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I hope a thread with that title should produce some interesting reminiscences!
I have diverticular disease, which is usually not a problem and was discovered a few years ago by accident, when having investigations for something else. However, it flared up unexpectedly and suddenly on Saturday evening, and by 10.30 we decided I’d best ring 111 for advice.
Have you noticed that medical crises always happen over a weekend when only emergency care is available?
Anyway, an ambulance arrived within half an hour and took me to Basingstoke A&E. Bear in mind that, in common with A&E depts everywhere, you really don’t want to choose 11.15 p.m. to arrive in the slot reserved for drunks and druggies, although the nurse said, with breezy insouciance, ‘Not many so far, the night is still young…’
We arrived at 12.15 and I sat on a chair in a cold and draughty corridor for half an hour before being moved to a bay and given a trolley. This compelled me to sit up at an angle of 45 degrees, looking directly into the powerful overhead light. It was very noisy, of course, and a machine in the corner kept trying to chat with random bleeping noises. I got extremely cold as there was maximum ventilation and no heating, and I had only one thin cotton blanket to tuck round my legs. In their enthusiasm to deter Covid, they seem to be encouraging pneumonia. Eventually a nurse arrived and gave me the once-over - several blood tests and a cannula, ECG stickers, Covid test, temperature, blood pressure and oxygen levels.
Then he went away for a couple of hours, before I was moved into a ward which resembled an underground windowless bunker with heavy plastic curtains round each cubicle. Enlivened by a poster suggesting the possibility of an upgrade to the Candover Suite in the private wing of the hospital, with a picture of a lovely meal on a tray with a white napkin and a bowl of fruit …
By about 4a.m, a doctor arrived,and we discussed my previous history. Halfway through our conversation, I got the inevitable query to add to my collection of similar remarks -
‘Do you have a medical background?’
Does anyone else who can actually read get this from medics? I dread to think what this implies about the inability of the general population to describe their symptoms using accurate terminology, but it KEEPS cropping up whenever I talk to a doctor. Mind you, in the ambulance on the way to Basingstoke I was chatting to the paramedic and she told me about her 2-year-old son and how she and her boyfriend fitted in his care with her 10-hour shifts. I was interested in all this, and then she said ‘What did you do?” So I said I was a teacher, and she said ‘yes that fits, I thought you might have been.”
Ha ha!
Anyway, the doc said that I could be moved to a bed in a ward, unless I felt I’d be more comfortable at home, and if I got worse or was worried I could ring the hospital and return in the next day or so. Unsurprisingly, I opted for a comfortable bed with an actual pillow in a dark and quiet bedroom with an electric blanket at home. So I was conducted to the waiting area of A&E, where the nurse pointed out the public phone where you could make a free call to one of the local taxi firms to book transport home. Not wishing to get my husband up at 5.30 a.m, I thought it worthwhile to spend £20 on a taxi journey of 15 miles, so I gave it a go. Only to find, having had some difficulty in hearing the response from a lady with a strong Indian accent, that there are no taxis available in Basingstoke at that ungodly hour, or indeed until after 9.30. So I waited until 7.00 and rang Tony, who hadn’t slept at all, and he kindly rescued me by 8.00. By which time I was really, really cold, as the A&E waiting area had the outside door permananently open and I was told to sit near to it, rather than further in whet it was a degree or so warmer, because that was where the patients who were waiting to be seen had to sit and if I sat there it would upset the system.
It was bliss to be home and warm and in my own bed, and as instructed, this morning I rang my own GP who is making a referral for me with a consultant and says if I haven’t heard within 10 days I am to tell him and he will chase it up. I’m feeling a lot better now I’ve had a good night’s sleep, and it was an interesting experience. The staff were all simply lovely and I couldn’t fault the treatment I received, but the environment was a bit gloomy and everyone was obviously very stretched and overworked. I’ll be interested in any comments you might like to share about similar events you’ve been involved in.
I have diverticular disease, which is usually not a problem and was discovered a few years ago by accident, when having investigations for something else. However, it flared up unexpectedly and suddenly on Saturday evening, and by 10.30 we decided I’d best ring 111 for advice.
Have you noticed that medical crises always happen over a weekend when only emergency care is available?
Anyway, an ambulance arrived within half an hour and took me to Basingstoke A&E. Bear in mind that, in common with A&E depts everywhere, you really don’t want to choose 11.15 p.m. to arrive in the slot reserved for drunks and druggies, although the nurse said, with breezy insouciance, ‘Not many so far, the night is still young…’
We arrived at 12.15 and I sat on a chair in a cold and draughty corridor for half an hour before being moved to a bay and given a trolley. This compelled me to sit up at an angle of 45 degrees, looking directly into the powerful overhead light. It was very noisy, of course, and a machine in the corner kept trying to chat with random bleeping noises. I got extremely cold as there was maximum ventilation and no heating, and I had only one thin cotton blanket to tuck round my legs. In their enthusiasm to deter Covid, they seem to be encouraging pneumonia. Eventually a nurse arrived and gave me the once-over - several blood tests and a cannula, ECG stickers, Covid test, temperature, blood pressure and oxygen levels.
Then he went away for a couple of hours, before I was moved into a ward which resembled an underground windowless bunker with heavy plastic curtains round each cubicle. Enlivened by a poster suggesting the possibility of an upgrade to the Candover Suite in the private wing of the hospital, with a picture of a lovely meal on a tray with a white napkin and a bowl of fruit …
By about 4a.m, a doctor arrived,and we discussed my previous history. Halfway through our conversation, I got the inevitable query to add to my collection of similar remarks -
‘Do you have a medical background?’
Does anyone else who can actually read get this from medics? I dread to think what this implies about the inability of the general population to describe their symptoms using accurate terminology, but it KEEPS cropping up whenever I talk to a doctor. Mind you, in the ambulance on the way to Basingstoke I was chatting to the paramedic and she told me about her 2-year-old son and how she and her boyfriend fitted in his care with her 10-hour shifts. I was interested in all this, and then she said ‘What did you do?” So I said I was a teacher, and she said ‘yes that fits, I thought you might have been.”
Ha ha!
Anyway, the doc said that I could be moved to a bed in a ward, unless I felt I’d be more comfortable at home, and if I got worse or was worried I could ring the hospital and return in the next day or so. Unsurprisingly, I opted for a comfortable bed with an actual pillow in a dark and quiet bedroom with an electric blanket at home. So I was conducted to the waiting area of A&E, where the nurse pointed out the public phone where you could make a free call to one of the local taxi firms to book transport home. Not wishing to get my husband up at 5.30 a.m, I thought it worthwhile to spend £20 on a taxi journey of 15 miles, so I gave it a go. Only to find, having had some difficulty in hearing the response from a lady with a strong Indian accent, that there are no taxis available in Basingstoke at that ungodly hour, or indeed until after 9.30. So I waited until 7.00 and rang Tony, who hadn’t slept at all, and he kindly rescued me by 8.00. By which time I was really, really cold, as the A&E waiting area had the outside door permananently open and I was told to sit near to it, rather than further in whet it was a degree or so warmer, because that was where the patients who were waiting to be seen had to sit and if I sat there it would upset the system.
It was bliss to be home and warm and in my own bed, and as instructed, this morning I rang my own GP who is making a referral for me with a consultant and says if I haven’t heard within 10 days I am to tell him and he will chase it up. I’m feeling a lot better now I’ve had a good night’s sleep, and it was an interesting experience. The staff were all simply lovely and I couldn’t fault the treatment I received, but the environment was a bit gloomy and everyone was obviously very stretched and overworked. I’ll be interested in any comments you might like to share about similar events you’ve been involved in.