If I ever get out of here … (2)

As you do, the night before the operation, I wrote a list of things to do for Partner in case I never made it off the operating table.

In fact when I looked at the list of outstanding things to do, I figured not having to deal with them all was a small bonus. And I would know nothing about it either.

Tuesday was busy, busy, busy.

I’d asked my surgeon where I was on the list. ‘It’s shortly going to undergo a massive change,’ he boasted. And added naughtily, ‘you aren’t on the list’. Later in the conversation he told me I was fourth.

A nurse told me it didn’t work quite like that. An emergency might come in and take precedence, well yes, obviously. A bit like me 12 days previously, except as it was bank hol, there was no theatre. Wonder what they do with real emergencies on a bank hol or weekend? Call out a surgeon? Rush the patient to Algeciras? People with diabetes tended to go to the top of the list too. Who cares? Not me. The only reason I wanted a vague idea was to make sure I’d had chance for a wash, teeth brush, and not be rushed.

Fracture blisters

But let’s backtrack a bit. If you read part one you will know that the reason for delay in surgery was due to the appearance of fracture blisters. On the Friday morning when I first met my surgeon, he explained the optimum time for surgery after an accident like mine was 1.5 to 2 hours.

Well given how long it took me to get help, the ambulance to strap me up and stretcher me down from the disused military bastion, get to hospital, sit in MI, have X-rays, chat with smiley doctor – that rapidly used up that precious time interval. Had surgery even been available on a bank hol.

Now, like most of you, despite all my many previous ankle injuries, I’d not heard of fracture blisters. Hardly surprising. One source I looked at said that less than three per cent of joint injuries involve them. A rarity no less.

Add this to the fact that Gib is basically a cottage hospital with bells on. It serves a population of 30,000 people. As a kid, hospitals abounded in my local towns in the UK. Most towns had not one but two hospitals.

But time moves on and hospitals close. So my local towns’ populations of 60 and 70+ thousand have one hospital each now. Another town, population of 50,000 no longer has a hospital. My childhood town of 20+ thousand never had a hospital – apart from a fever hospital, closed before I was born – and the market town I lived in, pop’n 35,000 (more than Gib) when I was commuting to London, never had one either.

So, serving a small population, and yet doing CABGs, and cancer ops, is yet another indicator of the anomaly that is Gib.

It’s hardly any wonder that staff came to peer at my uncommon fracture blisters. Reading around, your average specialist orthopaedic surgeon should always assess a fracture for blisters. But I wasn’t dealt with initially by an orthopaedic surgeon. Merely the doctor in A&E. His not to look for potential blister areas, but to stabilise a broken ankle. Had he ever seen a fracture blister I wonder?

In this (not very good) pic you can see the raised area that became the blister. It’s basically damaged tissue that’s arisen from a badly sheared fracture. Would the surgeon have noticed had he seen it on the first day? Who knows?

The raised area on the lower leg is what became the Bluster Zone.  I mean Blister Zone ...
The raised area on the lower leg is what became the Bluster Zone. I mean Blister Zone …

Because they are quite rare, there is no agreement on treatment. Time, aspiration, cryotherapy are options. My surgeon told me NOT to pop it and we would go down the time route.

Dateless doctor from A&E suggested ice. Nurse attached ice, added yet more bandage and eventually I was not only lugging a leg of plaster, I had a bag of water to drag around as well. I ripped it off. It was never mentioned again. Me and my surgeon agreed on fresh air.

There are two types of blister. Those filled with clear fluid and those with blood. I had both of course. The blood ones are worse.

The main problem is the potential for infection during and after the op with some sort of coccus being prevalent.

So, all you needed to know about fracture blisters, and let’s hope you don’t need to put it to use.

And for no particular reason, the culprit.

Awwww! So cute.  Who me? Causing problems?
Awwww! So cute.
Who me? Causing problems?

PRE-OP

Pros and cons of op – or – risks and side effects

Back in the early days of limbo, I’d asked what about not operating. Surgeon looked at me as though I hadn’t left kindergarten and said it wasn’t an option. Early onset arthritis and lots of pain. Rattled through operation of plate in lateral side plus screws, and screws in whatever they call the inside. I wasn’t impressed.

With the onset of limbo I didn’t bother enquiring any more about the op. However when it suddenly became The Day, I figured it was time to take a renewed interest.

I asked surgeon about risks and side effects. See I didn’t waste ten years in the NHS for nothing. The bastards are supposed to tell you this. It’s called being an informed patient. You need to be informed before you can consent to an op.

‘Oh I thought we’d discussed this before,’ he said loftily.

Oh no we jolly well hadn’t. What would happen if I didn’t have the op, but not what the risks of the op were.

‘But we’ll do it again anyway,’ he added smarmily.

He rattled it off. Bleeding (from the double incisions), pain (huh?), poss DVT leading to PE (good thing I was up on deep vein thrombosis and pulmonary embolism eh), arthritis, post-op infection and I can’t remember the rest. Wherein lies another story.

And off he went.

I’d already seen the anaesthetist. Scandinavianssen or some such name. Did I want to have a spinal injection and stay awake to watch? Yeah, that sounds a great idea. I just love to sit up and watch someone slashing my ankles, blood spurting everywhere, clamps being used and screwing my delicate bones up with bits of metal. Not to mention hearing the usual crass theatre chat.

I went for the GA. Just put me out like a light sweetheart. If I come round, great. If I don’t, I’ll never know. I like GAs.

Later that morning, I was chatting to one of my regular nurses. He’d gone for the spinal injection. It screwed with his body and his metabolism so much that he was flat on his back for two weeks afterwards. Sure GA carries a risk. So does fucking with your spine.

Patient consent

OK. I have to admit this was mildly fun. One of my nice smiley medic friends came around with the form, and said ‘sign here’.

WHOA! Having a laugh? Would I sign away money like that? No. And while my body may not be worth much, it is still mine.

I went through everything. Twice.

‘These are the relevant bits,’ he pointed out.

I was signing for all of them, so as far as I could see they were all relevant.

Meanwhile Cherie in the bed opposite was pissing herself laughing. Poor old medic wailed, ‘But nobody ever reads it!’

This may possibly explain some of the problems in the health service because you precious gits should spend more time explaining instead of trying to get signatures on forms.

We reached a consensus that I would end up with arthritis whether I had the op or not. I would suffer pain either way. Without the op I would be in plaster for eight weeks. Um, I’m in plaster for six weeks after the op.

I wanted to discuss percentage risk factors for the most dangerous. Bleeding he said. Oh dear. No, I didn’t want to know the most likely one. I wanted to know the worst one and what the chance of that was. I looked at him patiently.

‘No. That’s the most common one isn’t it? I want to know about the most serious. I think it is DVT leading potentially to pulmonary embolism while on the operating table.’

Aaaaagh!

‘Oh, yes.’

Medics never could communicate.

‘Can I have a copy of these notes,’ I asked as I flicked through my file.

‘Yes, ask for them when you leave.’

A favourite nurse brought me a gown and a white stocking (to prevent DVT).

I waited. And suddenly a porter appeared and up we went to theatre.

Theatre

It was freezing in the anaesthetic area. A perky woman came in. ‘Hello, I’m Kate, I’m a medical student.’ That was hardly inspiring. The theatre nurse admitted to being a student too. I took courage from the Indian who looked as old as me and didn’t proclaim his student status.

Med student jabbed me to find a vein. I’ve always had junkies’ veins so her botched attempt at screwing a needle every wherever was getting too bad to bear. ‘I do have other veins,’ I offered. In case she hadn’t noticed.

A new vein was attempted. Mr Scandinavianssen appeared and said you are growing sleepy, sleepy, sleepy.

OK, he actually said I’m going to inject the anaesthetic soon.

And then it was bloody freezing and I was awake in the recovery room. Back up to important post-theatre room so I could be monitored every 15!! minutes. And NO! I did not want painkillers.

Partner turned up for a fleeting visit.

Post-op people seem to be allowed to receive visitors at will.

I ate tea. I felt as OK as you do after an op. No GA after effects.

Pain relief

I had a choice of drug cocktails. Never mind boring old paracetamol. I now had a wider choice including tramadol (mild opiate whose effect was strengthened with an NSAID such as para or ibuprofen) or … oral morphine.

Morphine. I harked back to the ops of the past and remembered floating on the ceiling with morphine. I’d even joked about morphine with some of the nurses and here it was, prescribed right there for me.

So, as ever, I lay there. Not too much pain. No paracetamol needed. And then, in the night, OUCH! OUCH! OUCH! Something was screwing right into the inside of my ankle. I waited for it to disappear, or for me to mentally make it disappear. It didn’t. I took the tramodol and two ibuprofen left by a nurse who said I might need it. And if I wanted something stronger … Of course like an idiot I never did ask for the morphine.

I listened to the woman next door and her visitor. She’d had a breast op. ‘You don’t want to use morphine. It’s addictive.’

Hell, if my pain was bad, morphine would suit me down to the ground. I couldn’t justify it though. Tramodol and boring ibuprofen worked perfectly well. Maybe I don’t need to float on the ceiling any more? So near and yet so far to/from that sublime out of body experience.

The next morning I was the first to be decanted from the theatre ward. Back to the three-bed room and my window view. A bit later two of my post-theatre companions were wheeled in.

How long would I be here post-op? Another two weeks?

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103 comments on “If I ever get out of here … (2)

  1. HA! But if you had stayed awake, you could have insisted on choosing the music in the OR/Theatre? (Not a fan of messing with the spine either..hear the headaches are horrendous.)
    Of course you would get the most rare situation. (Is it just writers or are some people just magnets for that sort of thing?)
    Still say it’s good you had med. background. (such a giggle: “Nobody ever reads it”). Here they slow down and explain carefully only if they hear there’s a doc in the family. Apparently it is standard practice for pre-op/post op to be frigid…I pack a sweater and fuzzy socks.
    It’s probably too soon to be funny – but you relay the tale with such humor. I apologize for laughing so loudly.
    So now you will set off metal detectors? That’s going to provide some fun.
    Hope you are resting as comfortably as Snowy.

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    • I like sleep. Especially when I am being sliced open. Actually the main problem my nurse mentioned was a TWO WEEK headache.

      Yup, it’s me. I like to complicate things. Gangrene, blood transfusions, I’m in there.

      Patient info and informed consent was always one of my big things. Having been on the other side this month, I think I was fighting the right battle. Not that I won, but at least I won my own personal corner last week.

      I was told it was even colder in theatre. Nasties I suppose might breed and infect. Anyway they blew hot air under my blanket which stopped my teeth chattering.

      I don’t know why people find this story funny. Someone else said that. It’s just as it happened.

      Metal detectors. Unlikely. I don’t fly. Too cattle class for me.

      Snows has cleared off to the big bed. I am not allowed on there. Too many hops away from the toilet :D

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  2. It must say something that most people read their cellphone contracts with far greater care than ones relating to their own health.
    I imagine you are on their list of model patients – as in supermodels with ‘handle with care’ labels.
    Fancy blowing the chance of having a perfectly legal fix!

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    • I’m on PAYG so mobiles aren’t an issue. I do read all small print for everything. Some is non-negotiable sadly. This was worth giving a jolt though :)

      Hey, my fave nurse said I was a perfect patient. I suspect my surgeon came round for the entertainment value half the time. He was also responsible for the woman next to me and invariably tried to slope off without seeing her.

      I know. I screwed that right up. Still kicking myself. With the half good leg. Apathy reigns?

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  3. Yes, it’s strange how medics get all alarmed when you insist on reading the stuff they hand to you to sign….let alone wanting to discuss it.
    After all, whose body is it? When in hospital, as far as they are concerned …theirs!
    The bright spark who cocked up my broken leg was most annoyed when I commandeered my notes which he had rashly left beside the bed and pointed out that the information within contradicted what he had just been telling me.

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    • Naughty. Differential knowledge. Theirs not to presume and abuse but they do. Francis was still shaking his head as he walked out of the door.

      I read my figures on the bed every day. I read the notes. I read everything. I didn’t read the notes for another patient that a nurse left on my bed. I called him back and said, I think these belong to someone else.

      It’s hard to be assertive in hospital. Most people are grateful and forget they have rights. I swear I would work for the health service all over again if I thought I could achieve anything.

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      • When Leo has been in hospital he normally arrives on the way into a coma…so no chance of being assertive!
        When in intensive care in France it was just that…intensive and caring…but out on the recovery wards or on general neurological wards you needed someone on your side – and in his case, on one occasion, it was his Turkish builder who used to nip in after finishing work in the evening, long after visiting time, who discovered that he had not eaten for days…having paralysed hands he could not open the foil topped packs of puree. The food service staff had reported the untouched cartons to the nursing staff..who did precisely bugger all about it.
        Tahsin shot straight home, brought in a thermos of home made soup and fed Leo himself, even before ringing me.

        I had a round trip of 160 kilometres…and could only visit in prescribed hours in the afternoon….Leo was still pretty comatose.
        I had to ask for a key to the lockers for protective garments…the nurses – clustered in their office – would tell me to wait. So I didn’t. I went in in my outdoor clothes.
        Did anyone come to check? No.

        After a number of disturbing events in terms of treatment and care, a young cousin from Belgium and I sprang him from the hospital. Not to return.

        We shifted ourselves to a hospital in a neighbouring region….thanks to a determined Basque G.P. and a super specialist there….
        A different world!.

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        • The food aspect is interesting. Given how important nutrition is, you would think they might notice untouched food. I had to ask the nurses to take off the big covering lid, quite heavy and cumbersome, impossible to do with one hand, and my left wrist couldn’t manage it. Plus there was nowhere to put it. The small lids for individual dishes were heavy too. Some nurses took off the lid automatically yet others looked puzzled when a strapping woman like me asked for help. Perhaps I should have put a crepe bandage around my wrist.

          That is one long journey. And Partner was getting fed up with the 20 minute walk.

          At least you managed to spring Leo. As with many things in Gib, there is only one hospital, so important to make the best of it.

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  4. That’s something, I suppose. The first part of waiting if now over and, now, the second part starts–waiting for things to get right. That’s going to take a time so I suppose one of the questions, is how best to manage the next stage, specifically balancing the physiotherapy activities with the things you need to keep your head together as this stage progresses. If I can offer one piece of advice it is this: the physio-therapy stuff is crucial to your long-term well-being so make it your best work.

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    • The head is fine. After the initial shock it has behaved well.

      Right now, physio is a mix of strengthening upper body, and right leg. Best done at home, more incentive, and already feeling better.

      A neighbour is paying for private physio for his daughter because 15 mins in hospital a day isn’t enough.

      Home is hard. But it is working, little by little.

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  5. It’s like I was there, so clearly is it described. Yes, the effect of any medical emergency is enough for us to give up all our rights to information. “Just make it ok, Doc. I’ll sign anything” and yet we know of many cases where the thing was screwed up.

    Get better soon. I hope it heals well.

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    • Yes, isn’t it just so? How can you think rationally when your health is in jeopardy? And yet, we need to be aware of what is going on. Whatever the physical problems, mental lucidity at a very difficult time is essential.

      Thanks, I hope so too. With all the good wishes I have received, maybe it will :)

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  6. You know ‘K’ reading this is so familiar, when I had a meeting with my surgeon and talked about all the side effects, and possible death,, and they ask me to sign the assent forms, this was probably my most scariest moment I had experienced, I became one of the .6 per cent to have collapsed lung and air pockets. All your pain killers were the same I was taken off paracetamol because it was burning up my inside. Tramadol eventually started making me sick. But I found the nurses could not understand why I said no to pain killers,[because I had no pain] Oral morphine at the start was good though.. great read…;) Ps: I was second on my list, because the patient from Bournemouth never arrived. ???

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    • They really really need to explain better. Nothing was in writing for me, until it came to the form. But it was just a list. Not good. We are messing with people’s lives here, not signing up for cable TV.

      There is too much reading by the book and not enough treating people as individuals. Tramodol is relatively weak! NSAIDs are insidious. Morphine is good!

      People should write about their hospital experiences. We all need to learn.

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  7. Just now saw your post in my reader. Will get back to you on this….just got done doing an interview post and I didn’t get home until going on eight tonight…love the piccy of podenco!!!!! :D Innocent looking little bugger! Will come back to you tomorrow, pobrecita mia. ciao 4 now!

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    • A long and slow road I suspect, but at least I am this side of the op. Just hope I don’t get post-op infection.

      Well, I did want to explain where I’d been, so might as well write about it.

      Thanks V.

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  8. The G.O. and I were asked by family members on the weekend if we planned to stay at Taylors Arm permanently [after we move there]. As far as we know right now, yes, that’s the plan. Did we not want to be nearer to hospitals, etc… as TA is 30 kms from the local hospital, 80 kms from the regional and 500 kms from Sydney? Err. No. If we need to i.e. if it’s unavoidable we would do the hospital stay then return home. Yours is a relatively good hospital story, and conveyed reassuringly impartially. Mostly what we get to hear are the bad-dramatic experiences. There seems to be somewhat of a competitive culture around the ailments of some people we know. Has the cute culprit also suffered… are his walks somewhat curtailed due to you being out of action and Partner’s working hours?

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    • Odd question. If you weren’t going to stay there you’d have to sell and buy elsewhere. What would be the point of that? Oh, yes to be near a hospital. The only thing I have ever looked for near house purchases has been public transport. I think buying near a hospital, while possibly practical, is somewhat negative !

      Yeah, it’s meant to be objective and in fact half the time, I felt I was outside looking in on me.

      Hey I am in for the competitive thing though. How many people do you know who have had fracture blisters? If they are in less than 3% of breaks that means you would need to know at least 33 people to who had broken limbs before you had the chance of one if them having a blister.

      Luckily, extremely luckily, the firm is short of work. They’ve not laid people off, but they’ve told a lot of them, incl Partner, not to turn in. So he was off the two weeks I was in hospital, and has at least another two weeks off. He’s already told the contracts manager he will be happy for the full six weeks of my plaster, takes us up to the June birthdays :D

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  9. You “wrote a list of things to do for partner incase [you] never made if off the operating table” Serisously? :D You were not having open heart surgery, Kate lol Bless ya! :D

    I imagine, A just went along with it quietly? ;)

    Blood blisters…that makes me cringe. Anything to do with blood, usually does. I don’t faint at the sight or anything, but I do cringe, pretty badly and sometimes for ages when I can’t shake the thoughts. (I’m a bloody wuss, honestly)

    I read ’em…but then again, like you, NHS experience. :D I wanna know what’s in the small print and what they’re afraid of. But then, if ever I was to go…it would be sweet while under anaesthetic…no pain or suffering, just sweet nothingness..

    Can’t stop looking at your pic of Snowy…he’s looks a right cheeky chappy! (probably a little bastard just like my Aragorn…he’s always looks sweet and innocent…and he smiles at me, honestly he does. He should have been a bloody cheshire cat. Sometimes I get the impression, he’s taking the piss that’s why I refer to him as a little bastard.)

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    • Insurance policy. Figured if I wrote it, I’d still be around after the op. A’s not read the list. Depresses me there is so much on it :( I’m not good with lots of blood – or fingers ripped to the bone on nails – but I can manage blisters. Probably comes from walking/backpacking in my youth. I nearly suggested using my blister gel to the surgeon but decided this wasn’t the same sort of blister :D

      Nobody even mentioned the form until it suddenly arrived that morning. Good thing I knew to expect it. And to ask pertinent questions. Yes, I think there are worse ways of dying than under anaesthetic. Doesn’t say much for the expertise of the anaesthetist/surgeon though!

      Snowy can look cute for a little rat. He is remarkably comfortable and confident within himself. He’s plagued the life out of me this morning because he wanted me to stop lying on the sofa so that he can curl up in his customary two thirds. He takes up more space than the big dog.

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      • Insurance policy…I like that :)
        Interesting ref. to Miedo there.

        Sounds about right.

        Aye..I’m familiar with such…it’s amazing how much of a sofa a cat can take up…little bastard always races me to the sofa…jumps up before me, sprawls and and looks cute…thinking he’s really clever.

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        • Better safe than sorry. I just have a pesky list to sort now :(

          I feel like I know it nearly as well as you do! I could have added the bit where you fell on your back and never noticed your gashed arm.

          When he wants his part of the sofa he is just a PITA until I move to give him space. And then he lies there beautifully.

          Don’t you think they are clever?

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          • Mm.

            You probably do.

            Sounds about right

            Too damn clever…that’s the problem. (I love it really and wouldn’t want it any other way…but there’s no way I’ll ever admit it to him lol )

            Rico on the other hand, “talks” when he wants something. I just finished doing my yoga exercises with him Now He’s “talking” again. He want out and I’m ignoring him ’cause it’s pissing it down and I worry about him being out when the weather’s bad…he doesn’t give a toss, but I do. He’ll talk until I give in, I know it. (and he does too) He talks when he goes out too…if the birds are chirping, he looks up and talks to them. Go figure.

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          • Yeah, Rico and I do yoga every morning before I go to work…he’s my trainer.. all his idea. and again when I get home from work. Tonight he was out and we went to vote so we did it later..

            I say talks because he uses all kinds of different inflections some of his sounds are very much like words we repeat a lot like, go out, not just out, but gorout and this is his favourite when he’s at the window. To the birds he use this kinda cack, cac cack ca cack noise, like he’s trying to imitate them…he only does it to the birds.

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          • Oh absolutely! And they both come to welcome me home from work. Don’t even get my shoes off in time, and they’re slip-ons.

            Pat’s the last one to get any attention in the morning and on a night.

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  10. well, i am glad to here you are on the other side of the operation, and recovering. and at home, yay! Snowy looks like such a sweetheart, lying there all comfy. A pose Timmy frequently takes up, too, btw.
     
    anyhow, you’ve got my vote on no post-op infection. may your recovery be without any complications. do take care. Timmy sends renewed purrs. XX

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  11. I often say that if politicians ever had the courtesy, or the courage, to ask us where we would like our taxes to be spent most people would put NHS way out at the top of the list.
    I’d never heard of fracture blisters, they look and sound nasty.
    At my recent pre op the nurse asked about alcohol consumption. I confessed to a bottle of wine and she flashed me a look that was part judgemental and part horror. I made a hasty correction and reassessed it at half a bottle and pretended that she must have misunderstood and she seemed to approve of this revised quantity!
    I hope you get back on your feet soon.
    I didn’t like the dog picture obviously!

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    • I think the NHS is good despite some flaws. I think people abuse it because it is free. They certainly don’t understand the funding and the management. My biggest gripe was always trying to make doctors into managers. Why pay a medic a fortune to do a crap job of managing AND take them away from their clinical time when you can pay a manager peanuts to do better?

      And, that’s not because I didn’t get on with them. I did. When I left the NHS, my letters, flowers, cards etc were all from doctors and nurses. And don’t say they were glad to see me go! :D

      But the NHS could run itself quite nicely without uncivil servants and politicians.

      I don’t think many people have.

      I was never asked if I smoked or drank in hospital. Other people were because I heard an anaesthetist and nurses telling them to stop smoking. Maybe I don’t look like a smoker? Or a drinker? I usually say two glasses of wine or two beers. Irrelevant really. Once inside you sober up pretty fast. Nearest thing I got to a beer was ginger beer!

      No weight bearing for six weeks. I’ll have forgotten how to walk by them. Hop along Roughseas. Or maybe skippy, skippy …

      I was showing a pic of a dangerous dog. Not everyone has dig phobia.

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  12. You should do a post from Snowy on the pippa blog…his perspective on your accident, what he tried to do to help when you were stranded…how he’s missed and now he’s happy you’re back home. He could call it: Misery’s Mishap. :D

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  13. Your mention of hospitals not working bank holidays, reminds me of years ago, before our town got an A&E hospital and we just had a small cottage hospital.
    The doors closed at 5pm, no good to me when Deb (aged about 4) came off her bike one evening, splitting her chin open, resulting in a mad dash in a neighbours car to Birmingham’s Selly Oak (now QE).
    Another incident when Shell broke her arm, saw me running through the doors five minutes before closing ( I bet I was popular).

    You’d never catch me opting for a spinal injection either…just the though sends shivers up my…..err spine.
    I’d much rather risk not coming round from a GA then risk being paralysed from an epidural.
    I wonder how many folk do read the consent form in detail, I doubt I would, I’d be so inpatient to get it over and done with.
    You’ve coped well with the pain, a morphine out of body experience sounds interesting though.

    I see Snowy is grown up quick ;-) LOL

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    • I did wonder what wd have happened with a real emergency. Yes they could have and did hold me over. But say a serious RTA? Or heart attack?

      I mean like who, who wants to watch themself under the knife? Seriously sick. I didn’t even look at the congealed after effects today. OP appt was not quite what I expected.

      Totally though. You die on the table, you know nothing. You watch yourself sliced from here to wherever and then can’t walk?.. Oh no.

      But it’s no good complaining after the event. Everyone should be aware of what is happening, one of my pet rants so I’ll shut up!

      I yelled today. Taking off the plaster was not good at all. Had I known, I would have been tramadolled up to the eyeballs.

      Snowy is a big boy for his size eh?

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  14. Wish I was there to make a video of everything – from beginning to end. LOL! I would have loved to see that medics face! Silly people. Of course you have to read through everything. Just because they know the ins and outs of all their stuff, doesn’t mean you do.

    For someone who had such a nasty accident and all the ‘yuckie stuff’ afterwards, you are truly an inspiration. Hubby once rushed me to hospital for bladder and kidney infection, but the service was so bad there – no doctor in sight and the one nurse that was supposed to give me something for the pain or whatever, was lying over one bed talking to another nurse cleaning. I lost my temper and walked out, and then they came rushing after me. Told them in no uncertain terms they can go to hell. Went to pharmacy and got some meds there and went home. The doctor called, very upset and after I told him what happened he wanted me to come back. Told him he can go with the nurse where I sent her.

    I am just glad you are okay and love the photo of Snowy. He is sooo adorable! Of course he is the innocent party. You should have seen him coming! There is something like ESP you know. LOL!

    Take care hon and big hugs to the little rat and Pippa and take some for yourself as well. :D ♥ Hugs ♥

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    • How did I forget to reply? Just as well I was busy scrolling down. No to videos. I still haven’t contacted the ambulance service to say I don’t want them using the video taken of me being collected and stretchered and writhing in agony.

      I wdnt say inspiration. But I did spend a lot of years working on patient information and patient rights, so it was important to me that I followed up what I was preaching. It’s just a bit harder doing it horizontally, immobile and defenceless from a hospital bed than it is from behind a desk wearing a suit. Your experience sounds horrific. Well done for taking action though.

      Little Rat is a funny one. I shd have been watching him instead of where I was going, and no doubt I would have fallen over something else 😏. Thanks.

      Like

  15. Oh, my!! What an ordeal this has turned out to be. I sure hope when they are all done with you your leg, ankle and foot is going to be okay. I would be sick of that hospital already if I were in your place. Wow and another two weeks! Hugs

    Like

  16. Just doing a bit of blog catch up after time away. Sorry to read about your accident – although as entertaining reading as every. Always something being thrown at us when we least expect or need it! Hope things sort themselves out and your recovery kicks in. Best wishes from down here.

    Like

    • Hiya MLB, good to hear from you. I seem to know half of SA these days. Slight exaggeration there. But you were still my first SA reader :) or commenter.

      Well, I’m catching up too after the hospital stay.

      If only I could use this plaster encased leg to kick a few people :D I’m sure that would help my recovery.

      Thanks very much and hope you are well too.

      Like

    • Safe. Not sure about sound.

      Although he’s not at work, for some reason dog walking and cooking is wearing him out. I may remind him of this when those duties revert to a two-legged roughseas. Thanks.

      Like

  17. I have read this three times now on different days and as a week has passed. Every time I look at your leg I can almost feel the pain. Like you I am the manger of my own health and I make informed decisions. I do not allow medics and others to make them for me. I need to know everything there is to know in advance. I read everything I can get my hands on and I ask so many questions that I exhaust and annoy those answering them.

    You gave us all quite an education here and it’s clear that flowing on the ceiling did not compromise your IQ … lol :D My health is not great. I already have long term issues with fibromylagia and two kinds of arthritis so I’m hoping you will be fortunate enough not to develop the former and maybe even that latter.

    I’m so sorry this happened to you. I hope you are feeling better and trust you are mending well. {HUG}

    Like

    • I know you find my comments a bit heavy, but I figured you’d read by your comment on Pippa’s.

      The worst pain was at the actual fall. I will write a post about pain, maybe on clouds though.

      The problem is that most people don’t even realise they have any rights. That they can question. Ask about alternatives.

      After ten years of working in the health service I know how little most people know, and yet others know lots – breast cancer patients are well informed.

      I’m aware of your health and truth is I know little about them, except they are chronic and damaging. There is something else from this accident, but I’m not sure I feel like publishing it.

      Right now, I’m taking everything day to day. Dealing with the practicalities and accepting what happens next. Without being told what to do. I’m sure that makes sense to you.

      Things happen. Felt like a nightmare, but nothing to do except go with it as I said to a wheelchair attendant today. A shock, but could have been worse. I’m leaving the painkillers alone whenever poss, so hoping to build up and recover healthily.

      Many thanks for your kind thoughts.

      Like

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