I think the thing that prepared me the most for this experience was working the hospital at This is the Place Heritage Park. Now, mind you, the medicine and how they operate is not the 1880's backward and cruel kind of medicine. It is state of the art. It happens to be how the hospital set up for the patients. One of the differences is that there are not lovely quilts on the beds in the hospital here like there was in the park.
There really is no such thing as a private room. If you have private insurance then, well maybe, but you would also be at a different hospital anyway. But the NHS is a good thing and it gives care for all who need it. Not to mention when all is said and done I will not have any medical bills from this. So the hospital is set up in wards. Normally they divide them by the reason you are in the hospital, like surgical, or baby, or whatever the long list is. I happened to be in the respiratory ward. Which actually kind of ends up as a catch all for people who are going in and out for tests and diagnostics which was the perfect place for me.
The ward I was in was Bay D 5. Now I'm not going to lie, the women who were in the ward with me were the best. We had nurses tell us as much. There were six of us in there. We and a few change out in the two weeks I was there, but we shared a camaraderie. We all needed help, so we looked after each other. We chatted we helped each other and we became friends (most of us anyway) You always have one that is a complainer or sticks to themselves, but we didn't have anyone that was a major pain to deal with.
Each bed had curtains that could be pulled around it for privacy for whatever reasons were needed. During doctor's rounds in the mornings the teams of Dr. would come in and pull the curtains, but really we could hear quite a bit. Some Dr. were better about lowering their voices and others seems to think that the thin cloth was a total sound barrier. In fact, I had one of my Dr's come in and fire off a bunch of hard things at a relatively loud voice. When she was done, my nurse asked to see her and escorted her from the ward. She gave her a royal chewing and marched her back to my bed to apologize to me for the display. After the Dr. left I told my nurse that is was ok. But she wasn't having it. I told her better for the Dr. to learn on me then on someone else, because for me it didn't matter, my ward mates knew what is going on and so you know, whatever.
Because this is England, a trolley came around before every meal and at night that offered Coffee and tea and at night milkshakes (ie nesquik mix strawberry or banana ) and I managed to get them to carry hot chocolate for me. It didn't take long before we all knew who liked what. The one gal in the morning came in and asked me if I wanted milk, yep she got it. We had random people on the trolley, and mine was the first bed so I always politely declined. If one of our ward mates was gone when the trolley came, we had their back. We knew what they wanted so that they didn't miss out. My favorite was the woman who was in the bed on the other side of the ward diagonally from me. She was stuck in the hospital waiting for carers so she could go home. She was a delight. We would smile, I would share my chocolates with her and just supported each other from across the room. She liked her sweets. The trolley would come around and it was always a big cup of tea with 4 sugars and she was very insistent.
Because there were 6 of us, it was never dull. We met their families as they came to visit and the friends. We would find chairs for them to sit. It was fun when most everyone had visitors and it was lively. I think they were always interested in my visitors because they were so diverse. I had my Uni friends come which are many nationalities (Greece, Japan, Indonesia, Czech Republic, Malaysia) as well as my flatmates. One day my flatmate who is from Palestine brought me traditional Palestinian food for lunch and set a spread. My bishop was there (who also brought some Nigerian food) and so we all ate rather well. So here is a Palestinian Muslim, a large and in charge Nigerian, Chris and me. The church ward members are also very international from the Philippines, Portugal, Zimbabwe, South Africa, Hungary and some who are actually from Britain. It was always quite the international affair by my bedside.
Not only were all the visitors entertaining but so were some of the nurses. In Britain you know who was what rank by the color of their uniform. The ones in light blue with stripes were students. Straight light blue were basically a CNA, Light blue with a white piping on the sleeve and collar are a staff nurse - so they can do anything but meds. Nurses in dark blue are senior staff nurses who are in charge of the ward. Sister nurses have a dark blue uniform with white piping. They are the charge nurse who oversees several wards. The the Matron is in dark blue with red piping who is the one who is over all of them. We always waited to see who our next nurses would be because the dynamic would change based on who it was. So sometimes we waited with baited breath.... Some were great and right on top of things and others, well not so much. The bay next to ours and the next one over as well were more trouble so sometimes we got a little forgotten. One of the nurses was more like a circus when he was in.... but we had others that were just fantastic. My favorite was Sister Cat. (Catarina) She was on top of everything and made sure dr's were in line, scans were scheduled and needs were met. She kept everyone working and the ward running smoothly. At one point I needed to get in the shower, but needed help because pain was making it hard for me to move. She grabbed my towels and pj's, said that the Dr's will wait, and took me to the shower. Her help was so appreciated - plus she has long hair and understands. We chatted and bonded. As I came down the hall in my dressing gown she said, "here comes the bride." I guess she told Chris later that she has so many patients that she doesn't get to bond like she would like and it was nice to take time to truly help a patient. She is a saint. Abby was my favorite staff nurse who also was on top of things and just knew what to say and how to help. She herself is a two time cancer survivor and could completely understand what I was going through. I couldn't have asked for better care.
I came to appreciate the fact that we didn't have private rooms. I didn't sit by myself in isolation waiting for someone to come through my door. Instead we had people to talk to, people to look after, friends to make and stories to share. It actually, I think, helps the healing and gives people support that they might not otherwise have. I would not have changed my experience in the hospital for anything. I hope I brightened other people's days and helped them on the road to recovery while dealing with trying to find out what was going on with me. In the end isn't that what life's about?
Wow - this was very interesting to read. At first I was thinking how terrible it must be to not have private rooms, but I can now see the benefits. I love that you are still doing your blog and writing about your experiences. It is a treasure for all of us who are thinking about you.
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