On the Health and in the Ward

Looking back on it the three days in a NHS ward in St John's Livingstone, had its moments. Some not too good. Some entertaining. The Nurses are a lovely bunch and from the same kindly mould. All Scots as it happens.

' I am going to take your blood pressure. Alright?' ' Time for your Medicine. Alright' 'I am going to stick this needle hard into your bum. Alright? (The last did not happen, but dream on) And finally' That's you then' It was indeed.
Or the cheery floor manager-7am Monday- Bursting into 'Hullo, How are you all this bright, beautiful, wonderful day. What a way to start the week. Come on then lets hear you. Good Morning. What do you say? No not you two (indicating the two patients recovering from serious throat surgery) I know you lot can't speak. But the rest of you-good morning!. It could be worse'

I am sure my neighbour in bed number three did not agree. He had been wheeled in on Sunday morning. Groaning, snuffling and immobile. Not post op, just a new admission. He looked seriously stocious after a long night on the town; but why an ENT ward? On arrival bed number 4 (The nosebleed from Burtonport in County Donegal) had bounced over to address the new comer, now flat on his back, dribbling slightly and moaning softly. ' Are you well?' (no response) 'If not, are you feeling better? (no response). Long hard look: 'Is it the smoking? (he had just been given a lecture by a consultant about nose bleeds and heavy tobacco intake) No response' 'Is it the drinking then?' There must have been some indication of assent:' ' Ah!. The Drinking. I know all about the Drinking. The divil is in it' A groan and end of snappy dialogue. It may have given Nosebleed, some food for thought as he had cheerfully told the consultant that he hardly indulged at all-just a social drinker. Perhaps a bottle and a half of whisky over a slow week end to keep his friends company. Apart from that I am 'dry enough'; most of the time, at any rate, I suppose.'

Six beds, two occupied by two non speaking, nil by mouth, Throats. Bed Three: the stocious one, Four: the Nose bleed, and to my left, Bed one, a transient facility which had three ins and outs, pre and post ops during my three days. All this did not make for sparking company. And my last night was made unbearable by the latest transient, who snored for Scotland and had apparently just missed Gold at the last Commonwealth games. Snoreing and curling, The Scots are world beaters. I stuffed my ears with tissue, slept under two pillows, bed clothes over my head. It all came through loud and clear; mono not stereo admittedly but clear enough. He kept waking up with a loud snort but soon settled down again and there was nothing that the nurses could do which stopped him for more than ten minutes. A few minutes with a heavy pillow would have done the trick. Next time perhaps.

A moment of sheer delight. Or was it? Lying on my bed contemplating the night to come, the Large Highland Lass started her night shift. Built like the entire Scottish back row, although Front Row Forward would be a more apt description of her attributes, she bustled her way around the ward being nice to everyone in a very overpowering way. Suggesting a bath here, a wash your teeth there, a have you taken your pills everywhere. She stood by my bed, and closing the curtains asked 'Shall I help you on with your pajamas?' For a moment I hesitated' *

* Now come on, This is a family blog.



Its good to be home

Labels: Bloody Nose, NHS

  ¶ 10:35 AM