Hospitals and Incompetency
Discussion
This will be a long one folks, but it's nearly 2am and I'm in agony and need somewhere to vent/rant/discuss.
Last Sunday about 1400 I started to get some acute back pain near my shoulder blades. I tried a warm bath and an ice pack, but nothing shifted it. By the time the other half had come home I was rolling on the floor in agony, and about 1700 I'd had enough and called an ambulance. Ever noticed how they're really quick to attend unless you're in pain?!
Taken from Halstead to Colchester General, no pain relief in the bus as I have a naturally low heart rate so paramedics couldn't risk morphine. Got to hospital, even the ambulances were queuing and I had to wait 20 mins just to get assessed. To put the pain in context, it was like someone squeezing my spine with barbed wire, and even at 37 I was laying on the gurney in tears, sucking as much entenox as I could get (went through two cylinders in the end). Got assessed, poked my back looking for prolapsed disc near shoulder blades, nothing. When poking my front the doctor elicited a sharp bit of pain from under my RHS rib cage is not noticed, but my back was hurting so much that wasn't surprising. Didn't say anything of it.
10ml of morphine, 2mg of diazepam and a suppository of diclofenac later and everything seemed to settle down. Still uncomfy, but not in agony. Hospital gave me a bunch of co-codomol to take home but only one day of diazepam, as apparently that's their rules here. I was told to see my GP first thing Monday morning to get a week's supply.
Eventually get through to my GP, receptionist says that a phone conversation will do rather than an appointment. Not being keen to walk anywhere and happy to go with the system, I agree. Doc calls back about an hour later, nope can't do that on the phone, you'll have to come in. Right, okay. Receptionist calls back, no appointments until midday Tuesday so I'll be over 12 hours out if painkillers by then. Yay!
See my GP, never met her before and she was great, said it was stupid the hospital didn't give me more as she could see the pain I was in. Gave me a ton of diazepam, and some string things to replace the ibuprofen I was talking. Really helpful lady.
Then we fast forward to Friday morning, 0100.
I wake up in agony again, neck a diazepam out of sequence but I need something. Nothing. Take some co-codomol at 0300. Nothing. Leave it until 0400 as I didn't want to wake the missus and tue called the ambulance again. They decided to make me speak to a clinical supervisor first, so the ambulance was delayed by about 40mins. Once again, I'm laying in the floor crying my eyes out
This time I get morphine in the bus, but it's not really doing anything. 0530 and I'm being assessed, my cv more thorough than before, and again the doctor pokes my stomach. This time I nearly punch her in the face, so she goes to get an ultrasound machine & operator. The coolest guy ever comes back in with the machine (ignoring the obvious joke, he was really nice) and points out my gallbladder is inflamed and has 'sludge' under it. Stones or infection he says, time for an X-ray. Off I trot, X-ray done, saw a surgeon who had been on all night and looked exhausted, basically said they'll admit me and probably have to remove the GB. It's about 0800 at this point.
Now I'm transferred to a ward and it all falls apart. All I need is a simple ultrasound to confirm, but it's now done 0200 on Saturday and no-one has seen me. I'm NBM but still the nurses woke me to ask if I wanted food. The oral morphine isn't touching the pain, I asked at 1130 for something stronger but only got it at 0130 because there's only one doctor (still not seen him, I assume he looked at my notes and just prescribed there and then).
No-one is doing anything. I'm exhausted bu can't sleep because of the pain, I just want a simple scan to see where we go next. In a room with five other much older men: One guy KEEPS TALKING ON HIS PHONE, one guy in the corner is just chilling, one guy is at death's door and I feel dreadful for him, and two guys here are on forced air to help them breather. It sounds like Darth Vader being raped by helium balloon canisters. Not their fault, but there's two empty rooms on the ward so why not put them in there for the night?
Nurse turned my bedside light on and walked off, I can't reach it. Why didn't the doctor who found my GB pain on Sunday not follow it up? I found that weird at the time, but I'm no doctor so didn't say anything. Just lying here in acute pain (finally MTFU'd and stopped crying though
), just really stupid. If they couldn't find me space for an ultrasound all day Friday, what chance Saturday? I'm so fed up. If this had happened on Thursday I could've gone private as I have cover, but it's too late now.
And with all the co-codomol I've taken I've not had a sh*t in a week, and the laxative they came me has done nowt
Sorry folks, I'm just rambling. Just fed up of all this, it's just rubbish
Last Sunday about 1400 I started to get some acute back pain near my shoulder blades. I tried a warm bath and an ice pack, but nothing shifted it. By the time the other half had come home I was rolling on the floor in agony, and about 1700 I'd had enough and called an ambulance. Ever noticed how they're really quick to attend unless you're in pain?!
Taken from Halstead to Colchester General, no pain relief in the bus as I have a naturally low heart rate so paramedics couldn't risk morphine. Got to hospital, even the ambulances were queuing and I had to wait 20 mins just to get assessed. To put the pain in context, it was like someone squeezing my spine with barbed wire, and even at 37 I was laying on the gurney in tears, sucking as much entenox as I could get (went through two cylinders in the end). Got assessed, poked my back looking for prolapsed disc near shoulder blades, nothing. When poking my front the doctor elicited a sharp bit of pain from under my RHS rib cage is not noticed, but my back was hurting so much that wasn't surprising. Didn't say anything of it.
10ml of morphine, 2mg of diazepam and a suppository of diclofenac later and everything seemed to settle down. Still uncomfy, but not in agony. Hospital gave me a bunch of co-codomol to take home but only one day of diazepam, as apparently that's their rules here. I was told to see my GP first thing Monday morning to get a week's supply.
Eventually get through to my GP, receptionist says that a phone conversation will do rather than an appointment. Not being keen to walk anywhere and happy to go with the system, I agree. Doc calls back about an hour later, nope can't do that on the phone, you'll have to come in. Right, okay. Receptionist calls back, no appointments until midday Tuesday so I'll be over 12 hours out if painkillers by then. Yay!
See my GP, never met her before and she was great, said it was stupid the hospital didn't give me more as she could see the pain I was in. Gave me a ton of diazepam, and some string things to replace the ibuprofen I was talking. Really helpful lady.
Then we fast forward to Friday morning, 0100.
I wake up in agony again, neck a diazepam out of sequence but I need something. Nothing. Take some co-codomol at 0300. Nothing. Leave it until 0400 as I didn't want to wake the missus and tue called the ambulance again. They decided to make me speak to a clinical supervisor first, so the ambulance was delayed by about 40mins. Once again, I'm laying in the floor crying my eyes out
This time I get morphine in the bus, but it's not really doing anything. 0530 and I'm being assessed, my cv more thorough than before, and again the doctor pokes my stomach. This time I nearly punch her in the face, so she goes to get an ultrasound machine & operator. The coolest guy ever comes back in with the machine (ignoring the obvious joke, he was really nice) and points out my gallbladder is inflamed and has 'sludge' under it. Stones or infection he says, time for an X-ray. Off I trot, X-ray done, saw a surgeon who had been on all night and looked exhausted, basically said they'll admit me and probably have to remove the GB. It's about 0800 at this point.
Now I'm transferred to a ward and it all falls apart. All I need is a simple ultrasound to confirm, but it's now done 0200 on Saturday and no-one has seen me. I'm NBM but still the nurses woke me to ask if I wanted food. The oral morphine isn't touching the pain, I asked at 1130 for something stronger but only got it at 0130 because there's only one doctor (still not seen him, I assume he looked at my notes and just prescribed there and then).
No-one is doing anything. I'm exhausted bu can't sleep because of the pain, I just want a simple scan to see where we go next. In a room with five other much older men: One guy KEEPS TALKING ON HIS PHONE, one guy in the corner is just chilling, one guy is at death's door and I feel dreadful for him, and two guys here are on forced air to help them breather. It sounds like Darth Vader being raped by helium balloon canisters. Not their fault, but there's two empty rooms on the ward so why not put them in there for the night?
Nurse turned my bedside light on and walked off, I can't reach it. Why didn't the doctor who found my GB pain on Sunday not follow it up? I found that weird at the time, but I'm no doctor so didn't say anything. Just lying here in acute pain (finally MTFU'd and stopped crying though
), just really stupid. If they couldn't find me space for an ultrasound all day Friday, what chance Saturday? I'm so fed up. If this had happened on Thursday I could've gone private as I have cover, but it's too late now. And with all the co-codomol I've taken I've not had a sh*t in a week, and the laxative they came me has done nowt
Sorry folks, I'm just rambling. Just fed up of all this, it's just rubbish
Morning campers! Just found out I'll be here until Monday at least, morphine no longer touching the pain and it proper hurts to walk now. Doctor promised to come round this morning to update me, let's see when that's going to be shall we?!
At least one Darth Vader is on his way home today, might get a good night sleep tonight now. Might do.
At least one Darth Vader is on his way home today, might get a good night sleep tonight now. Might do.
Thanks man, appreciate that. Really sorry to hear about your wife, that must've been awful for her
There's some nice friendly people here in terms of staff, but just a massive lack of communication between both staff and patients. And some just seem not to give a toss, and it's the elderly guys in here I feel really bad for.
There's some nice friendly people here in terms of staff, but just a massive lack of communication between both staff and patients. And some just seem not to give a toss, and it's the elderly guys in here I feel really bad for.
Don't blame you, it was a fair old wall of text!
Just had the second ultrasound, massive gallstone blocking the exit to the bladder. Def going to have to come out in a few months when it's settled, but will be here a few more days yet.
Asked the hot nurse how often I could have IV morphine, she started counting on her fingers and just walked off. Couldn't make it up if I tried. Consultant was helpful though.
The old guy dying across from me has a crap morning, he can barely see as he's near enough blind, had an African nurse who he couldn't understand because he's near enough deaf too, then when someone bought him prorridge for breakfast they didn't return to actually feed it to him for 20 mins by the time it was cold. He only wanted a bit of toast to go with it, I don't think he ever got that. That's no way to treat the elderly, seems like a genuinely nice chap too from the conversations we've had.
Just had the second ultrasound, massive gallstone blocking the exit to the bladder. Def going to have to come out in a few months when it's settled, but will be here a few more days yet.
Asked the hot nurse how often I could have IV morphine, she started counting on her fingers and just walked off. Couldn't make it up if I tried. Consultant was helpful though.
The old guy dying across from me has a crap morning, he can barely see as he's near enough blind, had an African nurse who he couldn't understand because he's near enough deaf too, then when someone bought him prorridge for breakfast they didn't return to actually feed it to him for 20 mins by the time it was cold. He only wanted a bit of toast to go with it, I don't think he ever got that.
That's no way to treat the elderly, seems like a genuinely nice chap too from the conversations we've had. Update, I eventually got my scan and there's a lovely big gallstone sat there ready to go. Now can I get it out before LM this year? I really hope so. Seeing the thing there hits home as I can see what it's actually like. Horrible thing. Can't wait to get out of here and go private on Monday.
Moving over today now, approval all been given, still in agony when the morphine machine broke down but otherwise im okay now. Seems like a vastly different team here at weekends, less actual doctors but people are getting seem to be working well as a team which is nice to see.
I still think my initial treatment was absolute garbage, but it's all good now and my fellow ward sharers are comfortable at least.
I still think my initial treatment was absolute garbage, but it's all good now and my fellow ward sharers are comfortable at least.
Thanks for the kind words chaps. Apologies for the lack of updates, been a bit hectic.
I'm still in hospital, although thankfully not Colchester General. I transferred Sunday to the Oaks, a Ramsey facility across the road. Disturbing lack of knowledge the CG end regarding the transfer, as I thought I'd make it easier for everyone and ask my wife to drop me off instead of someone having to arrange an ambulance. Oaks said they could admit me from 1600 (not an issue), however CG never gave me that time so I worked on the basis I'd leave about 1430, to clear the lunch rush to make CG staff life easier. Come 1400 I'm dressed, ready to go but still hooked up to morphine. An hour later and someone finds the 2'47" required (I'm sad, I timed it lol) to disconnect me. I get a ton of paperwork, assume it's all there and go.
What surprised me was the reaction of both staff and more so patients to finding out I was going private. Staff became abrupt and dismissive of my needs, and my fellow patients, who I'd built a good rapport with by having chats and buying papers for during scans etc, suddenly stopped talking to me once I'd made the phonecall (in the ward, nowhere private to go) to the insurer confirming I was going private. It's like there's this massive stigma against private care, despite the fact I'm freeing an NHS bed and resources up for someone else. It was like I'd just p*ssed in their slippers. Why? I said goodbye to everyone as I left, wishing them all to get better soon, got one muffled response back from the guy opposite who also had gallstones funnily enough.
Is it not socially acceptable to have private cover? I don't know. My missus heard Other Gallstone Man's wife whispering to him as we left "Where's he going? You were here first! What, he's going private? We can do that! Who do I speak to? Nope, I want that too, how much is it?"
Anyway, no surprises treatment much better here, not just in obvious terms of facilities but staff are friendly, polite, acknowledgeable, just nice. They're still flat out, looks like staff numbers have been reduced and this week they've just started a new rota system, but a smile goes a long way.
Still in pain, still hooked up to auto morphine, still no idea on going home, but the surgeon is here talking to me daily and I know this is part of the process. It's okay, the body can only heal itself so quick
I'm still in hospital, although thankfully not Colchester General. I transferred Sunday to the Oaks, a Ramsey facility across the road. Disturbing lack of knowledge the CG end regarding the transfer, as I thought I'd make it easier for everyone and ask my wife to drop me off instead of someone having to arrange an ambulance. Oaks said they could admit me from 1600 (not an issue), however CG never gave me that time so I worked on the basis I'd leave about 1430, to clear the lunch rush to make CG staff life easier. Come 1400 I'm dressed, ready to go but still hooked up to morphine. An hour later and someone finds the 2'47" required (I'm sad, I timed it lol) to disconnect me. I get a ton of paperwork, assume it's all there and go.
What surprised me was the reaction of both staff and more so patients to finding out I was going private. Staff became abrupt and dismissive of my needs, and my fellow patients, who I'd built a good rapport with by having chats and buying papers for during scans etc, suddenly stopped talking to me once I'd made the phonecall (in the ward, nowhere private to go) to the insurer confirming I was going private. It's like there's this massive stigma against private care, despite the fact I'm freeing an NHS bed and resources up for someone else. It was like I'd just p*ssed in their slippers. Why? I said goodbye to everyone as I left, wishing them all to get better soon, got one muffled response back from the guy opposite who also had gallstones funnily enough.
Is it not socially acceptable to have private cover? I don't know. My missus heard Other Gallstone Man's wife whispering to him as we left "Where's he going? You were here first! What, he's going private? We can do that! Who do I speak to? Nope, I want that too, how much is it?"
Anyway, no surprises treatment much better here, not just in obvious terms of facilities but staff are friendly, polite, acknowledgeable, just nice. They're still flat out, looks like staff numbers have been reduced and this week they've just started a new rota system, but a smile goes a long way.
Still in pain, still hooked up to auto morphine, still no idea on going home, but the surgeon is here talking to me daily and I know this is part of the process. It's okay, the body can only heal itself so quick
Also, funny/awkward story from my last day at CG...
All of us on the ward minding our own business (this is pre-moving notification), the odd chat here and there or someone having a dressing changed. The old guy who was right in the corner, been practically unconscious for two days and he's on my side so I can't even see him to chat with normally, suddenly gets up and grabs his walking frame, and starts heading out the ward. Clearly in discomfort, I gave the roughly 70 year-old a simple cordial head nod as he gets level with my bed to acknowledge him, when a nurse comes over to him. Right in front of bed, remember that.
"Mr Smith, are you okay? What are you doing out of bed? Where are you going?"
"I've had an accident, need to get to the bathroom..." he whimpers.
Oh poor guy, he's wet himself and tried to get away without telling anyone. Bad enough at any age, when you're old it must be mortifying. Poor chap, I think.
"Go sit back down, I'll have someone come over to help you change, don't worry", says the nurse. "Wait what's that I'll over your hands...?"
I look. Then the smell hits me, like a tidal wave of badness, burning my retinas.
"It wasn't a wee", the poor old guy moans. He's proper pooed himself, but not diarrhoea, then shoved his hands in his jammies to push it back in until he makes the toilet. Suddenly, in a spot of perfect comic timing, as he finishes his sentence and my brain clocks what has happened, he shakes a trouser leg and a muffin-sized lump of poo shuts drops its way to the floor, rolls slightly, then stops. Oh sh*t.
What happens next is excruciating. The nurse sees this, she can't leave this nugget on the floor so dives to the counter to grab some cloth. The old guy is there alone. He's at the end of my bed. I've seen everything. Dear god, please no... ARGH WE'VE MADE EYE CONTACT! Now what do I do, ignore it? Carry on reading my kindle? Oh man, I'm not that kind of person, I can't: This old guy is absolutely mortified, he's never done this in his life, he needs support. Come on Dan, take one for the team.
"Oh don't worry about it, it's nothing my friend. It happens to the best of us, can't be helped [where's that bloody nurse??]. Nothing to ever be ashamed of, sometimes it just happens when we're ill [argh still no nurse, gonna have to do it...], let me tell you about the time it happened to me when I was laying in bed next to the wife"
Literally the only way my brain could try and make this old chap know I can genuinely empathise with his predicament is now to tell the story to a bunch of strangers about how I too once sh*t the bed, and had to tell the wife NOT TO MOVE AT ALL whilst I got up to fetch some clean sheets after a night on the beer. I don't mind telling strangers on the internet, but telling strangers in real life is a little uncomfortable. Still, it seemed to genuinely relax the guy, then the nurse came back and took over. Which was good, as I was running out of poo stories.
Why did he have to pause right in front of my bed, then shake a leg and roll a gentle lil' lump across the hallway? I hate hospitals
All of us on the ward minding our own business (this is pre-moving notification), the odd chat here and there or someone having a dressing changed. The old guy who was right in the corner, been practically unconscious for two days and he's on my side so I can't even see him to chat with normally, suddenly gets up and grabs his walking frame, and starts heading out the ward. Clearly in discomfort, I gave the roughly 70 year-old a simple cordial head nod as he gets level with my bed to acknowledge him, when a nurse comes over to him. Right in front of bed, remember that.
"Mr Smith, are you okay? What are you doing out of bed? Where are you going?"
"I've had an accident, need to get to the bathroom..." he whimpers.
Oh poor guy, he's wet himself and tried to get away without telling anyone. Bad enough at any age, when you're old it must be mortifying. Poor chap, I think.
"Go sit back down, I'll have someone come over to help you change, don't worry", says the nurse. "Wait what's that I'll over your hands...?"
I look. Then the smell hits me, like a tidal wave of badness, burning my retinas.
"It wasn't a wee", the poor old guy moans. He's proper pooed himself, but not diarrhoea, then shoved his hands in his jammies to push it back in until he makes the toilet. Suddenly, in a spot of perfect comic timing, as he finishes his sentence and my brain clocks what has happened, he shakes a trouser leg and a muffin-sized lump of poo shuts drops its way to the floor, rolls slightly, then stops. Oh sh*t.
What happens next is excruciating. The nurse sees this, she can't leave this nugget on the floor so dives to the counter to grab some cloth. The old guy is there alone. He's at the end of my bed. I've seen everything. Dear god, please no... ARGH WE'VE MADE EYE CONTACT! Now what do I do, ignore it? Carry on reading my kindle? Oh man, I'm not that kind of person, I can't: This old guy is absolutely mortified, he's never done this in his life, he needs support. Come on Dan, take one for the team.
"Oh don't worry about it, it's nothing my friend. It happens to the best of us, can't be helped [where's that bloody nurse??]. Nothing to ever be ashamed of, sometimes it just happens when we're ill [argh still no nurse, gonna have to do it...], let me tell you about the time it happened to me when I was laying in bed next to the wife"
Literally the only way my brain could try and make this old chap know I can genuinely empathise with his predicament is now to tell the story to a bunch of strangers about how I too once sh*t the bed, and had to tell the wife NOT TO MOVE AT ALL whilst I got up to fetch some clean sheets after a night on the beer. I don't mind telling strangers on the internet, but telling strangers in real life is a little uncomfortable. Still, it seemed to genuinely relax the guy, then the nurse came back and took over. Which was good, as I was running out of poo stories.
Why did he have to pause right in front of my bed, then shake a leg and roll a gentle lil' lump across the hallway? I hate hospitals
Gassing Station | Health Matters | Top of Page | What's New | My Stuff