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…

1 comment:

  1. Gosh! Forgotten about the WVRS! I used to give them my old books when I was a kid.

    I know what you mean about that bloody woman. There was someone like her on the bus the other day whinging on and on about her leg, rubbin it with one hand and clutching her fags with another!

    Good old mum's eh? Mine would have said something like that xx


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