04 - Illness - 1

Ho hum


Illness. What a pain in the butt this is. The story: In March 2009 I was rushed into hospital with likely kidney failure, blood clots in the legs and lungs and God knows what else. Stuck in intensive care for several weeks and later 4/5 weeks in a recovery ward. Unable to return back to work for several months.

Hospital:

Can’t complain about the staff, they’re under enough pressure and doing a difficult job in a stressful environment. The only thing I would say is that there is one particular nurse who is definitely ion the wrong profession – that’s all I will say “Bitch”…

Anyhows most of the nurses were really good.

I was having tremendous problems being able to walk and thought I would never walk again. A physio said that is rubbish as at 52 I was still considered to be a young person. That cheered me up. Until………the following day I heard the same physio tell the patient next to me “78..we don’t consider that to be old at all” Next day patient is transferred out to another ward. The night following he passed away…oh dear…

The three most depressing things about being in hospital for the long term is the relentless boredom, the food and your fellow patients. The boredom was compounded by the fact that there was no television on the ward.

The highlight of my stay in the recovery war was the ‘escape’ of a patient to the outside world. Patients stood at my window watched as he tried to get on bus while being pulled back by nurses and security guards.

The thing about being a long term patient is you see a quick turnaround of other patients. Being that there is not much else to do you tend to make conversation. In a ward of 4 patients (including me) there must have been 10/12 patients in and out. They ranged from a West Indian ex RAF flyer, a Hungarian ex-wrestler to an elderly German who used to sleepwalk (with the drip attached). There was bloke who couldn’t walk but was convinced he could (cue pressing the emergency button at 2am, 2.30am and so on), a young Italian lad who all the nurses seemed to fancy (Git!) and another who was a “tad” religious – he told his visitors/followers that he had visions of seeing the holy David.

One meal was so bad that even the nurse said I shouldn’t eat it. The Italian lad next to me wouldn’t eat the food at all and ordered a Pizza over the phone. The West Indian guy got his family to bring in some terrific home made West Indian food.

In general the care was exceptional except when it came to the ‘water functions’

Having an attachment to allow you to pee in a bag – apart from the embarrassment - is that it used to become detached during the night and you would wake up in the morning in a bed of your own pee. For some reason this was deemed to be ‘my fault’.

I was finally asked if I wanted the attachment removed. I asked if it would be painful to remove to which the nurse replied ‘of course not’. I can only assume that she thought I was asking if it would be painful for her because IT WAS for me. Later, on reflection I wondered what I expected the nurse to say – she wasn’t going to say ‘yes, it is bloody painful’…

The physios were due to visit me everyday and I use to dread it. Again on reflection they were right and I should not have been so reluctant I’m sure my recovery would have been quicker if I had been more cooperative. My only complaint was on their first visit when I was simply dumped in a chair with an excruciating back pain.

One thing I did discover – Morphine. On the first Saturday night I woke screaming with pains in my kidneys. The nurse rushed to see me and left to phone someone. It sounded as if she was trying to get authorisation. She and a colleague returned and replaced my drip bag with a morphine concoction. Within seconds I felt as if I was floating. I can see how people get addicted. If only it were legal..

Anyway, in case you are reading - a big thankyou to the nurses (except one), doctors, physios and other staff who looked after me in Central Middlesex and I haven’t forgotten the chocolates.

Highlights of my stay: Family and work colleagues coming to me. The morphine

Next installment ….At home recovering..