Stay out of Hospitals - a person could get sick there!

Stay out of Hospitals: A Person Could Get Sick There!

When the pain of an advanced herniated disk compounds with the pain of the constipation produced from shut down of normal bodily functions caused by the drugs given to fight the back problem leading to a shutdown of urinary function to the point where you don’t feel you have to urinate but contain 1.5 liters of urine in the bladder… start swearing as loud as you can and call an ambulance! It’s going to be a long night!

After the operation I woke up in a strange planet… I looked up and the ceiling of the recovery room—a vast landing area for alien space ships. I was the only person in this huge room that normally housed 20 ships. They were gone at the moment, probably off to some space war with the landing pads looking all the same. I wanted to leave and join them to do my duty but someone was holding me down with a huge arm on my throat so I couldn’t leave to fight with them. I twist and struggle to free myself and I… I… wake up! A sudden breath of air like a swimmer from being 60 seconds underwater.

I had sleep apnea and every time I woke up conscious again with a new breath of air to regain my bearings in the room, another completely different dream would begin to pull me down, down again into the depths of countless dream worlds and I was defenseless to resist. I remained in this bizarre state for many hours longer than normal. The attending nurse could do little to help me except augmenting my air supply with fresh oxygen piped in through my nostrils.

When I was delivered to my room after the post operation period, I discovered I was connected to three plastic pipes and was being asked every 15 minutes: “On a scale of 1 to 10 how is your pain level?” This one sentence would always bring me back from whatever dream planet I had drifted to, as I had to think for the answer. I started with an 8 out of 10 and thankfully over the next few days I was able to lower the number to around the 3-4 level where it remains as I write this. I didn’t notice for a day or two that I no view and could see nothing of the sunny days or mountains out the windows.

Privacy is very important in a hospital as the rooms now are filled on an as needed basis and there were two ladies and two men in my room when I got there. It is interesting to see the stress fractures in the system we have known and been used to for many years.

Beside me was the classic “grumpy old man” whom grumbling and complaining were second nature to. He found nothing he liked in food, service, doctors, specialists or anything else that went on day or night. He treated the nurses like servants that should come often and stay long and put up with whatever he dished out. I was amazed at how patient he was.

He did however suddenly turn into a totally articulate angel when family arrived. After a cordial visit he would revert to his old grumpy self, calling the nurse to continue to make a fuss. He had his radio turned on full blast through his earphones 24 hours a day and this irritated me to no end. It was rather like hearing a mosquito in the tent when you’re camping that you can’t see while trying to sleep. To save money our government decided to hire the lowest bidder for cleaners on contract with the hospital. I had heard about this but only after seeing feces on a wall above the toilet paper rack of our bathroom, did I understand. After seeing it there for three days I quietly mentioned it to a nurse and she ended up cleaning it herself quoting the old phrase as she left: “If you want something done….”

When I was 15, I had a serious appendix operation and found myself on the same 7th floor where there was no one my age in the whole floor. After a week or so I started to find creative ways to occupy my time. I remember hating the food I was given with a passion. By this time I knew every inch of the east wing and decided to play a little trick on the kitchen staff in the basement. I made a make shift sign from surgical tape and on it I wrote: “PLEASE CANCEL ALL FOOD TO THE 7TH FLOOR—IT SUCKS” I placed the make-shift sign the inside of the dumb waiter that brings the trays to each floor and raced back to my room. That afternoon I sat in bed wondering if my prank had been discovered. The nurses didn’t say a thing so I knew I was in the clear.

At dinner time the cart with the trays came to my room and my tray plunked before me by someone in a kitchen outfit. Under the heating lid on the dinner plate, was my sign, complete with knife and fork, salt and pepper and a napkin.

I remembered this story when I looked at the dumb waiter on one of my walks and chuckled to myself as I walked by. All these years later it still hasn’t improved a bit. You can’t get comfortable and can’t move. The hours ahead become a time of contemplation. One of the nights after getting very sore from constant lying on my back, I was determined to roll over onto my left side un-assisted. I grabbed the rail on my left with my right arm and like a snail I proceeded to roll the to my left side in a smooth and not jerking way. It took over 15 minutes to finally get on my left side. With my arm stretched over the side of the rest to hold me in place I lay enjoying this new feeling and drifted off…

I woke up with a start—two hours later. It was 6:00 am and I was still holding on tight with my right arm to keep the position.

The Vancouver Canucks hadn’t made the playoffs in three years and it was the first game of the playoffs. At the end of the game the score was tied 4-4. The game went into overtime and I hung on like a loyal fan. The game went on to four periods of overtime with Vancouver winning 5-4 sometime the next morning.

A visit from friends and family was a special thing to look forward to. It was a link from this twilight zone of inactivity and little choices. It was such a relief to talk to someone you knew even for a short while. There was a limit though and after a while I would hit the wall so to speak and the conversation would start to get tiresome and the visitor always expertly perceived this and soon a polite exit would ensue. Having the back problem prevented me from doing a studio session that I was offered at studio downtown. The replacement I suggested was an old friend of mine and upon hearing of my situation took the time to stop by and announced himself by entering the room playing the harmonica! We caught up on each other’s lives and he thanked me for the studio session.

Lower the bed down at the legs up at the back arms together now… roll and sit up. Put feet into slippers and I’m up. I was walking again and it felt so strange! I had lain on my back for three weeks and I was weak and had lost the motor skills to navigate. Before the operation I looked like a pretzel. From that point on I walked and walked stopping to read the paperback in my pocket for a break.

When I finally could walk regularly and hobbled around with the allotted walker from physio, I would pass a room with one resident who played classical music constantly that put a smile on my face every time I walked by. I didn’t make a habit of making eye contact as I roamed the halls as I was concentrating on my lessons but it was nice to hear on each lap around the ward.

My opinion of doctors has swayed in the last years as I was reminded again of my previous incident in my youth when my doctor came into see me at the hospital after he had been paged from being on call. He had obviously been to a party of some kind because I could smell scotch on his breath and he slurred his vowels.

I later learned he had not done the operation so some great relief I can tell you. For this latest back problem, my doctor arrived at the hospital two days after the operation and asked when I was scheduled to go in. In all fairness, the specialist of whose care I was in at this point actually directly under did visit often, and was very good about all aspects of the post operation. He told me I could go home as soon as I could go up and down a flight of stairs and the next day after completing this task with the physiotherapist, I packed up my things and was immaturely asked if I would vacate my room for an incoming surgery patient. I was planning to get a ride home from Brenda who was at work until 4:00 pm and it was only 11:00 am. I said “no problem” and asked if I could take my plastic to the nurse’s station and ambled off slowly towards the day room where I rested in between laps of the ward in my stroller…

I’m back home now and I’m thinking of this experience and remembering those four days at the hospital that will someday soon allow me to walk again. I will remember the nurses who worked like a team and from my perspective did a great job of providing care and attention to everyone. I never saw one of them lose their cool. No matter what time of day or night they could be depended upon to help with even the simplest requests such as helping with rolling over in bed to get comfortable. In my opinion they are the angels of our time. They have chosen a life of helping to ease pain and suffering. In my opinion they should be honored and respected for their work and be told often that they change people’s lives on a daily basis in a positive way. The rest of us should strive to be so lucky.

I’m sitting on the couch reading a book on deep divers when there is a knock on the door and a large man walks in the kitchen with a huge bundle of helium balloons that float towards the ceiling. I am amazed and delighted as I laugh at the size of them and the funny captions on the sides. One of them even plays the song “Don’t Worry be Happy” when you tap it. Suddenly all the thoughts of the past slip away and I forget about the last few days. I now close the door to this ‘bump in the road’ I’ve encountered to face the future.

From this moment on I’m going to be optimistic in the surprises that the future will bring.

Walk on walk on…

About 10 days after the operation I started to feel pain in my leg again. My sciatic nerve was acting up again in much the same places that it did the first time. As the days went by, it worsened and it hurt to put weight on my leg. The limp returned. I couldn’t sleep and I guessed that I had been too active and had re-injured it.

I called the specialist to set up an appointment to see him and thankfully his receptionist heard the pain in my voice, and scheduled me in for that afternoon. In his office I couldn’t sit down for more than one minute before having to stand up and move from the intense pain. When I saw him, he did some tests on me and suggested that I check myself into Emergency, as I needed additional testing so he could see what was wrong with me.

The specialist ordered another CT scan and MRI so he could tell what was going on. Checking into emergency was not as easy as it sounded as I arrived to find 38 people in the ER and a long line waiting to see the Triage nurse. We stood silent, in pain, waiting for her to process one by one the sad lot that stood before her. The procedure to admit each person took 5 minutes just to key in the personal information into the computer before then proceeding to ask the problem. The problem would now be hand written on another form to be dropped off at the emergency door.

She would then do blood pressure, temperature and respiration checks as well. The patient would then be sent to the in patient teller to make sure payment streams were in order and then sent back to the main waiting area to sit and wait to be called. It took me almost 2 hours standing in line, afraid to loose my place knowing I should have been sitting down from the pain. After an hour in line I had tears in my eyes and couldn’t help but wonder why they didn’t have a take a number system similar to various offices where many people cue on a regular basis. What primitive minded organizer was put in charge of setting up this Triage check-in. The one nurse being on her own was totally stressed out having to try to decide who’s next while a line of disheveled upset people couldn’t take their eyes off of her in fear of being overlooked. In my opinion I think there should be a minimum of two nurses in reception: One for handling the groups, and one for the individual checking in. One to focus on the input of information needed and the other to be like a liaison and be highly trained in people skills. I kept my cool and instead downed a couple of the Tylenols I had in my pocket without water.

Hospital Kit: painkillers, water, change

(you don’t want to lose your place in line to go to the machine and get water and if you do, you better have change. Don’t take more than $5, as theft in hospitals is rampant. On my first visit someone had a walkman stolen)

When I finally got to the front of the cue, the nurse said, “Oh, Mr. Bennett, we have your fax right here with directions from your specialist.” Now, if one had just been in hospital for 4 days the week before and received a major operation, you would think that the record of one’s stay would be on file. Especially in this day and age of mega storage capability. But no, I had to waste a lot of time giving all the information again from scratch, have my blood tested, and re-explain where my pain was coming from, as if it was the very first time I was in there. I gave all of my details and was then sent to the cashier’s check in and then sent to sit in the holding area with many of the others who were waiting to be called. At no time had I been offered any kind of painkiller for my pain so I had a couple more Tylonol and sat.

An orderly finally called out my name and I requested a wheelchair, as it was a long way to walk. We went to the doctor’s area and I was given a bed to sit on hoping to get a painkiller for the pain but was immediately taken to get the CT scan. I was wheeled down the corridors of the hospital into a large room and asked to hop onto on a movable padded plank that slowly inched me through what looked like a small “Star gate” threshold that had a spinning mechanism within like someone doing the hoola-hoop around me. After about 5 minutes back and forth, I was given an injection of die though an intravenous needle and filled with a chemical that made me feel like I was having a bath and going to the bathroom in it at the same time. Another pass in the scanner and I was finished asked to hop back to my gurney and left in the hallway against a wall to be picked up. After a time I was transported back to my original room on the 7th floor and placed in the bed of the “Grumpy Old Man”, who had since changed locations. I immediately asked for a private room as it was partially covered on my medical plan. I was told there was one available but it needed to be cleaned and I would be moved as soon as the room became available. I checked in and was finally given a painkiller and relaxed for the first time all day. I didn’t even notice the series of proddings that I received over the next few hours from the nurses and student nurses. I was just relieved the pain was finally gone. I settled into the room and waited to be scheduled for the MRI test. I dozed off and woke up in the middle of the night in a room with three storing people surrounding me so I got up to see if I could change to my private room.

I explained to the first nurse I found that I had booked a private room paid for it with credit card and even left written instructions for TV to be transferred to it when it became available. “Oh we don’t have any private rooms on this floor. I’m sorry.”

I tried to feebly to complain but was too tired and instead asked for earplugs, pain killers and took my walker back to my room. The next morning I was taken for the MRI test. This machine was much larger than the first. This time the movable plank had a headrest that secured the head from movement. I climbed on, put some earplugs in my ears had my head strapped in with velcro straps and prepared for the loudest most claustrophobic hour I have yet endured. Once on the movable platform, I entered a narrow humming tube the full length of my body with little room to spare. It was much easier with my eyes closed but when the test started, it sounded like an organ made of different pitched jackhammers. The machine pounded out its strange symphony as it scanned my body in various combinations: half the tests without the dye and half of them with. When it was over, I was exhausted and found myself again in the hallway to be picked up by another orderly and taken back to my new room. It wasn’t the one I was shown when I arrived but the “rubber room” that had hooks on the walls to hold up thick padding for clients that could endanger themselves. It had no air conditioning and the windows had been locked shut. For the $195 additional price that I was paying for the room I was not impressed but kept my opinion to myself happy for the quiet, its one benefit.

As the windows were locked, and there was no air I asked the maintenance department to open one of them for me when he was replacing a blood pressure tester in my room. He said he would return later and open it for me but he never did. I called my son and asked him to bring a set of screwdrivers to the hospital.

Hospital Kit: painkillers, water, change, earplugs, multidriver

My specialist came in that night and told me that he had looked at the CT and MRI and a further operation would be needed. He said he could do it on Thursday and that that I didn’t have to make up mind right away, he would be back in the morning. It was interesting that he never once suggested that I go ahead with the operation but instead gave me the pros and cons with no opinion whatsoever. It was totally up to me. I thought about my alternatives and being in pain was not one of them. I could wait until the pain in my back might settle down on its own but then in 3 months from now I might end up at the same crossroads that I face now. I decided to go through with it and signed the papers the next morning. The second operation was set for Thursday at 7:30AM and the night before I lay in bed and the more I thought about it the more I became worried. Going under general anesthetic twice in two weeks can’t be good for you. When they came for me in the morning, I wasn’t the bubbly “give me your best shot” self but quite nervous and subdued. When `I got to the operating room I felt like someone who is about to parachute out of a plane for the second time. It’s a different mindset as you know what it’s going to feel like and you know the risks involved.
I had been experiencing a pain in my right ear and had been telling the nurses since I got there to no avail. Believe it or not it is actually not as easy to find a doctor in hospital as one might think. As I was given the general injection, I told the anesthetist that was having an ear problem and he said not to worry about it, as I wouldn’t feel a thing ‘til I woke up anyway…

Hospital Kit: painkillers, water, change, earplugs, multidriver, eardrops

When I awoke it was with one eye and I looked around the room and could see others recovering and knew I would be OK.

Back to my room, back to the narcotics for the pain back to the constipation that goes with it. I mentioned the fact that I needed some laxatives if I was taking Morphine and it was another request that never materialized.

Hospital Kit: painkillers, water, change, earplugs, multidriver, eardrops, laxatives

Visitors were so nice to see in the days after the operation. They are the lifelines to reality and I appreciated every one that visited. It’s funny how everyone has a relative or a friend that has had a back problem. There are a lot of people that have had back operations walking around; they’re perfectly fine now and I feel a little closer to them all now. Like the first operation I was encouraged to walk as soon as I could and on one of my early walks I grabbed the mobile intravenous machine that was dripping saline into me and started to walk to the bathroom. As it was plugged into the wall I called for a nurse to unplug it so I cold walk with it. In slow motion I looked down to see a mouse crawl up my slipper and try to climb my leg before it hopped off and scurried away. I was then on my way down from having screamed, jumping a foot yanking the intravenous tube out of my arm. The nurse was horrified and helped me to get the tube back in my arm and settle me down. I had to get out of there and sit in the hallway as they tried to find the critter in the room. There was no sign of him and they offered me a room in a ward with 3 others if I wanted to move. I didn’t feel like changing rooms as I was getting used to being able to sleep at night. I went for a walk to the day room and sat and read a magazine to settle down. I went back to the room and went to sleep.

Hospital Kit: painkillers, water, change, earplugs, multidriver, eardrops, laxatives, mousetraps

The next morning I was greeted by one of the nurses with a thick Belfast accent: “Mr. Bennett, I understand that you have been keeping a pet in your room. I needn’t remind you that this is against hospital policy.”

Humour can work wonders and with this comment we had a good laugh and I released a lot of the stress that had building like a dark cloud. I felt really refreshed and the mouse incident quickly lost its importance. Later the head of the house-cleaning department came to my room to apologize and tell me that the exterminators would be up to the 7th floor shortly. Later that day I was told stories of mice being in the hospital for years and getting worse. They had been known to fall from the air vents above and resided in the staffroom where the lunches brought from home were kept. One of the nurses informed me that she had spent a fortune eating at all the surrounding restaurants because of the presence of mice in the staff room.

Later that day there was a code yellow in the hospital, which meant that there was a serious accident with incoming patients. I found out later that a speeding car leaving the road had hit three girls from New Zealand who had been waiting at a bus stop in Lynn Valley. They had been brought to the hospital and were in intensive care. It made me think how lucky I was to be getting out of hospital soon.

My specialist came in to check on me and gave me the final OK to go home and a prescription for painkillers when I got home and said he finally rounded up an ear examination tool, which he used. “I don’t really do ears,” he said. “You will have to go and see your doctor when you get home or go to a clinic if it gets too bad.”

A nurse soon approached me and explained that Vancouver General was having an outbreak of Norwalk virus, and that they would be shipping patients to other hospitals soon. She said if I would consider leaving early, they could sure use my bed. This was the day after my operation.

I got dressed, packed up my belongings and left the window open for the next poor soul. As I was wheeled passed the nurse’s station I waved goodbye to my nurse but she couldn’t see me. She was having a serious conversation on the phone with the police as it turned out. While escaping for lunch at the Bread Garden, she had had her wallet stolen and the perpetrators had already gone to London Drugs for a buying spree on her credit card.

Walk on walk on…