These Boots

I would like to take a moment inbetween my two hospital weeks to tell you about some of the characters I came across during my stay.

Katie -My first neighbour on the bay.  Katie had been waiting for her operation since before christmas.  She was about the same age as me and had young children, she was a very nice and friendly person who came across as an honest and genuine person.  She cared very much for her children and missed them terribly while she was away from them.  On the day of her operation she was very nervous but she came back surprisingly cheerful and eager to get home to see her little ones.

Linda -Linda took Katie’s place on the ward.  She was a very quiet and mild tempered woman who had come in with stomach pains.  Despite her pain she was friendly from the start and we got on well immediately. A very nice woman who was sent home the same day as me.

Norma -Norma Norma Norma.  Came on to the ward after me and looked a little worse for wear.  She had had a relatively routine operation but because of her age had ended up in the High Dependency Unit.  When she came to us she still had her PCAS (Patient Controlled pin thingy) going in through a central line in her neck.  She was very friendly and started talking to us straight away.  She seemed to suffer terribly from wind which resulted in her making a dreadful sound.  She seemed to get much worse when she was upset or worried, she had a lot of allergies so medicine time (and immediatley afterwards)was quite stressful and she tended to wake up in the middle of the night making her noise.  This did wake many of us and she apologised, we didn’t mind so much because she seemed uncomfortable and we were more concerned for her than bothered.  Poor Norma did have a tendcy to be down on life and became very easily depressed to almost a suicidal point.  Unfortunatley on the last friday that I was in hospital, the staff discovered that her central line had an MRSA infection and she was moved into her own room.

Edith -Then there was Edith.  Edith joined us on Friday 23rd.  I had heard stories about her behaviour but had not attributed it to such a frail looking being as joined us.  I had heard that she had spat in her own daughters face, that she had shouted at and even scratched one of the nurses, I was a little aprehensive.  When she arrived she seemed nice enough, slept a lot of the day.  The first night she woke us all up by shouting for a nurse repeatedly instead of using her buzzer.  This was passed of as her being disorientated after moving rooms.  That turned out to be incorrect.  In fact the whole time she was there she woke us up EVERY NIGHT.  She repeatedly made a fuss and was often very abusive and nasty, particularly to the staff.  Her behaviour was offensive and unacceptable.  I will get to more of Ediths antics in my second week.

Jean - On a much more pleasent note, there was Jean.  She was by far the most positive pleasent woman I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.  She was in for a relatively procedure and suffered a few complications.  I later found out that she had an inoperable brain tumor.  I had suspected she had had chemotherapy as she had little hair, but having found out is was inoperable I was truly stunned at her positive outlook on life.  She was truly a lovely person, I simply cannot do her justice.  When I left hospital Jean was still there, I truly hope she got home and on the mend.

So I arrived at ward 64 in the Lincoln wing with my dad and was pointed to bed 15, which (it turned out) was to be mine for the next 2 weeks.  I went through the usual new arrival administration with one of the nurses and then had to wait for a doctor to see me.  My dad went home with instructions to phone him once I had seen the doctor.  Luckily, I had had the forethought to take my Sony ereader with me and I started to read while I waited for the doctor.  The bedtime drugs trolley came around and then went, the lights went out (at which point I drew my curtains so that my nightlight wouldn’t disturb anyone) and everyone fell asleep.  Still no doctor. Finally at about 11.45pm the on call night doctor came to see me.  My notes had not been found (and never were) so she had to take a full medical history from me which took about an hour.  I then had to wait for a canular to be put in my arm and a drip attached to get me hydrated.  After all of this I phoned my dad to let him know what was going on and eventually at about 1am I was ready to sleep.

Tuesday 20th January and I was rudely awoken at 7.30am by the light going on and the morning drugs trolley going around.  I was not happy.  As breakfast came around (which I could not eat) I awaited the arrival of my consultant at rounds.  At around 10am he came to me and said he needed to wait for my notes and I was to stay on my drip and nill by mouth. (It turns out they had said I would be operated on IF there was a cancellation)  So I went to the bathroom to freshen up.  When I got back to the bay the cleaners were in and I couldn’t get back to my bed because my neighbours bed was in the way.  Katie, as was my neighbours name, told me to perch on her bed while we waited.  We began to chat and I started to get to know everyone in the bay.  The rest of Tuesday passed relatively uneventfully, chatted to the nurses, socialised with my neighbours, saw my dad and Tom, continued reading, topped up my drip and then went to bed as I was very tired from being kept up the previous night.

Wednesday 21st and my notes still had not surfaced, the consultant informed me that if I really could not manage to eat, it would be best to have a feeding tube inserted up my nose.  I was reluctant at first as I was concious of the fact that I could not work in a microbiology environment with a direct microbial access to my stomach stuck to the side of my head.  This caused me great concern as it would mean lots of time off work with only state sick pay.  The consultant left me to think about it and I discussed it with my dad and Tom.

Thursday 22nd and it was decided I would be put on the list for my NG feeding tube.  Joy of joys.  The nutritionist came to see me and wrote my feeding schedule.

Friday 23rd and my feeding tube is inserted, it was not a pleasent experience but it was by far, not as unpleasent as if it had been done by endoscopy.  I was started on my feeding and at night started to feel very queesy.  I was prescibed an anti-sickness drug called cyclosine which the night nurse decided to give me through my canular.  (I later found out that most of the day nurses will not give it this way, the reason for which I will now tell you)  I was warned I may feel light headed and have palpitations, but we proceeded anyway.  As the cyclosine was pushed through my vein it began to burn.  I do not mean lightly, I mean like flames erupting up my arm, it was so painful I had to clench my teeth and close my eyes.  I instantly felt light headed and put my head back on my pillow.  The nurse drew the curtains and left me to my light headedness at which point my palpitations erupted.  No wonder this works as an anti-sickness drugs, I thought as my heart raced, its because you think your about to die from the palpitations!  It all passes and I am fall into a wonderful sleep (from the Tramadol I was also given for my headache).

Ok here is the mess that ensued between the 17th and 19th January.

On Saturday the 17th of January I woke up and discovered that I was not able to keep ANYTHING down.  This included all food and fluids, even water, which upto this point had been my only way of getting anything into me.  Being Saturday I was unable to contact my consultant at the hospital so I had to wait it out, all weekend with no food and only minimal fluid which I eventually managed to swallow after much discomfort.  As you can imagine I was not flowing with energy, but I do believe that my body had become acustomed to running on so little fuel up to this point, that I was in a better condition than someone who had suddenly become unable to eat.

On Monday morning I got up and went to work leaving my dad with strict instructions to contact my consultant.  At around midday I recieved a phonecall from him on my works landline, he simply said, ‘they want you in, they have a cancellation’  he then continued to inform me that it was the consultant himself who had decided I HAD to be hospitalised and the bed manager was frantically trying to find a bed for me.  I went to Andy, my boss, and informed him of what was going on.  He was wonderful about it all and asked me if I needed to go and prepare, I declined and continued to work.  My dad picked me up in my grandma’s car and we decided it was unlikely I would go into hospital at this late hour so I should try and eat something.  It was decided that I should have something I really wanted to try and encourage me to force the food down.  We settled on crumpets with Marmite and stopped off at Morrisons on the way home.  Literally one minute away from my house I got a phone call on my mobile.  It was the bed manager at St. James Hospital, Leeds.  Before speaking to me she had apparently phoned home, where my grandma was, and had been told I wasn’t in yet, my dad was picking me up from work.  This slightly more authorative pencil pusher then questioned whether or not I needed to be in hospital since I had managed to go to work.  To which I, in a slightly annoyed mannor, informed the woman that I hadn’t eaten in three days and had only managed minimal fluids so YES I BLOODY DID NEED TO BE IN HOSPITAL TONIGHT!!!!!  She then informed me I had a bed waiting for me on ward 64 in St. James Hospital.  So I never got to try for my crumpets, we popped home to collecting some things and inform grandma and then made our way to the hospital.  And so the hospital saga begins.

Ok I’ll skip the personal chastisement and get straight to it.

6th January was Tuesday and I don’t recall much happening.  Work was slow so I got very bored.  Tom came to see me after work which was lovely.

7th January work was again very boaring.  Dad managed to contact the waiting list person at the hospital and it turns out I am 2 months away from being treated! Its ridiculous, I had my pre-op at the end of October for crying out loud, I should have been treated by now! I was looking forward to starting the new year being able to eat food as I wished but now I can’t because the wonderful NHS is dragging its heels.  The same NHS, by the way, that didn’t trust a student to know the difference between acid reflux and an actual problem for FIVE YEARS, who sent her for 3 useless tests one of which resulted in a weeks stay in hospital and who when a diagnosis was finally reached didn’t have the decency to grant a consultancy with the surgeon because he was on holiday in India. I am SICK TO DEATH of people pissing all over my problem I would like to see every person (including my own mother) who has told me ‘its in your head’ or ‘its just acid reflux’ to suffer this problem for just a week and maybe then I might actually get taken seriously.  I struggle so much to eat I have dropped three dress sizes, my skin is terribly dry and I am unhealthy because I can not eat anything near a balanced diet!  I know I’m ranting but people need to know just how truly the NHS has screwed me over and I’ve had enough.  Anyway the consultants secretary told me to get a note from my doctor to say that I am still losing weight, the more I lose the harder my recovery will be, maybe this will speed me up the list little.  I’m not hopeful.  Had I the money I would go private I am tired of fighting to be healthy.  Next rant….Tom and I went swimming on Wednesday night which was lovely I really enjoyed it. However, the pool (Richard Dunn’s Sport Centre) was not what I would call worth the £3.70 we paid for it.  A water aerobics class was going on at the same time as the quiet little swim we had wanted, so we had to listen to crappy music and a woman, so thin she disappeared if she turned sideways, screaming at ladies to ‘get those legs up!’.  There was a plaster at the side of the pool, hardly any room for those wanting to swim laps, hard lumps growing out of the side of the pool and the staff were rude.  Esporta Health Club is looking really tempting right now.  I then went back to Tom’s for a coffee after which Tom took me home and I went straight to bed.

8th January.  I got up and went to work, I met Shauna on the bus.  The morning was quite quiet but the afternoon was incredibly busy, I told Andy about what the hospital had said and he seemed shocked.  My work colleagues were also shocked and appalled at the length of my wait.  So I got the bus home with Shauna after work and when we got home little Alexis-mya was full of beans after nursery and it was lovely to see her.  So then I had tea and put on Boston Legal and now I am writing my blogg.  I will try my hardest to remember to blogg tomorrow. Honest.  Take care.

The big event in my life at present, aside from the backlog of student debts, is the waiting game that is surgery.  I have a condition known as Achalasia and had suffered for five years without the correct diagnosis.  Now that I finally have, I am waiting for surgery to correct the problem.

So, what is Achalasia?  Well, basically the ring of muscle between my oesophagus and my stomach doesn’t relax when I eat.  This means that quite often food can not pass into my stomach and has to come back up.  As you can imagine, this is not pleasant.  Over the years I have managed to eat by forcing the food down with pints of water, but even this does not always work.  The surgery I am waiting for involves cutting the muscle and then half wrapping my stomach around the bottom of my oesophagus to prevent reflux.  This is fairly major surgery and I have been informed is only performed about 3 times a year at St James hospital.  I am also told that the condition is an ‘old lady’ condition and strictly speaking I shouldn’t have it.

So, how did it develop and manifest?  As for the development, no one can tell me why, science hasn’t yet found a reason though there are many theories.  It began with feeling food getting stuck on its way down which gradually got worse until it started coming back up.  I then also started getting indigestion, trapped wind and pain in my chest.  For five years I was told it was simply acid reflux and I was given every possible medication for this problem.  But here I am now an endoscopy, barium swallow, traumatic hospital stay and pressure test down the line and I finally have the correct diagnosis.

I eagerly await my operation, though my recovery will be slow and I will have to eat mushed up food for a month, I can not wait to enjoy my first meal without any problems.  Perhaps I will go to a restaurant and eat comfortably without first having to locate the nearest bathroom.  It will be bliss.  The end of my embarrassment.