Hospital food and a police raid...

Hospital food. The mere thought of it strikes terror into my alimentary canal. Having spent a couple of weeks in hospital recently I can attest that hospital food is not exactly cordon bleu. Breakfast was a choice of soggy cereal or soggy toast and a cuppa. Lunch, a prepacked sandwich or a bowl of soup. But the finest cuisine was saved for dinner. Several times I had a plate with some brown stuff, green stuff and, a sort of, cream-coloured stuff. Yum!  I wondered if it was deliberate in an attempt to, either, kill patients off or get them to go home as soon as their taste buds start working again. I was not surprised that the guy in the bed next to mine was constantly stuffing his face with bag after bag of crisps. Indeed, I did cheat one day and send a friend down to Subway to get me a wrap with lots of chicken and salad in. I didn't think it would be appropriate to have a steak  & cheese while recovering from heart surgery.

I'm not sure about STD chicken...

I since heard that the government have drafted in Prue Leith to help sort out hospital food. Didn't they draft in Heston Blumenthal a few years ago, how did that work out? Obviously not well otherwise we would have decent hospital food. I don't understand why the government doesn't employ those with skill and experience in feeding lots of people. The Army Catering Corps. Surely those who can feed thousands on a battlefield a hot, filling meal can sort out this problem. 

Along with filling yourself up, there is the issue of getting yourself empty. Now, nurses seem obsessed with bowel opening. Every time they came round with the medication they asked everyone if they had opened their bowels. I was determined not to use a bedpan. Not dignified.  I would lie and say yes each time. Unfortunately, they are wise to this and kept giving me laxatives anyway. In the end, you have no choice. The pressure built up so high that I had no choice. I could've easily hosed down the whole ward. Not fun. I am sure that the nurses get used to it, but I was feeling a little sorry for myself at that point, especially when I was still going ½  an hour later...

As for the police raid, well, we were all by the window watching as several police vehicles came screaming into the hospital grounds and slid to a halt outside the Eye Unit. Coppers jumped out and ran inside. We watched for ages but saw no one come out. Disappointing. We would see the Air Ambulance landing but that wasn't excitement, for that to be landing here meant someone was having a really bad day. 

There's not a lot funny happening in hospitals. They've even changed the nurses' outfits to be more practical so I can't make any sexist comments about those. Although I still flirted shamelessly with them when I could. One poor nurse, a bloke, had the unenviable task of checking my backside for pressure sores. You've got to feel sorry for him! You can imagine them drawing straws for that job. 

Now I am home, I have been sat around at home for weeks, slowly building up my strength by walking every day and working my way through Netflix. No one can understand my burning desire to get back to work, although I think that my boss and my team will be glad to see me. 

I still have to attend the Heart Failure clinic, can't they give it a better name?? and cardiac rehab. The insurance company has paid out for our Canada trip that had to be cancelled, so we can go and rebook that for next year. Things are starting to look brighter. Apart from the fact that I have nearly finished Netflix...

Regards

Giant68 :-)

When did we become so impatient and so unconcerned with the plight of our fellow man? Or is this an attitude that we have always had, waiting inside, ready to spring out?
Having spent a couple of weeks in hospital I have seen some amazing behaviours, some good, look at what our surgeons and nurses do, and some bad as shown by Joe Public. I was tempted to make this blog a funny one, lets face it, the last couple were nothing to laugh about, but I thought about what I  had seen and decided that human behaviour is nothing to laugh about. Humans are selfish, out for what we can get for ourselves.
I was amazed, while being pushed around in wheelchairs and beds while in hospital, the number of people who won't give way or will barge through, almost forcing the porter to run them over with said bed or wheelchair. The worst was when I was recovering from the operation. It was only a couple of days after having my chest cracked open, but the medics like to get you on your feet quick, it helps your recovery, and a physiotherapist came to see me. She got me up and off we went. Now at this point, I am not very steady and the physio is supporting me as we stroll through the corridors. At one point we came across a group of people coming towards us. At the narrowest point in the corridor they forced their way past me, pushing me into the wall. If I had been fully fit they would have bounced off of me, or I would have punched someone. But no, they carried on without an apology.

And one night I actually told a healthcare worker to fuck off. I know, bad language from me, who'd have thought it?
I am not sure that she was a nurse, wrong colour uniform. But she was doing work that I would have thought a nurse would do. She looked like an ageing European drag queen, a cross between Sticky Vicky and Danny La Rue, bandy-legged with blond nylon hair and a better moustache than mine. Apart from not being able to stop a pig in a passageway, she was a bit impatient. Having just fallen asleep one night, she decided that she would update everyone's patient notes. The notes were in folders wedged in at the bottom of the bed. Me, being a bit of a big fellow, filled the bed and my feet were across the notes. I had also just fallen asleep, and if you have ever been in hospital you will know how hard it is t get to sleep. Along comes Helga and shoves my feet out of the way to get the notes out. Now I am awake.
About 5am I decide I have to go to the loo, the pressure on my bladder has got too bad to ignore anymore. So off I go. This is not an easy trip as getting in and out of bed when you have had open-heart surgery is not an easy process. To start with, you can not use your arms to push yourself up, you have a sternum that held together with a bit of stainless steel wire and you don't want the bomb bay doors to burst open. Anyway, off I go to the loo. I do the business and head back to the ward. Helga is now following me down the corridor, pushing the weighing chair, and is anxious to get past. "Excuse me, I need to get past!" My, my, she is impatient, "Sorry love, you are going to the same place as me so you can wait" I totter back to the ward and start the process of getting back into bed, almost as hard as getting out. She decides that as I am awake she may as well take my weight. Why she didn't ask before I started getting back into bed, I have no idea. I refused to sit in the chair until she put the brakes on, she tutted at me then. Now the process of getting up, whether it is from bed or a chair, is to start rocking back and forth to build up a bit of momentum, then using legs only push up while hugging a rolled-up towel to your chest. This stops you from using your hands to push up and keeps the rib cage reasonably stable. When I did this to get up she decided to help by putting her hands under my arms and lifting. Painful. That's when I used some inappropriate language, for which I do not apologise. I feel that anybody working in a cardiac care ward should understand what has happened to the patients in it.
It was odd that I never seemed to see the same nurse twice. It was as if there was no consistency in the care given. When I was given the all-clear to go home it took twice as long to get out as different nurses were trying to find things out and not coming back to me. 'Why are you not wearing a Post Thorax vest?' I was asked several times. To which I responded with 'I don't know. No one has told me to wear one or, indeed, given me one to wear.' The nurse would then go to find out why I wasn't wearing one and not come back. Eventually, 2 days later, a nurse did come back, with a vest, and I escaped.
Don't get me wrong, these bad experiences are only a small part of the whole. The majority of the people who work in the NHS are dedicated professionals who give far more than their fair share to look after the patients in their care. The surgeons who cut me open and restored my failing body are phenomenal. The nurses who followed them are heroes. I couldn't do what they do. I refuse to get drawn into the politics of their pay and health service funding, but they deserve far more than they get. All they can have from me is my undying gratitude.

I will try and write a funny one next time.

Regards
Giant68

PS: considering I had a quintuple bypass after 3 heart attacks, I am hoping to go back to work at the end of this month. So I am doing ok, just in case you cared.