You hear a lot about problems within the NHS, but I can honestly say my recent stay in the Freeman hospital was more like visiting a hotel. Well, maybe not quite a hotel, in that I had to share a room with 3 or 4 other people, perhaps a Youth Hostel would be a better description.
I was only getting a lump of bone sliced off the top of my foot - something which had been a bit of a problem for about a year - and was initially quite surprised that it was going to mean 3 days in hospital. Scheduled for September, I was starting to have a few misgivings, as not being able to fly for 3 months and having to take 6 weeks off work would apparently be the immediate after effects of the operation, potentially jeopardising a planned trip to Oxford in October.
My initial appointment with the consultant, Mr Siddique, was towards the end of May and I accepted the 4 month wait as fairly reasonable for a non-urgent and non-essential operation. As it happened, I was offered a cancellation a couple of days before going on holiday in July, which I wasn't able to take advantage of as I hadn't prepared anyone for the possibility that this might happen. However, I made sure after that if another opportunity arose I would be in a position to accept - there's never a good time to have an operation, but it seemed preferable to get this out of the way as soon as I could.
I did indeed get another phone call and arranged to take the necessary time off work (which would all be unpaid and a bit worrying financially). Derek drove me to the hospital on the Wednesday morning, after a quick phone call had ascertained there was still a bed. Dropping me off at the main entrance, we were reminded of the airport, the entrance and the activity being remarkably similar - walking through the doors with my case, I could have been checking in for a flight. The admission procedure was fairly painless and I was soon installed in the ward, which was comfortable, with ensuite facilities and 4 lively, with-it companions (a rarity for a hospital environment!).
My first day in hospital was one I'd been looking forward to enormously. A whole day in bed, with nothing to do but catch up on some sleep and read! The reality was a constant stream of doctors, nurses, anaesthetists, menus to fill in etc etc. I have never had so much attention lavished on me! I was weighed, measured, questioned, given forms to sign, asked to give blood and urine samples, choose meals and written up for the various medications I'd need. Blood pressure, temperature, oxygen saturation and pulse were measured - not in the way I'd last experienced. It's all done electronically these days, with digital readouts. Your temperature is not taken by sticking a thermometer under your tongue - instead it's pen like instrument which is stuck in your ear until it beeps! One suggestion I was glad I'd listened to was Sandra's advice to wear pyjamas rather than a nightie. A doctor herself, she'd seen many ward rounds where a consultant's request to "feel your tummy" when doing a ward round, made a patient wearing no knickers feel highly embarrassed! At least with pyjamas, I'd part in the middle. I was sure this would be neither here nor there for a foot operation, but sure enough, I was given an all over examination by one doctor and was indeed grateful for the pyjamas!
The day of the operation saw me starved from the night before and after a cup of tea at 6am, that was it for drinks! I was zonked from the pre-med by the time I was taken down to theater and stacked in a queue to be anaesthetized. After the op, they take you to the recovery ward for a while, which is something else! A true hospital ward from hell, everyone is delirious because they've only just surfaced from the anaesthetic and my memory of it is of a surreal semi-dream. I remember asking where my locker had gone, to be reminded I wasn't back on the ward! The man next to me was being sick and a nurse was rushing around to bring an anti-nausea injection to put in the IV line they leave stuck on the back of your hand. It took about 6 nurses to calm and control one youngster who appeared to be very distressed and another woman insisted on trying to climb out of bed, despite being attached to various drips and drains.
Back on the ward I was fairly comfortable, as a local anaesthetic block had been injected into my ankle, which I was told would last the best part of 24 hours. Just a well, as the consultant's idea of "powerful pain relief" was not how I would have described the two paracetamol and ONE dihydrocodeine he very generously wrote me up for.
The following day I was back home late afternoon, hobbling around on crutches, my foot bandaged up and with stitches which will come out in a fortnight, the physios satisfied that I would manage to cope in the house. Since then I have done little else but spend time on the computer, specifically forums and IRC. The weather is gorgeous and I resent the fact that this ought to have been my holiday, where I'd have been sunbathing on the beach at Embleton! However, maybe I've fared better than Derek who on the day I was admitted to hospital, endured his own private hell courtesy of his dentist, who had for some reason decided he needed 5 crowns done all at once. Five injections and an hour and a half of drilling later, he had 5 temporary crowns which have since fallen off at a rate of about 2 a day. He's now frightened to eat anything other than soft mush, until the permanent crowns are fitted in a fortnight - perhaps the inevitable weight loss will be some compensation!
Whilst enjoyment is perhaps not the word I would use to describe the overall experience, it was certainly made as painless as possible and the nurses couldn't be faulted. They were always pleasant and cheerful and couldn't do enough for you. The hospital was comfortable, efficient and frankly, I fail to see what more private health care could have offered. If I have one quibble, it is that my bed was right next to the television, which if it was on loud enough for the whole ward to listen to, was rather overwhelming from my bed!
14th August 2003