On Wednesday last week, I was back at the Royal Free Hospital, in Hampstead, for my 6 weekly infusion of Methylprednisolone.
Normally we get up at 6.00 am to be ready for the transport to pick me up at 7.00 am, but this morning we all overslept. Mum hadn't put her alarm on - her excuse being that she always wakes up before it goes off. I'm usually well awake before 6.00 am, but was still fast asleep when Mum came in. And Margaret my carer also overslept.
I eventually started getting up at 6.15 am, and was just sitting on the side of the bed when Margaret came. She quickly got me showed and dressed, and as she pulled back the curtains about 6.40 am, the ambulance was just arriving.
I quickly had my tablets and a slice of toast, and then went out to the transport.
Those of you who read my blog last week will recall the horror journey I had had the previous Friday on my way to have my Lung Function Test. This morning I have a regular driver, so I know I'm in safe hands. I tell him about my journey the previous week, and he gives me the name of the transport manager, and says I must complain to him.
Anyway, we get strapped in and are underway. The journey is uneventful, and we pick up another passenger on the way, and are at the hospital just before 9.00 am.
I made a quick dash to the toilet - something I need to do after 2 hours sat in the ambulance - before making my way to the ward for my treatment.
Usually, the nurses work very efficiently to try to keep patients there for the shortest amount of time. They try to ensure that drugs have been prescribed the night before, and ordered from the pharmacy, so these are ready on arrival. They get cannula's in quickly, and make sure you have everything you need, so that treatment's can start early.
Normally on these days at the hospital I can usually expect to arrive about 9.00 am and be finished by 11.30 am, and ready to go home.
Well today was one of those days when things weren't going to happen quickly.
I was seen by one of the nurses, and checked in. She was then occupied with a couple of patients who had come in earlier and seemed to need quite a lot of input, mainly because they were at the start of treatments that required regular observations.
I have been coming to the Royal Free Hospital for about 15 years and have seen mostly the same nurses, for this time. They are more like friends than nurses, and we get on very well. I know how they work, and they treat me very well. So I don't push them if things take a long time, as I realise that there is usually a very good reason, and they will get to me as soon as they possibly can.
Sadly today the ward is short of 2 nurses.
Steph, the nurse looking after my room then attempts to put a cannula in my arm. Like many of us who have regular treatments, and have poor circulation, my veins are very hard to locate and get a needle in. Steph has never attempted to put a cannula in my arm before and soon regrets trying. After two attempts she gives up and rings for one of the cannulation team to come and help.
Two other patients come in. One is a young guy of about 16 who is with his father. It is obvious that this is the first time that the boy has been in for his treatment as they have lots of questions about what is going to happen.
The other patient is obviously a very demanding man, and wants everything done NOW! He seems to be oblivious to the fact that there are other patients there and to the fact that the ward is short of staff. If something isn't done, then he runs off to find a nurse to chase them up. He even interrupts the nurse whilst she is taking another patients observations.
About 10.30 am the guy comes up to put my cannula in. He needs to take some blood as well, so intends to use the same needle. He gets the cannula in easily enough, but can't get any blood out, so he has to put another needle in for this.
So that's 4 needles in my arm in the space of an hour and half.
At about 11.30 am, Steph comes over with my drugs - they had lost my drug chart, and although we all know what treatment I'm having they cannot dispense the drugs without the signed drug chart.
It only takes at hour for the drugs to go in, and then a further 10 minutes just to flush the line. So by 12.45 pm, I'm all finished, and have even had a bit of lunch.
Steph, comes and takes the needle out, and not having been able to get blood out of it earlier, it now bleeds all over the place, despite her putting pressure on the site of the needle. It eventually stops and she makes sure that the dressing on the site of the needle is very secure.
I was due to see my respiratory physio, but she is busy this morning, so I have arranged to see her next time I am in. She will look at my Lung Function Test results and show these to the Professor, and will call me if there is any areas for concern.
So after getting help to put my fleece back on, I make my way down to the transport lounge. After checking in, I see the transport manager, and he is very concerned by what I tell him. He types up a statement from what I have told him, and I sign this, and this will form the basis of a disciplinary warning for the driver from Friday.
I have to wait about 90 minutes before my driver comes and gets me. We have another patient to take home, which is a bit off our normal route.
We leave just before 3.00 pm - which is normally about the time I'd hope to be getting home. The traffic isn't to bad getting across London, but by the time we have dropped off the other passenger in Wimbledon, the traffic has built up quite a lot.
I eventually get home about 5.15 pm, and I'm exhausted. After pie and chips for dinner, I get in my armchair to watch football, and struggle to keep my eyes open. I see the end of the game - just - and then go to bed.
Its been a long and exhausting day, which will take a couple of days to recover from.
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