87 Please don't sing 'Misty' for me

After I posted the piece about my horrible night in Milton Keynes hospital and the intolerable, deranged behaviour of my ‘roommate’ John, Caroline reminded me of the last time I was in a room with another patient.  That was in a rehab centre in Fort Lauderdale, Florida in January 2009 after my transplant and things couldn’t have been more different.

Because so much happened during the 20 hours I was in hospital in Milton Keynes, I had to leave some aspects/incidents out.  I didn’t mention that the first sign that John showed of being difficult was when he started singing.  

John sat in his bed and “la-la’d” through Danny Boy.  I think that he once must have had a very nice singing voice.  He was pitch-perfect and when he reached the part where it goes really high, he hit every note effortlessly.  I was quite impressed.  Obviously, I was unaware at that point of how things were to turn out later.  I was almost finding it enjoyable.

After he had finished with Danny Boy, John started to ‘sing’ When a Child is Born, the Johnny Mathis classic.  Again, no words - just la-la’s.

Later, when John was swearing and spitting at anyone who came near him, a nurse tried to quieten him by trying to get him to sing When a Child is Born with her.

She started to sing, “A ray of hope flickers in the sky,”

“FUCK OFF!” bellowed John and from then on things just went from bad to worse to even worserer.

Before and after my transplant, I was in the hospital and then in rehabilitation centres in Fort Lauderdale for 101 nights.  The hospitals I was in were nothing like ours.  

There were no wards.  Every patient either had a room to himself or herself or was in a twin-bed room.  For 100 of those nights, I had a room to myself.  For the last two weeks, I was in a room with space for two beds but I was alone.

January 16^th 2009 was the big day.  I was due to leave Fort Lauderdale and return to Grand Cayman for the first time since I had left for my operation in early October of the year before.  At around 8:00 pm on the 15^th, just after I had finished the last hospital dinner I was to have in America, a nurse came in.

“We’re going to have to bring someone in to share this room with you.  Sorry.”

I didn’t mind.  The worst thing that could happen was that my roommate might snore but that wasn’t really a problem because it was only going to be for one night.

At 10:00 the door opened and two nurses pushed in a bed bearing the inert figure of a black man.  I could see that he was older than me and that he was lying on his back, either asleep or unconscious.  I could only see him for about 30 seconds before the nurse pulled at a curtain and divided the room in two.  I could no longer see my companion.  

At 11 o’clock I tried to sleep.  Thank goodness he wasn’t snoring.  However, I hardly slept.  Half an hour later a nurse came back and was evidently trying to rouse my roommate.

“Johnny……..…Johnny……..…Johnny……..…Johnny……..…Johnny”

She was unsuccessful and left.  I slept.  Then, a little later I was woken again.

“Johnny……..…Johnny……..…Johnny……..…Johnny……..…Johnny”

He couldn’t be asleep.  He must have been unconscious.  Ten minutes after that, another nurse came in.  I couldn’t see anything but I could hear that this nurse had a new tactic:

“Mister Mathis……. Mister Mathis…….Mister Mathis……. Mister Mathis”

It can’t be!  Can it?  I phoned Caroline who was in Cayman, fast asleep, having an early night.  She was catching the 7:00 am flight to Miami the next morning to help me get back home. 

I whispered urgently into the phone, “Look up Johnny Mathis.  Is he still alive?  How old is he?”

“Why?”

“Just look him up and text me.  I’ll tell you why tomorrow.”

The text came:

Yes  74   cu tomo

X           

Just after midnight, a nurse came to take my blood pressure, temperature and other things

“Is that Johnny Mathis?” I whispered.  She nodded.

Caroline arrived at 10:00 am the next morning.  “What was all that about?” she grumbled.  “I was asleep.  I had to get up at five.”

I told her who I was sharing a room with.  The curtain was still drawn across and so we couldn’t see him.  Caroline decided that she needed the bathroom and very slowly she walked past the other bed to the door.

“Yes, it could be,” she said when she got back.  “He’s slumped in a chair and he’s got his own private nurse with him.”

Half an hour later, we left for the airport.  I didn’t say goodbye to Johnny or thank him for his company.  For the 12 hours, he was with me, unlike John in Milton Keynes, I don’t think my roommate ever opened his eyes.   

He didn't sing either and that was a shame.     

86. Nurses - Much more than just Carers

I spent last Wednesday night in hospital.  The only time I’ve been in hospital before was in Fort Lauderdale, Florida when I was in for 3 months following my transplant.

Here is a brief history of one of the most interesting 36-hour periods I’ve ever had in my life:

Wednesday
2:00 am	I get out of bed and have to stop to rest three times walking the 20 paces to the bathroom because I am so breathless.  I am coughing up buckets of phlegm, I’m hot and I feel terrible.
10:30 am	Caroline insists that I visit the doctor but I am so weak and tired that I tell her I can’t.  She phones the surgery.
12:30 pm	The doctor arrives for a HOME VISIT!!!   My temperature is 39.7°C, my blood pressure is 71/47 and my oxygen level is 86%. Very quickly, I am diagnosed to be suffering from pneumonia.
3:00 pm	I am admitted to Milton Keynes hospital and go through an hour of tests and x-rays.
4:00 pm	I go to a ward in the MAU (Medical Assessment Unit).  All the medical wards are full.  There are 3 beds on either side of it. 4 men, two of whom are younger than me, occupy the other beds.  There is one empty bed. 1 On the far side of the ward, to my left, is John.  He looks very old and is either asleep or unconscious. 2 Directly opposite me is Peter (possibly 35) who is sitting up in bed, staring intently at me with both his hands shaking on his lap. 3 To his left is a middle-aged man reading a magazine. 4 To my right is an old man who is lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. The bed to my left is vacant.
4:45 pm	Peter, who has been staring at me most of the time, speaks to me: “Got a cigarette?”  I shake my head.
6:00 pm	John gets out of bed, shouts and starts to walk, very unsteadily, away from it.  The nurses try to get him to return but he ignores them and sits on the bed of the Magazine Man who has been taken to X-Ray.  John is shouting continuously.
6:30 pm	Magazine Man is back from X-Ray and tells John in no uncertain terms to, “Get off my fucking bed”. Eventually, John does that and walks towards his own bed.  At the last moment though, he evades the nurse shepherding him and goes to stand by the large open window.  As the nurse walks towards him, John raises his fists and tells her to, “Fuck off,” or he’ll hurt her.  She stops for a moment and then moves towards him.  John swings a fist at her but misses.
6:45 pm	Dinner is served.  I just have orange juice, as I’m not at all hungry.  John refuses anything brought to him and Peter says he’s not hungry but he wants a, “very big vodka.” “How am I supposed to stop my hands shaking?” he asks the nurse.  “Get me a drink.”
7:30 pm	I notice that John is standing in a large puddle on the floor.  Two new nurses, who have just started their shift, try to get him to move so they can clean up.  He refuses to move and shouts, “I’m 83.  I was in the army and fought the Germans.  I’m not frightened of you two.” The man to my right shouts out, “To pee or not to pee?” and laughs loudly at his joke.
8:00 pm	I try to be helpful. “If he’s 83, he was only 15 when the war ended,” I tell the nurse, “and so he couldn’t have fought the Germans.” The nurse says, “Thanks,” but rather coldly.
8:30 pm	John removes his wet pyjama trousers and stands by the window, stark naked, shouting at the top of his voice.  The nurse hands him a urine bottle. “It’s empty,” says John, looking aggrieved. The nurse tries to explain what the bottle is for but he shouts at her and doesn’t listen.
8:40 pm	A Nurse brings clean, dry pyjamas for John.  He must be cold standing by the open window.  He sits on his bed and puts them on.
8:45 pm	Why don’t you lie down John?” says the nurse.  “You must be tired.” “Fuck off,” he yells at her. “Will you fucking shut up,” screams Magazine Man.
9:00 pm	John has been shouting at the top of his voice for 4 hours.  Surely he’s getting tired?  No he isn’t - not at all.
9:05 pm	“To pee or not to pee?” the man to my right shouts again.
9:15 pm	John leaves his bed and walks towards the ward entrance.  Beyond it, I can see the Nurses’ Station with all its office equipment.  The two nurses stand in his way but with fists raised, he walks through them. “I had very little sleep last night,” I am thinking.  “If I were at home, I’d be going to bed now.”
10:00 pm	John is standing in the corridor.  I can’t see him but the noise from his shouting is deafening.
11:45 pm	I ask if we can have the ward lights turned off.  They are.
Thursday
1:00 am	At last!  The nurses call Security and two uniformed guards arrive.  I know this will exacerbate things because John thinks that they are police.  “Fuck off pigs,” John yells at them.  “Go catch some crooks.”
1:30 am	I hear a tremendous crash from the corridor.  John is knocking over as much of the furniture as he can.
1:45 am	A nurse tells me that they’ve asked John’s daughter to come in, hoping that a familiar face will calm him.
2:00 am	I'm told that his daughter has said that she can’t come because she has to be up early for work.
3:00 am	There has been a standoff for 2 hours between John and the guards.  When they get close, John spits at them. The guards have managed to get John just into the ward but he is still 20 feet from his bed, shouting and swearing all the time.
3:15 am	The nurses and the guards have obviously concocted a plan:  1. While the two guards try to talk to John, the nurse slips around behind.  2. After a second or two, she taps him on the shoulder.  3. John turns round and immediately, the two guards grab his arms and pinion them.  4. Quick as a flash the nurse produces a hypodermic syringe and injects him in the arm. John yells louder than ever and is trying to wrestle with the guards but they are too strong for him.  One guard grabs and lifts his legs, while the other lifts him at the chest.  They carry him over to his bed, place him on it and then raise the bottom of the bed so John’s feet are some 3 feet above his head.
3:30 am	Every 5 seconds John, who is now trapped in his bed, is shouting, “HELP” at the top of his voice and he also yells out that he has wet himself.  I wait with bated breath and then it comes: “To pee or not to pee?”   Oh,   come on mate!  It’s not that funny!
3:35 am	A nurse approaches John who is lying awkwardly on his bed.  She tries to soothe him but fails.  She gets too close and he lashes out and kicks her hard in the head.
3:40 am	Magazine Man stomps over to John and shouts at him, “If you don’t fucking shut up, I’ll fucking do you.”
3:45 am	The nurse who had been kicked in the head comes over and asks how I am. "I'm all right," I say.   "I'm just tired but what about you?  That was a hard kick.” She smiles and sighs. "I'm fine.  It's part of the job.”
3:50 am	A different nurse comes and stands by my bed and tells me that they are trying to find spaces in other wards for us. “How are you feeling?" she asks me. "Very tired," I say. "You'll be OK in the end," she says calmly and gently. "When you die." "WHAT!"  That woke me up. "NO, I'm not.  What are you talking about?" She bends down and whispers, "We're all going to die and be with Jesus." She pauses.  "We're just passing through."
4:00 am	Magazine Man is wheeled off to another ward.  “So long, Suckers” he shouts, gleefully, as he leaves.  John shouts out, "HELP!" again very loudly and is showing no signs of tiredness.
4:10 am	To Pee Or Not To Pee is taken away too.  That leaves Peter and me in the ward with John.
5:40 am	The sun has risen and is shining through the open window.  The ward is getting brighter but John is still shouting very loudly.  “I can’t understand it, the nurse tells me.  “We gave him enough to knock out a horse.  We thought he’d sleep for 10 hours.”
5:45 am	A new patient is brought into the vacant space to my left. “How long has this been going on?” he asks me as John is shouting more than ever.  “About 12 hours,” I sigh.
7:00 am	I have my blood pressure, temperature and oxygen level taken. “That’s a lot better.” The nurse smiles at me.  “You’re almost normal.” “Thanks,” I say.  “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” In future, I’d like to be known as, ‘Almost Normal Terry’.
7:00 am	Breakfast.  I just have a cup of tea.  John won’t say what he wants and Peter has Rice Krispies.
7:30 am	Peter can’t eat his cereal.  His hand shakes so much that the Rice Krispies all fall off the spoon before they reach his mouth.  A nurse feeds him.
8:05 am	John is getting quieter.  He’s still shouting but not with the regularity or intensity of before.  New Arrival leaves his bed and pulling the stand holding his drip with him, is walking towards the open window. “Where are you going?” asks the nurse. “To the window for a smoke.  You wouldn’t want smoke in the ward,” he says. “You can’t smoke here,” the nurse says.  “There’s oxygen around.  It would be dangerous.  I’ll take you outside when I’m not busy.” ”Make it quick then,” New Arrival grumbled.  “I’ve normally had 5 or 6 by now.  I’m a heavy smoker.”
9:00 am	John is quiet.  Maybe he’s asleep.  Obviously, I’m still awake. Peter is having an animated discussion with someone at the end of his bed whom only he can see. “All right, I’ll get some,” I hear him say. Peter leaves his bed and walks directly towards me.  He stops at the end of my bed and starts to pull at the curtains that surround it.  Half the curtain is already off. “What are you doing?” I shout at him. “There’s a shortage,” he tells me.  “They’ve put out a call for curtains.”
9:30 am	The nurse goes over to New Arrival and tells him she can take him out for a smoke now. “About time,” he says.  They are passing the foot of my bed. “Give us a cigarette then,” he demanded of the nurse. “I haven’t got any,” she says, looking surprised. “OK,” says New Arrival, “I’ll give you some money and you can go to the hospital shop and buy me some.” “They don’t sell cigarettes.  This is a hospital.”             “You give free food.  Why not free tobacco?” he moans at the nurse.  “I’m a heavy smoker.” “Got a fag?” he asks, looking straight at me.
11:00 am	A doctor comes to see me and apparently, I really am a lot better. “Can I go home then?” I plead. You’re receiving antibiotics intravenously and you should continue to do so for another 24 hours.  So no.” “But I can’t face another night like last night in here.” I whinge.
11:15 am	After a great deal of pleading, begging and insistent beseeching on my part, he finally agrees that I could take the antibiotics in pill form.  That, however, will mean that I’m discharging myself from hospital care against advice.  I have to sign a form absolving the hospital of any responsibility if anything goes wrong. Of course, I agree.
12:35 pm	John wakes up and starts shouting that he’s wet himself.  I don’t care anymore.  I’m going home!
2:00 pm	I sign the self-discharge form.
2:30 pm	Caroline comes to collect me. “How are you, really?” she asks me. “I’m well, I think.  Just very tired.  I’ll tell you about it later.”

I’ve read a lot in the newspapers recently about poor quality care given by nurses, especially to the old and the frail.  I suppose that those stories must be true but I can’t believe Milton Keynes Hospital is in any way exceptional or different from most. 

Not only would I not want a nurse’s job, but I also couldn’t do a nurse’s job. No words can convey the admiration that I have for those I met.  They were wonderful, patient, caring and kind.  Nurses tolerate the intolerable.  They work in impossible conditions and I think they are almost saint-like.

What can be done with patients like John?  He is clearly suffering from dementia, as he had absolutely no idea where he was, what was happening or what he was doing.  He was constantly bewildered and very frightened.  I can’t even start to think of a solution. 

Another thing:  Every nurse that I met in those 24 hours spoke with a foreign accent, and came from Eastern Europe, The Far East or the Caribbean,

I wonder what UKIP would have to say about that.

22/5

David, whom I was at school with and I have mentioned several times in the past, left the following as a 'Comment'.

I don't think many people read the comments and so I have put it here.  It amuses me hugely.

I was in hospital in the orthopaedic ward, in May 1971 having knee surgery.  On Saturday afternoon, just before kickoff, the patients were taken (wheeled/carried/lifted) into the TV room to watch the Cup Final between Arsenal and Liverpool.  Because of the hospital’s location, virtually all the patients were Arsenal supporters.

It was 0-0 after 90 minutes.  Liverpool scored in extra time.  The room went very quiet.  10 minutes later, Arsenal scored.

My companions, in the euphoria of the moment, forgot why they were there.  They leapt to their feet, arms raised and then came crashing down.  It was like watching a room full of dominoes collapsing.  5 of them had to be helped up from the floor by nurses and 3 of them had to have their plaster casts reset.