that he would do his best to make sure that I wouldn't suffer any nausea.
Yesterday I mentioned that I didn't really like the anaesthetist, well I was now warming to him as he was quite humorous and was putting me at ease.
Kermit popped over to say hello and asked if I had any objections to them taking photographs during the operation. He reassured me that it would just be of the hip area and that it was for training purposes only. I said I was happy with that.
I was wheeled into the anaesthetic room at 12.55pm and as usually the anaesthetist had difficulty in finding a suitable vein.
I liked the way they put me out. It was a gradual process, with lots of jokes from the anaesthetist and his assistant about alcohol, and I never even noticed that I was going to sleep.
The next thing I knew I was in the recovery room. I can vaguely remember being asked to wiggle my toes and that Kermit telling me that the operation had gone well.
It was only when I woke up a bit more did the pain hit me. Not in my hip as you might expect, but in my left knee. The recovery nurse pointed out that I had an IV morphine drip so I could press the buzzer and it would give me some pain relief. It became my new best friend !!!
I glanced at the clock and it was 7.30pm. The next time I looked it was 8.10pm and a nurse from Intensive Care had come to take me to the ward.
Unbeknown to me John had arrived at the ICU just after 6pm so had been waiting a while. Once I had been made comfortable in the High Dependency Unit of ICU and connected to various bits of machinery, the nurses allowed John to come and see me at 8.45pm. Unlike normal wards where visitors can go straight in to see the patients, ICU visitors are made to wait in a room and are then called into see the patients.
John stayed for half an hour. He wanted to stay longer but I wouldn't let him. I was concerned that he hadn't had anything to eat. However he wanted to stay as he was concerned about me. Reluctantly he agreed to go home but not before I reassured him that I was ok. I had had a drink of water and kept that down so it was looking promising that I wasn't going to be sick.
Because I was taking morphine I had to be on oxygen. I hate wearing an oxygen mask so one of the nurses swapped it for a nasal tube which was much better.
Attached to one of the bars at the bottom of my bed was a catheter bag. I'd never had one of them fitted before and it was really weird seeing your wee slowly filling the bag. There was also a strange feeling 'down below' whenever the catheter tube was moved. It was like going the sensation of weeing but with nothing coming out.
The staff in intensive care were brilliant. There was at least one nurse to every two patients and that soon became six nurses in a four patient ward. Never was the ward without a nurse so you didn't have to buzz and wait for anything.
About 10.30pm I was feeling a little hungry so was asked if I'd like some ice cream. It had come straight from the freezer so was solid (just how I like my ice cream). It took ages to eat but it was lovely, and the best bit, I didn't throw up. Yippee !!!!
Several doctors and nurse practitioners came to see me throughout the night but it was just to check that I was ok and not in severe pain.
During the operation I had a central line put into my neck. It was like a Venflon IV drip in the hand, only bigger, and had several drip lines connected to it. It was put in because of my terrible veins and that I may have to have several IV drips going on at any one time. It was rather uncomfortable as there were five drip tubes dangling from it.
Before the central line could be used an x-ray had to be taken to make sure it was in the correct position. This should have been done in theatre but wasn't, which didn't go down well with the staff on the ward.
A telephone call was made to the x-ray department and half an hour later two radiographers and a portable x-ray machine arrived.
Just before midnight one of the nurses asked if I would like to get freshened up. My left leg was completely covered in orange antiseptic, so too where my theatre gown and bed sheets. I said yes, expecting to be given a bowl to do it myself. Two nurses pulled closed my bed screens and started to give me a full pampered bed bath. It was lovely.
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