An Unpredictable Life

5. Hospitals...Do I Need to Say More!?

Hospitals…

Do I Need to Say More.?

5

There's a lot of hype at the moment about the state of hospitals, but I have to say, that when I was in, the cleaning was almost fanatical. Really, it's unbelievable the amount of cleaning that went on in my room alone. Now you imagine that times by ten for the other rooms and then there's the ward next door and the one after that…I don't know how they managed it. It was like, every waking moment, of which I confess there weren't many, my room was being cleaned or there were swabs being taken as precaution.

I have to admit that I still remember the names of my three main cleaners. Sad I know, but when they're in your room for that amount of time, every day, not only cleaning but bringing you cups of tea or jugs of water, then with me it's a guarantee there's going to be conversations taking place. So, while I talked, they cleaned. I felt bad because if I was able to, I tried to be as clean as possible, but then there were the parts I couldn't do.

Urgh. Talking of parts I couldn't do…you have no idea what they put you through in the name of cleanliness. Okay, there were the daily showers which I could handle even though I couldn't be bothered, but then there were Swab Wednesdays. God I hated those.

Every Wednesday on clockwork, a nurse would come in with a tray full of cotton swabs and tubes and syringes and it was like WW3 - the Cotton Swabs against Infection - now that was a scary sight. First thing in the morning, just after breakfast, being bombarded with all that…not the thing you want to see at eight in the morning. But it was all to avoid infection; throat swabs, nose swabs, wound swabs from stitches…every kind of swab you could imagine, and they all had to be done. Then there were the infinite blood tests.

There was a test for blood count, red blood cells, white blood cells, platelets, checking for diabetes, checking for any kind of infection, everything. One syringe with one needle for each, boy was I glad I'd opted for the Hickman Line, or else each of those needles would have been jabbing into me and not my tube. But it was all to make me better so I couldn't complain.

Of course, there were the regular things that were there for when I was ill. There was the sick bowls, constant dressings after getting a new Hickman Line, since I had three, cleaning of stitches, removal of stitches (I now officially hate stitches). And then there's all the other stuff as well, keeping track of my water and food intake and out-take with pots.

Now don't think 'oh god, she's lost the plot. Who ever heard of that?' Well, I have and have had to. It was all part and parcel of having the Lymphoma in my kidney and my liver. The nurses had to make sure that I wasn't retaining water which meant that I had to keep a list of how many glasses, or bottles of what ml or litre I'd drank throughout the day. Then, anytime I went to the bathroom I wasn't allowed to use the toilet like a regular person. I had to make sure it went in the pot, leave it for them to collect and they'd calculate whether I was letting out the right amount or if I was retaining water and needed a diuretic which would make me go to the bathroom.

Pleasant, don't you think? Even worse was that they labelled me a Camel because one minute there'd be no pot to collect and an hour later there'd be three and it became a regular thing. They'd ask if there was anything to be collected and I'd say 'yeah, but it's only one this time' and they'd smile and say 'I'll come back later, no doubt there'll be more by then.'.

The nurses were tricky. Even if they'd taken every kind of swab you could imagine on Swab Wednesday, they would always surprise you every now and then with another set of swabs on Thursday. 'Just a precaution' they'd say with a smile and I'd know fine well what it meant. It meant that I was being difficult again and causing more work for the lab by having strange results that weren't conclusive. Not conclusive? The story of my life.