If I had been asleep I’m sure I would have been woken at midnight so my blood pressure
(160over 126) could be taken.
And perhaps the same would have happened at 05:00 when when it was 172 over 118.
So began my second day in hospital as a Stroke Survivor. Not that there was much reason to believe it but I had a hope of being discharged today.
As I was awake with zero chance of that changing I went off in search of a shower.
After breakfast my blood pressure (109 over 116) was taken for what turned out to be the last time while I was in hospital.
I spoke to my partner, mid-morning, who told me that she was just about to leave for the airport to pick up the step-daughter and might not be back in time for afternoon visiting.
Not long after that call I received another visiter, a late middle aged man. Who after introduced himself as a Consultant told me that my MRI Scan showed that I had had a small Stroke.
It was not really news but further confirmation.
Standing at the foot of my bed this Consultant told me that he saw no reason why I should not go home today. When I asked what I what I was supposed to do he advised getting my blood pressure down to 140 over 85 and to keep it there: he even jotted it down on a page from my book. When I asked how I was to do that he suggested that I keep taking the tablets and buy a blood pressure monitor. I asked if I should see my doctor to which he answered, “I don’t see the need”. After reminding me that I was not to drive for a month he left.
A few minutes after the Consultant’s departure a nurse came in to tell me that he had signed me out but I would have to wait for my prescription to be fulfilled.
Alone again I phoned my partner with the good news. She was happy but had to tell me that she would definitely not make afternoon visiting as the step-daughter’s flight had been delayed but that she would get to the hospital as soon as possible.
The waiting began.
When the nurse eventually reappeared I asked for confirmation on some of what the Consultant had said. Telling me that she would have to check she left.
A few moments later the Consultant reappeared and he was angry. He made it very clear that he had made himself very clear and asked why was I questioning him. I tried to tell him that I was not questioning but that there were a few things that I was uncertain about. When I replied “my doctor” in response to his demand for specifics his was that I could if I wanted to but there really was no need.
Considering that he had been very clear that I needed to keep my blood pressure under control perhaps having a go at me was not the wisest of moves.
And perhaps the same would have happened at 05:00 when when it was 172 over 118.
So began my second day in hospital as a Stroke Survivor. Not that there was much reason to believe it but I had a hope of being discharged today.
As I was awake with zero chance of that changing I went off in search of a shower.
After breakfast my blood pressure (109 over 116) was taken for what turned out to be the last time while I was in hospital.
I spoke to my partner, mid-morning, who told me that she was just about to leave for the airport to pick up the step-daughter and might not be back in time for afternoon visiting.
Not long after that call I received another visiter, a late middle aged man. Who after introduced himself as a Consultant told me that my MRI Scan showed that I had had a small Stroke.
It was not really news but further confirmation.
Standing at the foot of my bed this Consultant told me that he saw no reason why I should not go home today. When I asked what I what I was supposed to do he advised getting my blood pressure down to 140 over 85 and to keep it there: he even jotted it down on a page from my book. When I asked how I was to do that he suggested that I keep taking the tablets and buy a blood pressure monitor. I asked if I should see my doctor to which he answered, “I don’t see the need”. After reminding me that I was not to drive for a month he left.
A few minutes after the Consultant’s departure a nurse came in to tell me that he had signed me out but I would have to wait for my prescription to be fulfilled.
Alone again I phoned my partner with the good news. She was happy but had to tell me that she would definitely not make afternoon visiting as the step-daughter’s flight had been delayed but that she would get to the hospital as soon as possible.
The waiting began.
When the nurse eventually reappeared I asked for confirmation on some of what the Consultant had said. Telling me that she would have to check she left.
A few moments later the Consultant reappeared and he was angry. He made it very clear that he had made himself very clear and asked why was I questioning him. I tried to tell him that I was not questioning but that there were a few things that I was uncertain about. When I replied “my doctor” in response to his demand for specifics his was that I could if I wanted to but there really was no need.
Considering that he had been very clear that I needed to keep my blood pressure under control perhaps having a go at me was not the wisest of moves.
With the Consultant’s second egress I phoned my partner to tell her how frustrated I was
feeling. The news from the airport was not great as it looked like they would not be back until
the evening.
I was left no option but to wait for my drugs to be delivered.
So that’s what I did. Wait and wait and wait and wait.
Alone!
For a couple of hours nobody entered my room: not even the cleaners. The lunch delivery came and went: why would I have ordered food I was going home?
After the other patient’s plates had been cleared away I saw the young, blonde female doctor, from the day before, for the final time as she scuttled out of the ward, obviously trying but failing to not look in my direction.
The waiting got too much so I went in search of information. I eventually found a nurse and asked if she knew when I might leave. Her answer was that I would have to wait until my meds came up from the pharmacy. Asking when that might be all I got was a shrug and a comment about it “always being like this at weekends”.
I traipsed back to my room.
Throughout the afternoon I had more conversations with my partner and I think my frustration began to really show. I wanted, no needed, to know how I was going to get back from the hospital. She said that she hadn’t thought that far but she would see about it.
At about 3pm the nurse reappeared, I hoped baring gifts, but it was only bad news. The Consultant had forgotten to sign the prescription. He had been paged but if it was not signed and back to the pharmacy by 16:00 it was unlikely that it would be fulfilled, closing as it did at 5 o’clock. At ten minutes to four the nurse confirmed that it had been signed.
My partner phoned with the news that friends in the village were happy to pick me up. Unfortunately I still had now idea when I would be released. All I could do was phone them when and if I had my meds.
All I could do now was wait.
5 o’clock came and went, along with my hopes.
At twenty past five the nurse appeared with a sealed white paper bag: I was free.
Nobody talked me through the drugs that I was to take but then nor had there had been no attempt to discuss what had happened to me and what I could expect in the coming days weeks and months.
I phoned our friends and settled back to do what I had been doing all day.
I eventually left the hospital at 18:30 after forty-four and a half hours!
I was left no option but to wait for my drugs to be delivered.
So that’s what I did. Wait and wait and wait and wait.
Alone!
For a couple of hours nobody entered my room: not even the cleaners. The lunch delivery came and went: why would I have ordered food I was going home?
After the other patient’s plates had been cleared away I saw the young, blonde female doctor, from the day before, for the final time as she scuttled out of the ward, obviously trying but failing to not look in my direction.
The waiting got too much so I went in search of information. I eventually found a nurse and asked if she knew when I might leave. Her answer was that I would have to wait until my meds came up from the pharmacy. Asking when that might be all I got was a shrug and a comment about it “always being like this at weekends”.
I traipsed back to my room.
Throughout the afternoon I had more conversations with my partner and I think my frustration began to really show. I wanted, no needed, to know how I was going to get back from the hospital. She said that she hadn’t thought that far but she would see about it.
At about 3pm the nurse reappeared, I hoped baring gifts, but it was only bad news. The Consultant had forgotten to sign the prescription. He had been paged but if it was not signed and back to the pharmacy by 16:00 it was unlikely that it would be fulfilled, closing as it did at 5 o’clock. At ten minutes to four the nurse confirmed that it had been signed.
My partner phoned with the news that friends in the village were happy to pick me up. Unfortunately I still had now idea when I would be released. All I could do was phone them when and if I had my meds.
All I could do now was wait.
5 o’clock came and went, along with my hopes.
At twenty past five the nurse appeared with a sealed white paper bag: I was free.
Nobody talked me through the drugs that I was to take but then nor had there had been no attempt to discuss what had happened to me and what I could expect in the coming days weeks and months.
I phoned our friends and settled back to do what I had been doing all day.
I eventually left the hospital at 18:30 after forty-four and a half hours!
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