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Day 2: here we go. Now, I will readily admit that I am a little nervous. I was kinda quite proud of my finished blog yesterday and a few of you said it made you chuckle. Including some people I DON'T EVEN KNOW. So it must be true.
But this actually creates a bit of a problem.... because, when I read blogs (even fantastic ones), I am struck by the fact that they are sometimes side-splittingly hilarious and sometimes just not that funny at all. It's like one day they've got it and one day they haven't. And so I'm a little worried that today's effort may not hit the spot because, while there is clearly other material to use, I'm not sure it will be 'quite' as special as our Jean! Hey, I'll give it a whirl though - maybe my new drug of choice will help the artistic flow...
Jean, FYI, has already instigated a little chat with me this morning: 'Oi, Susie (she now appears to have at least learnt my name), I've had a terrible night, terrible. Had diarrhoea all night, pouring out of me, it was'. I had two thoughts at this point: 1) I'm not sure this is exactly the news I needed over breakfast and 2) thank xxxx for ear plugs.
Today, I'm going to regale you with some random musings about various hospital-related phenomena that I have noticed during the last (almost) week... 6 days and counting......
The Beeping
It is constant: between IV machines, beds, buzzers, phones, data recording devices, timers, blood pressure machines, monitors, there is almost perpetually something beeping. The tone of the noise is very, very hard to ignore.... I guess that's the point: it is an alarm and so has some urgency in it so that staff respond quickly. However, there is a fatal flaw in this plan. There are 74 patients and only a handful of staff so when everyone and their machine needs attention at once.... you follow me? (And it won't surprise you to know that, if there was an award for inappropriate buzzer buzzing, Jean would be right up there with the contenders).
You can block it out for a wee while but then it starts to do something quite monstrous to your brain. Yesterday, I coped all day until bedtime... I laid my sleepy narcotic-filled head down on that pillow, and suddenly, the beeping precipitated a temporary flash of complete insanity. I leapt out of bed and began jabbing at all manner of buttons and switches on my neighbour's machines like a demented traffic warden. I am developing a finely honed talent for identifying alarm silencer buttons in the dark (who'd have thought it?). After my few minutes of frenetic activity, I collapsed into bed and happily slept until I was awoken rudely by someone trying to ram a thermometer into my ear-plug-filled ear.
Soundproof curtains
Why, oh why!!!!!!?! Assuming that you have to be relatively bright to become a doctor... and then relatively competent to become a consultant, explain to me why all such doctors seem to abandon common sense during ward rounds. In they march, stethoscopes flying, approach their patient, pull the curtains round the bed and then discuss their personal issues, diagnosis and prognosis at the tops of their voices. Because, of course, if those curtains are closed, no-one else can hear a thing.
In spite of this firmly held medical belief in the mysterious power of curtains, during this and other hospital stays, I have unwillingly and uncomfortably overheard some truly heartbreaking interactions. They include hearing a young woman receive an out-of-the-blue cancer diagnosis and a couple being informed of plans to transfer their desperately ill baby to a neonatal ICU at birth. If they were conducting an intimate examination, I could see the logic: pull those curtains on round. But for a conversation???? It is quite mind-blowing.
Mobile phones
Another hospital 'thing': phones. Listening to your neighbours repeatedly regaling their significant others with the mundanities of their day (with a sprinkling of medical terms for good measure) is like being on a long train journey, but worse. Especially when you're hooked up to a drip and therefore cannot escape.
On about the second night here, knackered and in pain, I was driven almost to distraction by a new cellmate's midnight phone conversation. After about 15 minutes, I could stand it no more and stomped over and reminded her (probably none too politely) that it was midnight and the other five people in here were trying to sleep.
The next morning, the poor woman, whom I shall name Wendy, was mortified: she had not eaten for two days, was off her head on morphine and had not realised the time. So, after an inauspicious start, Wendy and I had a bonding giggle and became temporary ward chums. That night, I aided and abetted her in the theft of a wheelchair and took her and her catheter downstairs for a cigarette. Before she got parole and bxxxxxed off.
Stop Press: by popular request, a further Jean update:
Remarkably, it appears that Jean has met her match in the new, no-nonsense nurse on duty today. I didn't catch the whole exchange but I DID distinctly hear the nurse calmly telling her that she 'found her very rude'. I resisted the temptation to lead a round of applause.
Anyway enough of this rambling and back to my drug habit. Yesterday, my release seemed imminent but not looking quite so promising today. If I am imprisoned for a further day, I plan to request another Oxycodone high. Described by the malleable Pain Nurse as 'hillbilly heroin', it makes Oramorph seem like Calpol. Loving it.
- comments
Anne Elliott Mccrystal Brilliant blog, keep them coming! They may even keep you sane Suzi, being in hospital closely resembles living in a parallel universe! Get well soon xxx