11 - More days

".. intensely emotional times."

Those early months after the move were recorded by two major social events; the celebration of my birthday in late June ... and our first wedding anniversary in July. Both were intensely emotional times. I felt lucky to be alive, having almost not made my 34th birthday. My wife and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary in my hospital room with the nurses and the hospital chaplain. They even bought us a cake!

Most newly married couples celebrate their first wedding anniversary with a holiday, a break away, wining and dining with gifts and cards, picturesque scenery or hot sun. Us? We celebrated ours in a hospital ward, my room view hardly an adequate setting, with my dressings being changed as part of the routine and our evening meal one brought to me from the common daily menu.

".. those things are difficult to steer and control.."

All the lengthy physio sessions in the gym had managed to develop my right arm muscles enough to use a one arm drive wheelchair over short distances. To say that those things are difficult to steer and control is an understatement! I can only compare driving them to being as inhebriated as a student with a pocket full of free money at Happy Hour, trying to manoeuvre a supermarket trolley through a series of a tight traffic cone assault courses for a free pint of beer.  For those that do not know how one of those'demon' contraptions functions, your good arm is in charge of all the forward motion, and in turning both left and right. "How is that possible?" I hear you grumble at your screens. Well, the wheel on your good arm side has two rings around it. To go straight, you have to drive both rings at the same time, to move left its the smaller one on its own and to go right, well, you work it out!

To get into my assigned chair was a task in itself. Whenever my wife and I wanted to get some fresh air or a change of scenery, a team of three nurses / physios were required to help me into my chair in the usual method of "spin and drag" from the bed. That was, at least, the manual version. On some occassions, a mechanical hoist was utilised to 'scoop' me off the bed in a giant sling (see picture below) and deposit me into the chair.

The hoist sling!

Many times, during those days, I reached serious depression. Seeing my wife leave me every night tore me to pieces, leaving me to my thoughts with the distraction of the TV attempting to drown out my sorrows and trying to find out which nurses I knew and could rely upon during the nightshift to come to my aid if I needed it. Being unable to even get off the bed proved frustrating enough but with an ileostomy that never ceased, never stopped filling the bag at my side, needing constant emptying, I needed to be able to rely on the able staff to help me.

"..another NHS issue was noted: staffing levels."

This was where another NHS issue was noted: staffing levels. Moving to a new hospital took its toll with 'natural wastage' when ward nurses could, prior to the move, apply for different departments . So, to make up the numbers on the ward and fill the deficit, "Bank Staff" where employed. Whilst this is a good idea for general care wards with common needs, Trauma wards can have a plethora of different conditions and patient needs which did not conform to the general occupational duties.

So, in my case, I had to see who was covering the night shift so I could ask for help with my ileostomy. Not being able to get out of bed to reach the emptying bowls, gloves and cleaning materials, nor was I able to bend my arm sufficiently enough on that side to aid in its maintenence, I became somewhat reliant on trusted individuals. Having to press my nurses call alarm in plenty of time, hoping for someone to come before the seal was 'blown loose' and causing a major clean up operation. It was part of the requirement for the nurses to answer room bells within 5 minutes. However, on some occassions after pressing for assistance,a Bank Nurse would arrive after 20 minutes and merely switch off the bell, promising to return and not coming back. Again, this was a result of the design of the hospital, the layout being conceived by non-medical practitioners which made it difficult to get to all the patients, coupled with the nature of the ward dependancies.

The stress of these anxieties all added up. Being in a state of perpetual alertness during the day, by the night I was mentally tired which was made all the more difficult by having a night shift of Bank Nurses on who were not aware of / had prior experience of someone with my injuries.