Bloody Whinger!!!

I’m not happy.

I’m fed up.

I’m over it.

I’m pissed off.

I’ve had way more than enough and last night just topped it off. Somehow the relationship between Doctor, Nurse and Patient has morphed in such a way that I’m now continually winding myself up, thinking about the situation I’m in. When the infection started, almost two weeks ago, I was the victim and because the hospital had stuffed up, everyone I came into contact with was very considerate and supportive and I was convinced that all the speed bumps would be flattened out and we would just get on with it. Now, I get the distinct impression that the constant stream of ever-changing nurses looking after me are all treating me as if I’m the problem.

What am I doing here?

Why am I still on this ward?

When I was self-medicating, before coming to this hospital, everything was under control. A simple cocktail of Panadol and Ibuprofen and I was managing everything ok. Now, I’m getting, Panadol (restricted), Ibuprofen (restricted), Tramadol in two different forms, Severadol, something to thin my blood which I can never remember the name of and buckets and buckets of Antibiotics. I wonder why I feel lousy all the time? But, I think my real problem is, because they’re restricting the Panadol and Ibuprofen the pain gets worse more quickly and I’ll take anything they offer to make it go away.

Anyway, yesterday I was sitting in my bedside chair, being a good little patient, and into the room charged this person, who I’d never seen before, and announced that she was one of the Infectious Disease Control Doctors. In a very loud and demanding voice, she asked to see the infection site, and the PICC line site, then announced that I had damaged skin and that this might be the reason for me getting the infection. I think as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized what she'd said and before I could say anything, she quickly assured me that wasn’t why I had become infected. Then she did an about face and charged off out of the room. You might imagine, this interaction left me feeling pretty special, and the more I dwelt on it through the day the more pissed off I became.

My Little Corner of the World

So, I want to tell you about last night. I’m in a four bed ward that seems to act as some sort of day surgery clearing house. Every afternoon/night they bring patients in, that as a rule, seem to stay overnight and get discharged the following day. I’m not sure why I’m in that particular ward. I’ve asked a couple of people and received vague replies that tell me the person I’m asking doesn’t really know. Or care. Sometimes these patients are brought in around six o’clock and other times around ten o’clock. Because my bed is furthest from the door, around seven o'clock I tend to pull the curtains around the bed closed to create some semblance of privacy, but leave the curtain that covers the window to the atrium open and set myself up at the little meal table they provide for the bed. 

View From My Bed

I’m sure this isn’t helping. I sit and stew and think of ways to reinforce the injustice of it all. I didn’t stuff up. Why am I the one paying the price? There’s nowhere else to go. There are no lounges or even places where you can actually view the outside world, ‘cause the ward goes into lockdown at eight o’clock. They have a Whanau room that has a row of really uncomfortable chairs and TV mounted too high on the opposite wall, but this is most times inhabited by some other patient’s family members, who probably couldn’t find, or afford, accommodation close by. I try to distract myself with movies, music, books and computer games, but this is becoming less and less effective. So tonight I'm trying to distract myself by having a whinge.

Back to last night. I’m hiding in my little cubbyhole and they wheel in a couple of patients. No problem. The staff spend a bit of time sorting things out getting organised and then off they go. I think things are going to settle down when one of the guys starts to cough and spit. Next thing, the light come on and he takes himself off to the bathroom where we listen to him clear out his throat and nose. Then he comes back and gets into bed and settles down again and the light goes out. This little episode is repeated at fairly regular intervals throughout the night (why does he have to turn the light on each time?) until just before three when a team of doctors and nurses turn up. They start examining this guy and talking to him as if the problem is in his ears.

Why do Health Professionals speak so loudly to patients? Hasn’t anyone ever explained to them that speaking loudly doesn’t lead to a clearer understanding. 

After about half an hour of this they decided to wheel him off into the night.

“Great”, I think as I try once again to settle down.

Five minutes later and they wheel in some other dude. This one decides he’s going to lie in bed, with the light on, Facetime someone and have a chat in Chinese.

“Enough”. I ring the bell for the nurse and ask her to ask him to get off the phone. What does he do? He decides to talk in whispers. So, I do the unthinkable. I march over to his little area, push the curtain back, point at my watch and tell him to be quiet.

You can probably tell, by this time (4:30 am.), I’m not really in the right frame of mind to sleep, but after awhile things quieten down and… his light comes on. He’s decided he’s going to read his tablet – with the light on.

This goes on until the Nurse comes in at 6:00am to start my IV again. So, I have breakfast, have a shower, and when I come out, my little mate across the way is sound asleep and snoring his head off.

That’s when I started writing this.

It’s now eight o’clock at night and, tonight I have three people sharing the ward. One is my little mate from last night who decided it was a good idea to Facetime at three in the morning and then read through the rest of the night on his tablet with the light on, and one of the others is an older gentleman who’s in for a procedure tomorrow morning. He also has sleep apnoea and uses a very noisy breathing machine. Did you know people who use these machines also snore?

Guess what I’m going to be listening to all night.

Now, at this point I have a choice. I can wind myself up again and start growling at the night staff and making a dick of myself. Or, as my youngest daughter would say, I can suck it up, try to get my head down and act like a civilized adult. Because I don’t like myself when I’m angry I’m gonna try for the second option. Wish me luck.

At the end of all these posts, I’ve included trite sayings about kindness. I do believe it’s something that’s missing in the world today, and I‘d like to think I’m able to “practice what I preach”.

I guess we’ll know in the morning.