8 weeks, 8 flaming weeks!

It’s almost May.  The last time I was in, two years ago, I hated a new month beginning   as it just reinforced how time was passing, despite every day feeling the same.

So following on from my gallbladder type pain,  I then developed a really high temperature.  More doctors,  more bloods taken.  They are very thorough in fairness but it’s all quite stressful as I realise they are constantly thinking ‘sepsis’.  The next day I slept on and off all day and felt rough again.  The hole where the drain was is not discharging which is not necessarily a good sign as if it’s collecting inside,  I will become very ill.  I’m worried and sad and just waiting for them to say no food and back on full time TPN.   Consultant calls and dismisses all of that and says I have lots of bugs floating around and I will get occasional fevers.  I’m doing fine 😡.  it’s that hollow word again.  Fine.  I realise it’s all relative though and compared to some,  I probably am.  Take the lady in the next bed,  the one who has several fistulae and is on permanent TPN.  She has four bags one of which is attached to a tube in her stomach.  She can eat for comfort but everything comes out of the tube so basically very little goes into her intestine.  Just because nothing goes in though,  doesn’t mean nothing comes out as your gut produces litres of fluid a day and if your gut is working,  most of this gets absorbed.  Her gut isn’t working and so it comes out of the various bags constantly.  She is in hospital because her and her husband,  both in their 70s,  couldn’t cope as the bags were leaking constantly.  With the help of the stoma nurses though,  things have improved for her and she is having less leaks.  She has a lovely kind happy face, and is very funny.  The nurses are doing a DVD today to show the district nurses how to deal with the bags.  She’s quite excited and has insisted it doesn’t show her ‘tatties or tuppence’ and she has been reassured it won’t.  She is so happy and is looking forward to her surgery in August when she will be fixed.

On Wednesday I went for an ultrasound to see if I had a gallbladder issue.  As I sat in the department waiting – I noticed the chap sat opposite me was in handcuffs and flanked by two prison guards.   He was young and thin – he stared at me.  I felt uneasy and tried not to catch his glare for fear of having a gob full, he looked angry and I wondered what he’s done and what was wrong with him.  It was soon my turn and the procedure commenced.  The radiographer was quite chatty and showed me my bits and pieces on the screen,  she said there was some sludge in my gallbladder but she couldn’t see anything problematic.  My liver and pancreas looked OK.  She did say the consultant may order a more detailed test to check that an errant stone hadn’t travelled further into the billiary system.  I was relieved all seemed OK and came back to the ward.   Once the report had been read,  the ward doctors came and confirmed what I knew and said there was no treatment other than pain relief.  I was quite relieved as the prospect of more surgery didn’t appeal one little bit.

Stephen came up and I had to deal with some legal stuff about my mother’s house.  Having a relative in a home is not easy on any level and as my mother has a house,  we now have to deal with all of that.  When my mother had the brain haemorrhage we were plunged into an extremely stressful situation overnight and it never ends.  I spent months several years ago trying to track down her deeds to the house only to now discover the solicitor didn’t register the property with the Land Registry.  This causes problems and I have a letter from the council asking me to sort it out.  As with everything in life,  this is easier said than done as all the deeds ( house is 200 years old and there are piles of them) have to be photocopied and sent with a complex form to said Land Registry.  Impossible for me to do so another job for solicitor which means another big bill no doubt.  I just cannot seem to deal with stress any more and so the family will sort it out.

Later that day,   I notice a flurry of activity on the ward with lots of alarms and doctors rushing in.  I know this means a very poorly patient or worse.   Some time later one of the health assistants tell me someone has passed away.   She hadn’t had her surgery yet and just deteriorated and died.  Very sad and yet again I am reminded of the frailty of our lives,  not that I need reminding.

As I’m drifting off to sleep,  I hear the trundle of a trolly passing our room, it’s quite late so this is unusual.   I take a peek and see a big bag on the trolley and realise they have come to collect the lady.  I turn away not wanting to see any more,  I’ve been here too long now and seen too much.   I hope she is at peace,  she reminded me of my aunty Moira and it turns out her name was also Moira – RIP. 


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