Friday 23rd October 2009
Slept pretty well up until 2am when I was woken to have my obs taken. I thought they had stopped taking them. I couldn’t get back to sleep so put on my MP3 player and listened to one of my audio books. I was so glad I had them as there was nothing worse than twiddling your thumbs and starting at the ceiling when you can’t sleep.
Am still on the stronger antibiotics, and will be until Sunday. Thankfully there has been no side-effects which is good news.
Kermit came and said that my protein levels were low.
“It’s common for patients who have been in hospital a long time to have low protein levels”, he said trying to reassure me, “however you need to eat more as it will help your healing”.
I said I’d try but it was hard as the food wasn’t very nice.
“I’m sure I could manage to eat steak and chips”, I said.
“I don’t think the dietician will be able to arrange that”, he laughed.
“What about a Big Mac then”,
Sister Clarke pulled a face.
“That’s far better than the food I’m getting here”, I said.
It’s no wonder my protein levels are low. If they fed me decent food, there wouldn’t be a problem. ½ of an egg, which was so small it looked like a quails egg, didn’t constitute an egg salad…
Yesterday my lunch and dinner consisted of crackers and cheese. That was all they had put on the trolley for me. At lunch today there wasn’t anything for me so one of the nurses had to go down to the canteen to get me – surprise, surprise – a jacket potatoes.
Doctor Miska called in to say hello. I mentioned that my wound was leaking a little.
“It’ll be just left over fluid from the drain”, he said.
I wasn’t convinced so got told off for not being positive.
“How can I be positive when there’s been so many setbacks”, I replied.
“Be positive”, he reiterated, “and you’ll be home on Wednesday”.
“Oh, yeah”, I laughed, “tell you what, we’ll have a bet. I bet you a tube of smarties that I’m still here on Thursday”.
“I’m not a betting person”, he said.
“You’re just saying that because you’re frightened to loose”, I smiled.
Tracey, one of the domestics, came into my room.
“She won’t look on the positive side”, Miska said to her.
“I know it’s hard but you’ve got to”, she said.
“When you look on the black side of things you can never be disappointed”, I replied.
They both realised that no matter what they said I wasn’t going to change my outlook.
Young Natalie, the student nurse, came to say goodbye as she had finished her five weeks training on the ward. She gave me a big hug. I’m going to miss you and Mary she said.
Andrew, the microbiologist, called in to see me. He was pleased that the new batch of germs they had taken from my last washout hadn’t grown. He asked if I was still happy being in the side ward. I replied that I was, but that the room could do with a bit of a clean, and showed him the dust and debris behind my locker and under my bed. He said he’s have a word with the nurses but only to say that the room could do with a bit of a freshening up.
While my mam was visiting Doctor Richard called to see how I was doing. He explained that they were going to leave me on the antibiotics a day longer than expected so I should be finished them on Monday. I told him that my wound was still leaking.
“Don’t worry about it”, he said, “it’s probably left over from the drain”.
Looks like both him and Miska were singing from the same Hymn sheet…
I asked what would happen if it continued to leak. He shrugged his shoulders.
“It may mean that there are still some bone fragments in there”, he said, trying to think of a reason
“Not another washout”, I cried.
He changed the subject quickly and mentioned why I needed to have four units of blood recently.
“Your blood pressure when down to 68”, he said.
Even for me that was low.
My mam asked him why that could have happened. He replied that there was a lot of blood loss during the washout and because of the infection.
“I take there was a lot of infection”.
“Oh yes,” he said, “it ate everything in it’s path – bone, muscle, even the metal. It was quite a mess in there…”.
My feeling sick talking about food was back again. It must be my body’s reaction to all the jacket potatoes I had been having as I was pretty fed up with them. Even the thought of fish and chips tonight didn’t make me feel any better. I asked my mam if she could bring some sandwiches in with her tomorrow.
A little later the dinner trolley arrived.
“Marie”, asked one of the nurses, “would you like fish and chips or your jacket potatoes and salad”.
“Fish pleased”, I replied.
“Can I have your salad”, shouted Mary, “as I fancy a salad for a change”.
“Be my guest”, I replied.
John arrived that evening with some good news. Gordon the tattooed engineer had installed the stair lifts. Yippee !!!!!!!!
Friday 30 April 2010
Thursday 29 April 2010
Day 44 – This and that
Thursday 22nd October 2009
Finally managed to get a little bit of sleep.
Had to have another line removed from my hand as it became extremely swollen and sore. I still had a full bag of glucose, potassium and some antibiotics to take so was waiting for an anaesthetist to come from either ICU or A&E to put another line in. Where, I don’t know, as my poor hands are shot to bits….
Having waiting several hours for an anaesthetist, Doctor Zara decided enough was enough so put a line in at 6.45am. Given the state of my hands I thought she did really well to find a suitable vein.
Doctor Miska (the Russian doctor) popped in to say hello and was impressed when he found out that Zara had managed to put a line in. He’s really sweet and I enjoy having a laugh with him. The other day he came to take some blood and said the usual ‘you’ll just feel a scratch’. I told him I was sick of people saying ‘just a scratch’ when it was nothing like a scratch. On his second try (it took three goes to get some blood) he said ‘you’ll feel a little poke’….
Kermit came, as usual just after breakfast, and commented that I looked much better, with a lot more colour in my cheeks. Everyone had been saying that, yet when I looked in the mirror I couldn’t see any difference. He said the drain can come out later today and that I was to have another blood test and, if that showed I was fine, then I could slowly get up.
“What happens if the test isn’t ok”, I asked.
“We’ll have to give you another couple of units of blood”, he said.
I kept my fingers crossed the sample would be ok as I didn’t want to be wire for sound again.
I was still weeing for England as Kermit was concerned that I may become dehydrated. Thankfully I was rather thirsty so didn’t mind drinking. The nurses didn’t seem to mind me keep buzzing them nearly every hour for a bed pan.
Doctor Miska called in again so I switched off my radio, which is what I do whenever anyone comes into my room as I think it’s bad mannered not to.
“Don’t turn it off on my account”, he said, switching it back on, “what station are you listening to”.
“Radio 2”, I said.
“I like Radio 2”, he replied, “Terry Wogan is good. I like Jeremy Vine also”.
He then explained that my blood sample had come back ok so I didn’t need another transfusion.
“Happy with that”, he smiled.
“Oh yes”, I said.
He didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave so we started chatting.
“Which part of Russia are you from”, I asked.
“I’m from the Ukraine”, he said.
“You always seem to do well in Eurovision”, I said.
“I only started watching it when I came to the UK. I never saw it back home”.
We chatted for a while about the wired and wonderful things of Eurovision.
A little later Sister Clarke popped her head around the door.
“Hello Marie”, she said, “how’s the tiger coming along”.
“Slowly Sister”, I replied, showing her my cross stitch.
“You can’t leave until it’s finished”, she laughed.
“Please don’t say that”, I pleaded, “or I’ll never get out !!!”.
Once again I was wired for sound as Christa had hooked me to a new batch of antibiotics.
“They’re very strong”, she said, “so if you feel ‘funny’ in any way, buzz or yell for help”.
Thankfully they passed through ok.
John arrived that evening with some good news. Having measured up yesterday, the stair lift company will be installing it early next week. Yippee !!!!
Mary called in for a chat after the visitors had gone and was there until after 11pm. Her consultant was pleased with her progress but she was a little upset that she would have to be on antibiotics for life. I explained that the consequences of getting an infection in a metal joint wasn’t funny, so it was a small price to pay.
Doctor Zara, who was working nights, popped into see me and was surprised to find Mary there. She asked how I was feeling.
“Fine”, I replied.
Staff nurse Dolores who had just finished taking our obs, made Zara aware that my blood pressure was low.
“102”, laughed Zara, “that’s high for Marie”.
Finally managed to get a little bit of sleep.
Had to have another line removed from my hand as it became extremely swollen and sore. I still had a full bag of glucose, potassium and some antibiotics to take so was waiting for an anaesthetist to come from either ICU or A&E to put another line in. Where, I don’t know, as my poor hands are shot to bits….
Having waiting several hours for an anaesthetist, Doctor Zara decided enough was enough so put a line in at 6.45am. Given the state of my hands I thought she did really well to find a suitable vein.
Doctor Miska (the Russian doctor) popped in to say hello and was impressed when he found out that Zara had managed to put a line in. He’s really sweet and I enjoy having a laugh with him. The other day he came to take some blood and said the usual ‘you’ll just feel a scratch’. I told him I was sick of people saying ‘just a scratch’ when it was nothing like a scratch. On his second try (it took three goes to get some blood) he said ‘you’ll feel a little poke’….
Kermit came, as usual just after breakfast, and commented that I looked much better, with a lot more colour in my cheeks. Everyone had been saying that, yet when I looked in the mirror I couldn’t see any difference. He said the drain can come out later today and that I was to have another blood test and, if that showed I was fine, then I could slowly get up.
“What happens if the test isn’t ok”, I asked.
“We’ll have to give you another couple of units of blood”, he said.
I kept my fingers crossed the sample would be ok as I didn’t want to be wire for sound again.
I was still weeing for England as Kermit was concerned that I may become dehydrated. Thankfully I was rather thirsty so didn’t mind drinking. The nurses didn’t seem to mind me keep buzzing them nearly every hour for a bed pan.
Doctor Miska called in again so I switched off my radio, which is what I do whenever anyone comes into my room as I think it’s bad mannered not to.
“Don’t turn it off on my account”, he said, switching it back on, “what station are you listening to”.
“Radio 2”, I said.
“I like Radio 2”, he replied, “Terry Wogan is good. I like Jeremy Vine also”.
He then explained that my blood sample had come back ok so I didn’t need another transfusion.
“Happy with that”, he smiled.
“Oh yes”, I said.
He didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave so we started chatting.
“Which part of Russia are you from”, I asked.
“I’m from the Ukraine”, he said.
“You always seem to do well in Eurovision”, I said.
“I only started watching it when I came to the UK. I never saw it back home”.
We chatted for a while about the wired and wonderful things of Eurovision.
A little later Sister Clarke popped her head around the door.
“Hello Marie”, she said, “how’s the tiger coming along”.
“Slowly Sister”, I replied, showing her my cross stitch.
“You can’t leave until it’s finished”, she laughed.
“Please don’t say that”, I pleaded, “or I’ll never get out !!!”.
Once again I was wired for sound as Christa had hooked me to a new batch of antibiotics.
“They’re very strong”, she said, “so if you feel ‘funny’ in any way, buzz or yell for help”.
Thankfully they passed through ok.
John arrived that evening with some good news. Having measured up yesterday, the stair lift company will be installing it early next week. Yippee !!!!
Mary called in for a chat after the visitors had gone and was there until after 11pm. Her consultant was pleased with her progress but she was a little upset that she would have to be on antibiotics for life. I explained that the consequences of getting an infection in a metal joint wasn’t funny, so it was a small price to pay.
Doctor Zara, who was working nights, popped into see me and was surprised to find Mary there. She asked how I was feeling.
“Fine”, I replied.
Staff nurse Dolores who had just finished taking our obs, made Zara aware that my blood pressure was low.
“102”, laughed Zara, “that’s high for Marie”.
Wednesday 28 April 2010
Day 43 – A complete oil change
Wednesday 21st October 2009
I was about to take a bite out of my breakfast sausage sandwich when Kermit came. Because my blood pressure was still very low I had had to remain lying flat. Eating bran flakes wasn’t a good idea so had to have a sausage sandwich. I was rather glad Kermit came when he did as I now had an excuse to leave it – it was horrible !!!!
Kermit looked at my blood drainage bottle and told nurse Sarah that he wanted the drain removed and a theatre suction one put in its place. He then explained that the infection had eaten away all the muscle in and around my hip so I now had a huge cavity.
“Muscle acts like a sponge”, he continued, “so with you not having any left, there isn’t anything to absorb the residue liquid”.
“There was no sign of any infection in the wound”, he added, “which is some good news”.
I asked what would happen if the wound continued leaking. He explained that an ultra scan would be taken of the cavity then a drain would be fitted.
“Will there be anymore trips to the woodshed”, I asked.
“I don’t think so”, he smiled.
As I was still having problems with one of my lines young Natalie came to have a look at it. She squeezed it and I yelled out in pain. It was so bad that it brought tears to my eyes. She went to get nurse Lisa, who did the same as Natalie, and I gave her the same reply….
“The veins gone”, said Lisa, “so the line will have to come out”,
I wasn’t amused as I had mentioned to Wilma last night that the vein looked like it had collapsed but she continued to use the line.
I had to have yet another two units of blood (that would make a complete ‘oil’ change…) later that morning as my blood pressure was still very low, and apparently, I was looking very pale. I’d only had one unit of blood when the line had to be taken out of my hand as it had become very sore and swollen.
Kermit was informed and he was not amused as I still had another unit of blood and a bag of antibiotics to have. He put a call through to A&E asking for an anaesthetist to come and put another line in.
Once again I was wired for sound in both hands, which made having a bed pan a little difficult. Kermit had issued orders that the nurses had to keep an eye my fluid level as I must drink more than I was weeing. I spent most of the day on a bed pan….
I was about to take a bite out of my breakfast sausage sandwich when Kermit came. Because my blood pressure was still very low I had had to remain lying flat. Eating bran flakes wasn’t a good idea so had to have a sausage sandwich. I was rather glad Kermit came when he did as I now had an excuse to leave it – it was horrible !!!!
Kermit looked at my blood drainage bottle and told nurse Sarah that he wanted the drain removed and a theatre suction one put in its place. He then explained that the infection had eaten away all the muscle in and around my hip so I now had a huge cavity.
“Muscle acts like a sponge”, he continued, “so with you not having any left, there isn’t anything to absorb the residue liquid”.
“There was no sign of any infection in the wound”, he added, “which is some good news”.
I asked what would happen if the wound continued leaking. He explained that an ultra scan would be taken of the cavity then a drain would be fitted.
“Will there be anymore trips to the woodshed”, I asked.
“I don’t think so”, he smiled.
As I was still having problems with one of my lines young Natalie came to have a look at it. She squeezed it and I yelled out in pain. It was so bad that it brought tears to my eyes. She went to get nurse Lisa, who did the same as Natalie, and I gave her the same reply….
“The veins gone”, said Lisa, “so the line will have to come out”,
I wasn’t amused as I had mentioned to Wilma last night that the vein looked like it had collapsed but she continued to use the line.
I had to have yet another two units of blood (that would make a complete ‘oil’ change…) later that morning as my blood pressure was still very low, and apparently, I was looking very pale. I’d only had one unit of blood when the line had to be taken out of my hand as it had become very sore and swollen.
Kermit was informed and he was not amused as I still had another unit of blood and a bag of antibiotics to have. He put a call through to A&E asking for an anaesthetist to come and put another line in.
Once again I was wired for sound in both hands, which made having a bed pan a little difficult. Kermit had issued orders that the nurses had to keep an eye my fluid level as I must drink more than I was weeing. I spent most of the day on a bed pan….
Tuesday 27 April 2010
Day 42 – Third trip to the woodshed
Tuesday 20th October 2009
Kermit came to see me early that morning to say my op was definitely on for today. I am to have another central line put in as Andrew, the Microbiologist, wants to give me some more IV antibiotics.
“It’s because your veins are rubbish”, he said.
Although the central line was rather annoying, it did make sense. However it would mean more ‘vampire’ bites and sleeping upright for several days. Hopefully the line wouldn’t be in for too long.
Doctor Zara called in with my operation consent forms. I told her what my sister had said yesterday about her colleagues mother. She thought that was so funny.
“You’ve made my day”, she laughed.
I wasn’t able to take any painkillers that morning due to being ‘nil by mouth’ so I was in a little discomfort. I was allowed to drink water until 6am, however Sister didn’t come around with my painkillers until 6.30am.
“Here’s your painkillers”, said Sister.
“I can’t have them as they have to be taken with lots of water”, I explained, “that’s why I asked you last night if I could have them at 6am”.
Sister had a blank look on her face. Typical….
The men’s ward opposite my side room was full, and there was a man who not only liked to be the centre of attention, but loved the sound of his own voice. He was pretty vocal at 6.30am. Sister gave him some evil looks.
“He’s been like that all night”, I said.
“He won’t be tonight”, she replied, “as I’ll be having words with him…”.
I overheard nurse Tracy having a chat with my social working that morning. Tracy explained that I was having another washout this morning and that, sadly, it was a major set back.
“….oh, she took it really well”, explained Tracy, “and she’s well within herself”.
I wondered if I would be ‘well within myself’ if my wound didn’t stop oozing….
Just after 11am, there was a tap on my door. I looked up from my cross stitching and saw a man and a women, who I guessed were the anaesthetists.
“Are you Mrs Harper”, the man asked.
“That’s me”, I replied.
“Are you sure”, he asked.
“Positive”, I said, a bit puzzled.
“Forgive me”, he said, “I’m the anaesthetist for your operation and this is my colleague who will be assisting me”.
I smiled a hello.
“I didn’t think I had the right room”, he continued, “Normally patients going down to theatre are very quiet, yet you are so cheerful and happy. I can’t believe that you are sewing as patients usually just sit and stare at the clock”.
“I’m not your normal patient”, I smiled.
He asked if I had any questions about going down to theatre. I explained about the problems I had had in the past with throwing up.
“Don’t worry”, he replied, “I know all about that. Normally I say to patients there will be a 200% chance that they won’t be sick. For you I’ll say it’ll be 199.99999%”.
I mentioned about the problems of my veins disappearing.
He thanked me for that then said, “but you shouldn’t be worrying about that. That’s my job”.
The theatre porter arrived at 10.30am, so to did the dietician.
“Can I have a chat with you”, she asked.
“I’m just about to go down to theatre”, I replied, putting away my cross stitch.
“So how are the new meals going”, she asked, taking no notice of what I had just said.
“They’re ok”, I said, taking off my slipper.
“How are you liking the cheese board”, asked the dietician.
“You don’t need to get into bed, just on it”, said the porter who had come back into my room.
“Thanks”, I replied, getting on the bed, “the cheese is fine. I’m about to go down to theatre now. Could you come back tomorrow”.
The dietician sat down on the chair, “I’d like to go through your menu plan”, she said, flicking through her notes.
“This really isn’t a good time”, I stressed.
“Would you like me to arrange some curries for you”, she continued.
Lisa, one of the staff nurses came into my room, “has anyone gone through the theatre check-list with you”.
“No”, I replied.
Lisa went away to get the various forms.
“If you could have a look at the menus sheets and let me know what kind of curries you would like”, said the dietician, thrusting the two weekly menu sheets into my hand.
The theatre porter was standing at the door. I looked at him in bewilderment. He just smiled.
Lisa arrived back with the forms and asked the dietician if she could sit on the chair.
“Of course”, she said, “I’ll let you finish, then I’ll come back”.
Lisa quickly went through the various theatre questions – did I have any dentures, crowns etc. She noticed that I didn’t have any tape on my wedding ring so went off to find some.
The dietician was sitting waiting at the nurses station, She asked, “have you decided on what curries you would like”, as the porter and Claire, the bank auxiliary nurse who was going to escort me down to theatre, started to manoeuvre my bed out of the side room.
I ignored her….
We must have been running late as one of the theatre technicians was standing outside the theatre door anxiously waiting for us.
Claire handed over my notes to the anaesthetist. As soon as Claire had left the room the anaesthetist whispered into my ear how he thought she looked like ‘Pebbles’ from The Flintstones, with her hair in such a high ponytail.
“Hello again”, said a voice. It was the anaesthetist assistant from my first trip to the woodshed.
“I liked it so much, I thought I’d come back for a third visit”, I joked.
When I was in the prep-room the anaesthetist announced that he was going to overrule Kermit and not put in a central line.
“It’s a major procedure to do”, he said, “and I don’t want to put you through anything that is unnecessary”.
“Won’t Mr Green mind”, I asked.
“I’m in charge”, he smiled.
He then put the line into my hand and I thanked him as it didn’t really hurt and mentioned he was better than the last anaesthetist. He was really pleased about that and said that he would look through my notes to find who it was the last time and taunt him….
I woke up in the recovery room at 1.40pm and my hip was really hurting. Thankfully I’d been given the morphine pressy thing again so gave that a good press.
The anaesthetist came over and said hello. He told the recovery nursing staff what a lovely, cheery patient I was. I really didn’t know why but I became quite emotional. I felt so embarrassed. The anaesthetist grabbed a tissue and started to wipe away my tears.
Jackie, the recovery nurse who came to see me last time, gave me a big hug and said what I was experiencing was quite normal following an anaesthetic. It was similar to a really bad hormonal time of the month. Another recovery nurse came and held my hand. I felt so silly.
Even Christa, one of the nurses from the ward who had come to collect me, and who isn’t known for giving out sympathy, gave me a cuddle.
When I arrived back on to the ward Natalie, the young student nurse, popped in to see if I was ok. She could see that I was a little upset so came back once Christa had made me comfortable. I explained to Natalie that I was feeling a little emotional so she gave me a hug and told me not to worry about it. Word must have got back to all the nurses as everyone came into my room and gave me a hug.
As my blood pressure was on the low side – even lower than normal – Christa took some blood samples as she wanted to arrange an emergency test to see if I needed a blood transfusion. The sample came back low so two units of blood were ordered.
Because I didn’t have a central line, I was going to have a line put into my other hand as the one that was already there was being used for the morphine pain relief.
When I was in the theatre prep-room the anaesthetist had said in future if I needed any lines putting in, they must be put in by an anaesthetist, as they were skilled in dealing with problem veins. I relayed this back to the nurses and I was astounded that they actually took notice of what I said. An anaesthetist from ICU arrived within half an hour of them putting the call out.
I was so tired, yet there was no way I would be getting any sleep. I was wired for sound in both hand; my blood pressure had to be taken every ½ hour; the men in their bay were extremely noisy.
On top of all that my feet had been put into machine operated inflatable ankle pads which noisily inflated and de-flatted every 30 seconds. This, apparently, was to stop blood clots and was to remain in place for at least 24 hours. The machine later developed a fault so every three minutes it would emit a screeching bleeping noise. The night shift nurses got sick of coming back into my room every three minutes to re-set the machine so just left it bleeping. At 12.45am I couldn’t stand the noise any longer so buzzed one of the nurses and asked that they either remove the machine or replace it.
Wilma, the night-shit staff nurse who seemed to spend most of her time being very moody, came to flush out one of the lines in my hand. She flushed saline through the line too quickly and I yelled out in agony.
“Did that hurt”, she asked.
“No”, I replied, “I just felt like screaming”.
Stupid woman….
Kermit came to see me early that morning to say my op was definitely on for today. I am to have another central line put in as Andrew, the Microbiologist, wants to give me some more IV antibiotics.
“It’s because your veins are rubbish”, he said.
Although the central line was rather annoying, it did make sense. However it would mean more ‘vampire’ bites and sleeping upright for several days. Hopefully the line wouldn’t be in for too long.
Doctor Zara called in with my operation consent forms. I told her what my sister had said yesterday about her colleagues mother. She thought that was so funny.
“You’ve made my day”, she laughed.
I wasn’t able to take any painkillers that morning due to being ‘nil by mouth’ so I was in a little discomfort. I was allowed to drink water until 6am, however Sister didn’t come around with my painkillers until 6.30am.
“Here’s your painkillers”, said Sister.
“I can’t have them as they have to be taken with lots of water”, I explained, “that’s why I asked you last night if I could have them at 6am”.
Sister had a blank look on her face. Typical….
The men’s ward opposite my side room was full, and there was a man who not only liked to be the centre of attention, but loved the sound of his own voice. He was pretty vocal at 6.30am. Sister gave him some evil looks.
“He’s been like that all night”, I said.
“He won’t be tonight”, she replied, “as I’ll be having words with him…”.
I overheard nurse Tracy having a chat with my social working that morning. Tracy explained that I was having another washout this morning and that, sadly, it was a major set back.
“….oh, she took it really well”, explained Tracy, “and she’s well within herself”.
I wondered if I would be ‘well within myself’ if my wound didn’t stop oozing….
Just after 11am, there was a tap on my door. I looked up from my cross stitching and saw a man and a women, who I guessed were the anaesthetists.
“Are you Mrs Harper”, the man asked.
“That’s me”, I replied.
“Are you sure”, he asked.
“Positive”, I said, a bit puzzled.
“Forgive me”, he said, “I’m the anaesthetist for your operation and this is my colleague who will be assisting me”.
I smiled a hello.
“I didn’t think I had the right room”, he continued, “Normally patients going down to theatre are very quiet, yet you are so cheerful and happy. I can’t believe that you are sewing as patients usually just sit and stare at the clock”.
“I’m not your normal patient”, I smiled.
He asked if I had any questions about going down to theatre. I explained about the problems I had had in the past with throwing up.
“Don’t worry”, he replied, “I know all about that. Normally I say to patients there will be a 200% chance that they won’t be sick. For you I’ll say it’ll be 199.99999%”.
I mentioned about the problems of my veins disappearing.
He thanked me for that then said, “but you shouldn’t be worrying about that. That’s my job”.
The theatre porter arrived at 10.30am, so to did the dietician.
“Can I have a chat with you”, she asked.
“I’m just about to go down to theatre”, I replied, putting away my cross stitch.
“So how are the new meals going”, she asked, taking no notice of what I had just said.
“They’re ok”, I said, taking off my slipper.
“How are you liking the cheese board”, asked the dietician.
“You don’t need to get into bed, just on it”, said the porter who had come back into my room.
“Thanks”, I replied, getting on the bed, “the cheese is fine. I’m about to go down to theatre now. Could you come back tomorrow”.
The dietician sat down on the chair, “I’d like to go through your menu plan”, she said, flicking through her notes.
“This really isn’t a good time”, I stressed.
“Would you like me to arrange some curries for you”, she continued.
Lisa, one of the staff nurses came into my room, “has anyone gone through the theatre check-list with you”.
“No”, I replied.
Lisa went away to get the various forms.
“If you could have a look at the menus sheets and let me know what kind of curries you would like”, said the dietician, thrusting the two weekly menu sheets into my hand.
The theatre porter was standing at the door. I looked at him in bewilderment. He just smiled.
Lisa arrived back with the forms and asked the dietician if she could sit on the chair.
“Of course”, she said, “I’ll let you finish, then I’ll come back”.
Lisa quickly went through the various theatre questions – did I have any dentures, crowns etc. She noticed that I didn’t have any tape on my wedding ring so went off to find some.
The dietician was sitting waiting at the nurses station, She asked, “have you decided on what curries you would like”, as the porter and Claire, the bank auxiliary nurse who was going to escort me down to theatre, started to manoeuvre my bed out of the side room.
I ignored her….
We must have been running late as one of the theatre technicians was standing outside the theatre door anxiously waiting for us.
Claire handed over my notes to the anaesthetist. As soon as Claire had left the room the anaesthetist whispered into my ear how he thought she looked like ‘Pebbles’ from The Flintstones, with her hair in such a high ponytail.
“Hello again”, said a voice. It was the anaesthetist assistant from my first trip to the woodshed.
“I liked it so much, I thought I’d come back for a third visit”, I joked.
When I was in the prep-room the anaesthetist announced that he was going to overrule Kermit and not put in a central line.
“It’s a major procedure to do”, he said, “and I don’t want to put you through anything that is unnecessary”.
“Won’t Mr Green mind”, I asked.
“I’m in charge”, he smiled.
He then put the line into my hand and I thanked him as it didn’t really hurt and mentioned he was better than the last anaesthetist. He was really pleased about that and said that he would look through my notes to find who it was the last time and taunt him….
I woke up in the recovery room at 1.40pm and my hip was really hurting. Thankfully I’d been given the morphine pressy thing again so gave that a good press.
The anaesthetist came over and said hello. He told the recovery nursing staff what a lovely, cheery patient I was. I really didn’t know why but I became quite emotional. I felt so embarrassed. The anaesthetist grabbed a tissue and started to wipe away my tears.
Jackie, the recovery nurse who came to see me last time, gave me a big hug and said what I was experiencing was quite normal following an anaesthetic. It was similar to a really bad hormonal time of the month. Another recovery nurse came and held my hand. I felt so silly.
Even Christa, one of the nurses from the ward who had come to collect me, and who isn’t known for giving out sympathy, gave me a cuddle.
When I arrived back on to the ward Natalie, the young student nurse, popped in to see if I was ok. She could see that I was a little upset so came back once Christa had made me comfortable. I explained to Natalie that I was feeling a little emotional so she gave me a hug and told me not to worry about it. Word must have got back to all the nurses as everyone came into my room and gave me a hug.
As my blood pressure was on the low side – even lower than normal – Christa took some blood samples as she wanted to arrange an emergency test to see if I needed a blood transfusion. The sample came back low so two units of blood were ordered.
Because I didn’t have a central line, I was going to have a line put into my other hand as the one that was already there was being used for the morphine pain relief.
When I was in the theatre prep-room the anaesthetist had said in future if I needed any lines putting in, they must be put in by an anaesthetist, as they were skilled in dealing with problem veins. I relayed this back to the nurses and I was astounded that they actually took notice of what I said. An anaesthetist from ICU arrived within half an hour of them putting the call out.
I was so tired, yet there was no way I would be getting any sleep. I was wired for sound in both hand; my blood pressure had to be taken every ½ hour; the men in their bay were extremely noisy.
On top of all that my feet had been put into machine operated inflatable ankle pads which noisily inflated and de-flatted every 30 seconds. This, apparently, was to stop blood clots and was to remain in place for at least 24 hours. The machine later developed a fault so every three minutes it would emit a screeching bleeping noise. The night shift nurses got sick of coming back into my room every three minutes to re-set the machine so just left it bleeping. At 12.45am I couldn’t stand the noise any longer so buzzed one of the nurses and asked that they either remove the machine or replace it.
Wilma, the night-shit staff nurse who seemed to spend most of her time being very moody, came to flush out one of the lines in my hand. She flushed saline through the line too quickly and I yelled out in agony.
“Did that hurt”, she asked.
“No”, I replied, “I just felt like screaming”.
Stupid woman….
Monday 26 April 2010
Day 41 – What a carry on
Monday 19th October 2009
My wound was still leaking like there was no tomorrow. Bummer !!!!
I was sick this morning shortly after taking my antibiotics. The past few days I had been feeling queasy about ten minutes after taking them, but this was the very first time I had actually been sick. I pressed the buzzer for a bowl, but no one came, so just used yesterdays paper to be sick in to. Thankfully the mess wasn’t that much so I just cleaned it up myself. My buzzer had been going for 10 minutes and no one came so I just switched it off.
I called into see Arthur that morning. He thanked me for arranging his cup of coffee.
“You must have a lot of respect on the ward as I didn’t think the nurses gave patients refreshments”, he commented.
“When you’ve been here for over five weeks you come to know the nurses very well”, I replied.
Called into see Mary a couple of times during the day as she was still on bed rest. Officially I was only allowed to be up on my feet twice a day but the nurses and physico’s were turning a blind eye to my extra trips to see Mary.
I could hear the sound of the ‘blood trolley’ coming along the corridor, and I knew it was heading my way. It was lovely nurse Anna’s turn to do the dreaded deed. She’d seen on my notes that I needed a particular blood sample to be taken on Monday so asked if she could do it. Knowing the state of my arms, I was very surprised she actually volunteered to do it. I’m sure the rest of the nurses would have breathed a sigh of relief !!
I could honestly say that I never felt a thing. She found a vein straight away and got blood out first time.
“Can you take blood from me all the time”, I asked.
Anna just smiled, “the trick is use a child’s needle. When veins are deep, and as thin as yours, adult needles are no good. That’s why it didn’t hurt”.
I will remember that in future.
Louise, one of the auxiliary nurses, popped her head round the door and asked if I would like a bowl to get washed in.
“Yes pleased as I can’t go into the shower,” I replied, pointing to my blood saturated dressing, “and could I have my hair washed as well.
“No problem”, she said.
She came back a little later to wash my hair. I think this must have been the first time she had washed someone’s hair as she had water everywhere. The t-shirt I had put on five minutes previously was drenched so off that came to be put on the radiator to dry.
I must have had the second t-shirt on for about five minutes when I felt something wet on my leg. My wound was gushing out blood. I pressed the buzzer then used my hospital dressing gown as a pressure pad.
The plan had been to leave my dressing on until Kermit had been so he could see the extent of the leaking. However it was just too bloody to leave. Louise asked permission to change the dressing and keep it as evidence. This was granted.
It was like a scene from a Carry On Film. Louise was having difficulty in opening the sterile dressing packs using one hand, whilst the other was putting pressure on my wound to stop it gushing out. As she was struggling I offered to help.
“You can put pressure on your wound”, she suggested.
Easier said than done as I needed to use two hands to hold on to my zimmer for balance. I shuffled towards the sink and propped myself onto it, giving me a free hand.
Sister Clarke popped her head around the door. Kermit was due any minute.
“Bugger”, said Louise, who frantically tore open dressing packs and began sticking them onto my wound as quickly as she could. It wasn’t pretty….
Kermit gave me the news I had been expecting. Another trip to the woodshed. Apparently my blood samples were showing that things were slightly getting worse as the infection count had gone up.
“I’ll have a chat with Andrew the Microbiologist”, he said, “to see if we need to up your antibiotics”.
Up them!!! I was already taking 41 tablets a day.
My trip to the woodshed for a bigger washout would be schedule for tomorrow morning, unless an emergency came in.
Kermit was surprised as to how upbeat I was.
“What else can I do”, I replied, “moping and feeling sorry for myself won’t make any different. In fact it’ll just make things worse”.
I was a little annoyed though that ‘Him upstairs’, my Guardian Angel and St Jude weren’t helping. Mary, who was a Catholic, said He was listening to me. I wasn’t convinced.
After Kermit had left Louise removed the hastily put on dressing for a better one. It was still a bit like a Carry On Film as this time she was having problems opening the sterile water packet.
“I’ll go and get some scissors”, she said, then realised that if she left the room she would have to bin everything due to cross contamination.
I noticed that Norma was busy working at the nurses station.
“Norma”, shouted Louise.
“NORMA”, shouted Louise again.
I grabbed my walking stick and tapped on the window. Norma turned round. I gestured her to come into the room.
“Can you get me some scissors please”, pleaded Louise”, “I can’t open the water and if I leave I won’t be sterile anymore”.
Norma rolled her eyes as if to say ‘these youngsters’ then off she went to get some scissors.
Had a good chat with Mary that morning, then her consultant came to see her so I had to leave the room. Doctor Richard was standing outside Mary’s room so asked how I was getting on.
“I’ve won my bet”, I announced, “another trip to the woodshed tomorrow”.
I popped back to see Mary after lunch and she had a big grin on her face.
“He’s really pleased with me”, she said, especially after what she had told me a couple of days ago.
Sister Charlton who had been on a weeks leave, came into Mary’s room and give both of us a big hug.
“I’m really impressed that you’ve finally managed to cover yourself up - you Hussy”, she said, noticing that I was wearing my hospital dressing gown.
“I knew you were back today so I put it on”, I laughed, “I never wore it at all last week when you were off….”.
Andrew the Microbiologist came into Mary’s room looking for me.
“There you are”, he said, “can we pop back into your room for a chat”.
He explained that they might put me back onto IV antibiotics via another central line for a couple of days after my trip to the woodshed. It would all hinge on what they would find when the samples come back after my washout.
During afternoon visiting my mam and my sister Denise came to see me. They had been shopping in Newcastle. Denise mentioned that a work colleagues mother had had an infection in her hip replacement and died as a result of it.
“Thanks a lot…”, I said.
I got a mention on Chris Evan’s ‘Drive Time’ programme on Radio 2. I sent him a text asking if he could give me a mention as I was a bit fed up with being in hospital.
My wound was still leaking like there was no tomorrow. Bummer !!!!
I was sick this morning shortly after taking my antibiotics. The past few days I had been feeling queasy about ten minutes after taking them, but this was the very first time I had actually been sick. I pressed the buzzer for a bowl, but no one came, so just used yesterdays paper to be sick in to. Thankfully the mess wasn’t that much so I just cleaned it up myself. My buzzer had been going for 10 minutes and no one came so I just switched it off.
I called into see Arthur that morning. He thanked me for arranging his cup of coffee.
“You must have a lot of respect on the ward as I didn’t think the nurses gave patients refreshments”, he commented.
“When you’ve been here for over five weeks you come to know the nurses very well”, I replied.
Called into see Mary a couple of times during the day as she was still on bed rest. Officially I was only allowed to be up on my feet twice a day but the nurses and physico’s were turning a blind eye to my extra trips to see Mary.
I could hear the sound of the ‘blood trolley’ coming along the corridor, and I knew it was heading my way. It was lovely nurse Anna’s turn to do the dreaded deed. She’d seen on my notes that I needed a particular blood sample to be taken on Monday so asked if she could do it. Knowing the state of my arms, I was very surprised she actually volunteered to do it. I’m sure the rest of the nurses would have breathed a sigh of relief !!
I could honestly say that I never felt a thing. She found a vein straight away and got blood out first time.
“Can you take blood from me all the time”, I asked.
Anna just smiled, “the trick is use a child’s needle. When veins are deep, and as thin as yours, adult needles are no good. That’s why it didn’t hurt”.
I will remember that in future.
Louise, one of the auxiliary nurses, popped her head round the door and asked if I would like a bowl to get washed in.
“Yes pleased as I can’t go into the shower,” I replied, pointing to my blood saturated dressing, “and could I have my hair washed as well.
“No problem”, she said.
She came back a little later to wash my hair. I think this must have been the first time she had washed someone’s hair as she had water everywhere. The t-shirt I had put on five minutes previously was drenched so off that came to be put on the radiator to dry.
I must have had the second t-shirt on for about five minutes when I felt something wet on my leg. My wound was gushing out blood. I pressed the buzzer then used my hospital dressing gown as a pressure pad.
The plan had been to leave my dressing on until Kermit had been so he could see the extent of the leaking. However it was just too bloody to leave. Louise asked permission to change the dressing and keep it as evidence. This was granted.
It was like a scene from a Carry On Film. Louise was having difficulty in opening the sterile dressing packs using one hand, whilst the other was putting pressure on my wound to stop it gushing out. As she was struggling I offered to help.
“You can put pressure on your wound”, she suggested.
Easier said than done as I needed to use two hands to hold on to my zimmer for balance. I shuffled towards the sink and propped myself onto it, giving me a free hand.
Sister Clarke popped her head around the door. Kermit was due any minute.
“Bugger”, said Louise, who frantically tore open dressing packs and began sticking them onto my wound as quickly as she could. It wasn’t pretty….
Kermit gave me the news I had been expecting. Another trip to the woodshed. Apparently my blood samples were showing that things were slightly getting worse as the infection count had gone up.
“I’ll have a chat with Andrew the Microbiologist”, he said, “to see if we need to up your antibiotics”.
Up them!!! I was already taking 41 tablets a day.
My trip to the woodshed for a bigger washout would be schedule for tomorrow morning, unless an emergency came in.
Kermit was surprised as to how upbeat I was.
“What else can I do”, I replied, “moping and feeling sorry for myself won’t make any different. In fact it’ll just make things worse”.
I was a little annoyed though that ‘Him upstairs’, my Guardian Angel and St Jude weren’t helping. Mary, who was a Catholic, said He was listening to me. I wasn’t convinced.
After Kermit had left Louise removed the hastily put on dressing for a better one. It was still a bit like a Carry On Film as this time she was having problems opening the sterile water packet.
“I’ll go and get some scissors”, she said, then realised that if she left the room she would have to bin everything due to cross contamination.
I noticed that Norma was busy working at the nurses station.
“Norma”, shouted Louise.
“NORMA”, shouted Louise again.
I grabbed my walking stick and tapped on the window. Norma turned round. I gestured her to come into the room.
“Can you get me some scissors please”, pleaded Louise”, “I can’t open the water and if I leave I won’t be sterile anymore”.
Norma rolled her eyes as if to say ‘these youngsters’ then off she went to get some scissors.
Had a good chat with Mary that morning, then her consultant came to see her so I had to leave the room. Doctor Richard was standing outside Mary’s room so asked how I was getting on.
“I’ve won my bet”, I announced, “another trip to the woodshed tomorrow”.
I popped back to see Mary after lunch and she had a big grin on her face.
“He’s really pleased with me”, she said, especially after what she had told me a couple of days ago.
Sister Charlton who had been on a weeks leave, came into Mary’s room and give both of us a big hug.
“I’m really impressed that you’ve finally managed to cover yourself up - you Hussy”, she said, noticing that I was wearing my hospital dressing gown.
“I knew you were back today so I put it on”, I laughed, “I never wore it at all last week when you were off….”.
Andrew the Microbiologist came into Mary’s room looking for me.
“There you are”, he said, “can we pop back into your room for a chat”.
He explained that they might put me back onto IV antibiotics via another central line for a couple of days after my trip to the woodshed. It would all hinge on what they would find when the samples come back after my washout.
During afternoon visiting my mam and my sister Denise came to see me. They had been shopping in Newcastle. Denise mentioned that a work colleagues mother had had an infection in her hip replacement and died as a result of it.
“Thanks a lot…”, I said.
I got a mention on Chris Evan’s ‘Drive Time’ programme on Radio 2. I sent him a text asking if he could give me a mention as I was a bit fed up with being in hospital.
Sunday 25 April 2010
Day 40 – A new friend
Sunday 18th October 2009
I don’t believe it !!! When my dressing was finally changed last night at 8pm (had been waiting all day for it to be done), it was dry, so I wasn’t a happy bunny that it had started leaking again during the night.
The dressing was well and truly saturated so I told Kairen, the senior night nurse, to mention this when she did the day staff hand over.
It was looking more and more likely that a third trip to the woodshed would be necessary. My guess was it would be either Tuesday or Wednesday.
Had a chat with Mary just before afternoon visiting and she told me why she had been feeling down for the past few days. She had a few tears so I gave her a cuddle. She asked me to keep it a secret, which I said I would, and kept my fingers crossed that every thing would be fine.
John arrived that evening with a bag full of yummy contraband. He also gave me a package which had come in the post for me. It was from our friends Jenny and Chris. Inside the package was a lovely little toy cat. He was so cute, with huge big blue eyes, that I just had to call him Frank (after Frank Sinatra). John took a photo of me and Frank to put on our blog.
He had now become my hospital mascot and had pride of place sitting on top of my locker.
I don’t believe it !!! When my dressing was finally changed last night at 8pm (had been waiting all day for it to be done), it was dry, so I wasn’t a happy bunny that it had started leaking again during the night.
The dressing was well and truly saturated so I told Kairen, the senior night nurse, to mention this when she did the day staff hand over.
It was looking more and more likely that a third trip to the woodshed would be necessary. My guess was it would be either Tuesday or Wednesday.
Had a chat with Mary just before afternoon visiting and she told me why she had been feeling down for the past few days. She had a few tears so I gave her a cuddle. She asked me to keep it a secret, which I said I would, and kept my fingers crossed that every thing would be fine.
John arrived that evening with a bag full of yummy contraband. He also gave me a package which had come in the post for me. It was from our friends Jenny and Chris. Inside the package was a lovely little toy cat. He was so cute, with huge big blue eyes, that I just had to call him Frank (after Frank Sinatra). John took a photo of me and Frank to put on our blog.
He had now become my hospital mascot and had pride of place sitting on top of my locker.
Saturday 24 April 2010
Day 39 – So sad
Saturday 17th October 2009
My dressing looked like it was dry again so everyone was keeping their fingers crossed.
I was still on gentle exercise so was only allowed to make two walking trips to the loo. I was also allowed two visits to see Mary but only if I made them via going to the loo. As she was confined to quarters as well we hardly saw much of each other.
Felt sick again so had to have another bowl shortly after I had taken the antibiotics. Tomorrow I’ll try taking them with food instead of just after.
I added up all the tablets I was taking and it came to 41 per day !!!! That doesn’t include any extra painkillers I may need. No wonder I was feeling sick. They must have been all fighting with one another…
The nurses had moved Arthur into a side ward to give him a bit of privacy. They have also been bending the rules about visiting times so he had visitors most of the day.
The nurses were getting a little concerned about him as he didn’t seem to be grieving and they thought it hadn’t quite hit him about his wife yet.
I popped into say hello just after his evening visitors had left. We chatted about bits and pieces for a few minutes then he volunteered to tell me about his wife.
They had just come back from visiting their son in Canada. His wife had been ill for some time and he knew this would probably be the last time she saw him. He had wanted to cancel his operation but she wouldn’t let him. However the day he was admitted into hospital she became gravely ill and was taken to the QE hospital.
She was put straight on a life support machine but sadly there was no hope. The QE contacted the hospital and arrangements were made for him to go and say goodbye before they switched off the machine.
He explained that he thought the nurses would have wanted him to show some emotion, but he said he wasn’t that type of person, and never had been. He got a little upset when he thought that people would think he was a horrible man for not showing any grief towards his wife.
He was also very upset as they had made a pact that he would be the one to go first as she was able to take care of herself. He explained that he had no hobbies, he just enjoyed his wife’s company and didn’t know what he would all day without her. My heart really went out to him and it took a lot of effort to hold back the tears. We sat and chatted about how he could fill in his time and he promised he would give all my suggestions a try.
I couldn’t believe that I was there for over 1 ½ hours. When I was about to leave he asked if there would be another cup of coffee given out that evening. I replied that the last one was at 7pm, but I would ask one of the nurses if they could bring him one. He told me not to bother, but thanked me for the offer.
I saw nurse Aileen walking along the corridor and asked if she could sort out his cup of coffee. She was only too pleased to do so.
Mary was desperate to know what I’d managed to find out so I didn’t get back into my room until 11.30pm.
No sooner had I got myself into bed, Aileen came in and asked how Arthur was. The staff were concerned that he hadn’t opened up to anyone about his wife. I reassured her that Arthur was ok.
My dressing looked like it was dry again so everyone was keeping their fingers crossed.
I was still on gentle exercise so was only allowed to make two walking trips to the loo. I was also allowed two visits to see Mary but only if I made them via going to the loo. As she was confined to quarters as well we hardly saw much of each other.
Felt sick again so had to have another bowl shortly after I had taken the antibiotics. Tomorrow I’ll try taking them with food instead of just after.
I added up all the tablets I was taking and it came to 41 per day !!!! That doesn’t include any extra painkillers I may need. No wonder I was feeling sick. They must have been all fighting with one another…
The nurses had moved Arthur into a side ward to give him a bit of privacy. They have also been bending the rules about visiting times so he had visitors most of the day.
The nurses were getting a little concerned about him as he didn’t seem to be grieving and they thought it hadn’t quite hit him about his wife yet.
I popped into say hello just after his evening visitors had left. We chatted about bits and pieces for a few minutes then he volunteered to tell me about his wife.
They had just come back from visiting their son in Canada. His wife had been ill for some time and he knew this would probably be the last time she saw him. He had wanted to cancel his operation but she wouldn’t let him. However the day he was admitted into hospital she became gravely ill and was taken to the QE hospital.
She was put straight on a life support machine but sadly there was no hope. The QE contacted the hospital and arrangements were made for him to go and say goodbye before they switched off the machine.
He explained that he thought the nurses would have wanted him to show some emotion, but he said he wasn’t that type of person, and never had been. He got a little upset when he thought that people would think he was a horrible man for not showing any grief towards his wife.
He was also very upset as they had made a pact that he would be the one to go first as she was able to take care of herself. He explained that he had no hobbies, he just enjoyed his wife’s company and didn’t know what he would all day without her. My heart really went out to him and it took a lot of effort to hold back the tears. We sat and chatted about how he could fill in his time and he promised he would give all my suggestions a try.
I couldn’t believe that I was there for over 1 ½ hours. When I was about to leave he asked if there would be another cup of coffee given out that evening. I replied that the last one was at 7pm, but I would ask one of the nurses if they could bring him one. He told me not to bother, but thanked me for the offer.
I saw nurse Aileen walking along the corridor and asked if she could sort out his cup of coffee. She was only too pleased to do so.
Mary was desperate to know what I’d managed to find out so I didn’t get back into my room until 11.30pm.
No sooner had I got myself into bed, Aileen came in and asked how Arthur was. The staff were concerned that he hadn’t opened up to anyone about his wife. I reassured her that Arthur was ok.
Friday 23 April 2010
Day 38 – Jobsworth
Friday 16th October 2009
Could my leaking have finally dried up… I looked at my dressing just after I’d been to the loo early that morning and there didn’t appear to be any marks on it. People kept telling me to look on the positive side so I should be thinking this is it, and I’d be home on Monday.
However I’m not a person who had luck in their lives which is why I always looked on the black side of things. I really wanted to believe that it had stopped oozing but my instinct told me I couldn’t start celebrating yet.
Doctor Richard called in to check my dressing, then Doctor Zara did the same. She thanked me for having a chat with the student yesterday.
I popped into see Mary just before lunch. She was a still a little down. Last night we spent 1 ½ hours chatting and that seemed to have lifted her spirits a little. It was so easy to get fed up and depressed in hospital. I seemed to have one good day and then a down day the next. My mam used to ask “What day are we today”. Tactful as ever…
So much for the dietician trying to change my lunch time food. Yet again I got a salad and baked potatoes. It was getting to the point were I was frightened to tell them I liked something otherwise I would get it for every single meal.
Kermit came to see how my leaking was doing. He was going to give it until Monday then make a decision on whether a bigger washout would be required. Zara was accompanying him on his rounds and when he mentioned another trip to the theatre, she was trying hard not to laugh as she knew I called it the woodshed.
While I was at the loo, one of the men from the bay opposite my side room hadn’t noticed that the sign on the loo door said ‘women’, so was most embarrassed when he tried to open the door and a ladies voice shouted “I’ll be out in a minute”.
He waited until I had come out of the loo to apologise. I told him not to worry as the loos kept changing ‘their sex’ every couple of days depending on which had the most patients, and most patients took no notice of the sign anyway.
A little later he asked one of the nurses if it was ok for him to pop into my room to say hello as he didn’t know if I could be disturbed.
“Are you a private BUPA patient,”, he asked, “seeing as you’re in a side room”.
“No”, I replied, “I had an infection when I was admitted and they didn’t know if I was contagious”.
A look of horror appeared on his face.
“Don’t worry”, I said, trying to reassure him, “I’m not”.
We chatted for about ½ hour, mainly talking about pubs as he lived not far from me. He was due to be discharged that afternoon so when his wife came to collect him, he popped in to say goodbye.
About 4.45pm Teraseta was about to give me my tablets when she asked if she could be excused as two paramedics had appeared at the nurses station. They had come to collect a gentleman, Arthur, from the men’s bay, to take him to the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Gateshead.
She filled them in on his medical history and said he was fit to travel. She added that during the night he had experienced slight chest pains but following an ECG and a check-up with a doctor, everything was fine.
“We can’t take him”, said one of the paramedics, “he’s a risk”.
“What do you mean, a risk”, she asked.
“Because of his chest pains, we can’t take him, in case he has a heart attack”.
“He’s fine”, she stressed, “he hasn’t had any more pains and the doctors say he’s fine”.
The two men shook their head. “We’re not taking him”.
Things stated to get a little heated. Teraseta kept reassuring them that Arthur was ok, but they were not budging.
She picked up the phone and asked if Doctor Zara would come down to the nurse station.
I could hear Zara’s footsteps coming down the ward as she always wore high heels.
Teraseta explained what the problem was. Even though the two paramedics were quite large and Zara was very small, she stood her ground.
“I’ll have to get permission from my manager”, said one of the men.
“The phone’s there”, said Zara, pointing to the phone on the nurses station.
Five minutes later, he put down the receiver.
“My boss says we can take him but we’re not bringing him back. He’ll have to make his own way back”.
After Arthur had been wheeled away by the paramedics Teraseta came into my room, extremely upset.
“The poor man’s wife is dying. She’s on a life support machine”, she sobbed, “and they weren’t going to let him go and say goodbye before they switched off the machine”.
I knew that Arthur’s wife was in hospital as the man who came and had a chat with me that morning, had told me. I didn’t know it was that serious. Arthur had been on the ward for a couple of days and I used to say hello and wave to him when I went to the loo. He was lovely man, and it was just so sad.
I told Mary what had happened as she had heard raised voices but didn’t know what was the matter. While I was in Mary’s room later that evening, Arthur had come back from the hospital.
“How did he look”, she asked.
“He seemed ok”, I replied, “he was even laughing with the paramedics”.
When one of the night staff nurses came to give me my final tablets of the day she told me that Arthur’s wife had died at 6pm. She too was very upset.
I went straight to tell Mary and who said she would pray for him.
Could my leaking have finally dried up… I looked at my dressing just after I’d been to the loo early that morning and there didn’t appear to be any marks on it. People kept telling me to look on the positive side so I should be thinking this is it, and I’d be home on Monday.
However I’m not a person who had luck in their lives which is why I always looked on the black side of things. I really wanted to believe that it had stopped oozing but my instinct told me I couldn’t start celebrating yet.
Doctor Richard called in to check my dressing, then Doctor Zara did the same. She thanked me for having a chat with the student yesterday.
I popped into see Mary just before lunch. She was a still a little down. Last night we spent 1 ½ hours chatting and that seemed to have lifted her spirits a little. It was so easy to get fed up and depressed in hospital. I seemed to have one good day and then a down day the next. My mam used to ask “What day are we today”. Tactful as ever…
So much for the dietician trying to change my lunch time food. Yet again I got a salad and baked potatoes. It was getting to the point were I was frightened to tell them I liked something otherwise I would get it for every single meal.
Kermit came to see how my leaking was doing. He was going to give it until Monday then make a decision on whether a bigger washout would be required. Zara was accompanying him on his rounds and when he mentioned another trip to the theatre, she was trying hard not to laugh as she knew I called it the woodshed.
While I was at the loo, one of the men from the bay opposite my side room hadn’t noticed that the sign on the loo door said ‘women’, so was most embarrassed when he tried to open the door and a ladies voice shouted “I’ll be out in a minute”.
He waited until I had come out of the loo to apologise. I told him not to worry as the loos kept changing ‘their sex’ every couple of days depending on which had the most patients, and most patients took no notice of the sign anyway.
A little later he asked one of the nurses if it was ok for him to pop into my room to say hello as he didn’t know if I could be disturbed.
“Are you a private BUPA patient,”, he asked, “seeing as you’re in a side room”.
“No”, I replied, “I had an infection when I was admitted and they didn’t know if I was contagious”.
A look of horror appeared on his face.
“Don’t worry”, I said, trying to reassure him, “I’m not”.
We chatted for about ½ hour, mainly talking about pubs as he lived not far from me. He was due to be discharged that afternoon so when his wife came to collect him, he popped in to say goodbye.
About 4.45pm Teraseta was about to give me my tablets when she asked if she could be excused as two paramedics had appeared at the nurses station. They had come to collect a gentleman, Arthur, from the men’s bay, to take him to the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Gateshead.
She filled them in on his medical history and said he was fit to travel. She added that during the night he had experienced slight chest pains but following an ECG and a check-up with a doctor, everything was fine.
“We can’t take him”, said one of the paramedics, “he’s a risk”.
“What do you mean, a risk”, she asked.
“Because of his chest pains, we can’t take him, in case he has a heart attack”.
“He’s fine”, she stressed, “he hasn’t had any more pains and the doctors say he’s fine”.
The two men shook their head. “We’re not taking him”.
Things stated to get a little heated. Teraseta kept reassuring them that Arthur was ok, but they were not budging.
She picked up the phone and asked if Doctor Zara would come down to the nurse station.
I could hear Zara’s footsteps coming down the ward as she always wore high heels.
Teraseta explained what the problem was. Even though the two paramedics were quite large and Zara was very small, she stood her ground.
“I’ll have to get permission from my manager”, said one of the men.
“The phone’s there”, said Zara, pointing to the phone on the nurses station.
Five minutes later, he put down the receiver.
“My boss says we can take him but we’re not bringing him back. He’ll have to make his own way back”.
After Arthur had been wheeled away by the paramedics Teraseta came into my room, extremely upset.
“The poor man’s wife is dying. She’s on a life support machine”, she sobbed, “and they weren’t going to let him go and say goodbye before they switched off the machine”.
I knew that Arthur’s wife was in hospital as the man who came and had a chat with me that morning, had told me. I didn’t know it was that serious. Arthur had been on the ward for a couple of days and I used to say hello and wave to him when I went to the loo. He was lovely man, and it was just so sad.
I told Mary what had happened as she had heard raised voices but didn’t know what was the matter. While I was in Mary’s room later that evening, Arthur had come back from the hospital.
“How did he look”, she asked.
“He seemed ok”, I replied, “he was even laughing with the paramedics”.
When one of the night staff nurses came to give me my final tablets of the day she told me that Arthur’s wife had died at 6pm. She too was very upset.
I went straight to tell Mary and who said she would pray for him.
Tuesday 20 April 2010
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