Tuesday 31 July
Day dawns and I am feeling good, apart from very icky hair. Small problem I know but I am a Girl after all.
I was aware that it could take all day to be discharged so was prepared. And I was allowed to keep my room until then. Even better.
I had had a good night overall and was pleased about how the final physios had gone. I recall one lovely moment the previous day. James asked to see my wound. There was very little bruising. As he was escorting me down the corridor as I practised my walking, he smiled and said with a wink “just as well we iced it early then” I burst out laughing.
So all in all I was in a good mood. The lovely Staff Nurse Sam, a true Angel, was back on duty. Mina cane to say goodbye and gave me a big hug. I told her at one point I had nicknamed her Nurse Louise from “One flew over the Cuckoos Nest” due to our ice pack v passing water standoff. She thought that was hilarious. Various other staff cane to say goodbye and then, joy of joys, Angel Samantha (I promoted her) came in and asked me if I was strong enough to stand on crutches whilst she washed my hair under a tall tap. I could have cried with joy, but had cried enough. So afterwards I had clean hair, makeup, clean top etc and started packing.
And Charmer Bvn walked in. All big smiles. I smiled back. With all this smiling I was going to have to get treatment for lock jaw. He asked me if I was happier now and how I felt about what we had discussed. I said again that I did not want anyone else to go through hell but was still thinking through my options re making a complaint and, once off the Olamorph etc would have a think. We parted on as good as terms as one might expect - and my jaw relaxed. I sent a picture of me to my Dr Niece, all dolled up and ready to go ....
And I finally lost it..
The Ward Nurse came in with a Sick note signing me off for 2 weeks from work.
It should be 6. I told him, rather forcefully, to get it changed. I showed him a picture, taken with permission, of Dr X who had agreed the 6 weeks. He told me that Doctor had already left as “today was doctor changeover day”....however, after I did start shouting ,for the first time in this whole saga) he mysteriously found her and cane back....with the original note with the two weeks crossed out and the 6 weeks added. There is NO way that my HR at my workplace will accept this...it could look like it had been forged.
I then got very very angry and the days of frustration hit hard. “You must get me a new sick note with six weeks written on it. My HR will not accept this. And I need it now” I then flatly refused to be discharged and leave the room until I had this note. The Ward Nurse then went a bit white and scurried out, note in hand.
5 minutes ago I was all relaxed and happy to move on to the next stage. Now I have gone crazy. Taking deep breaths, crying (again) and trying to calm down...
The poor sod comes back with a new sick note. I glance at it and put it away. I also apologise to him because he is not at fault
Angel Samantha comes in with my meds and I check them through. All as agreed (I doublecheck the codeine) and then I spot something. Dr X has missed out the blood thinner injections. The Angel of the South East exclaims something rather unagelic, and dashes off. Returns with the meds. The bag is signed for and sealed. And then I realise there is something wrong with the sick note. I check the three scans I have taken in my Mobil. . The third and final note had not been stamped with the hospital stamp with name and address. This is quickly sorted out by “guess who” who is about to be promoted to “Goddess” status.
And that is it!
Lovely Urick who had been serving me lunch all week turns up with a nice sandwich. Further staff including the cleaning staff, catering, nurse Judd and others come to say goodbye. The Angel and I have a hug. This time there is no lockjaw in the smiles. They are geniune.
My long suffering husband arrives and we leave with him pushing the wheelchair. People are waving at us. I want to wave back with my crutches but am scared of taking someone’s eye out. No one wants a medical claim - Now do they?
I keep telling hubby to slow down...! He cheerfully navigates lifts full of people, millennia’s on their phones, and all types of life and we get downstairs. He parks me by the least used part of the entrance, the area which has old fashioned phones in the wall. Because the drop off points are all full, security allow him to use the Mayor’s space. Right by the sliding doors. As I wait for him to load the luggage, Angel Sam appears and I get out of the wheelchair and give her another hug. Honestly I am not usually a huggy person!
I realise that the tubigrip used to help hoist deadleg is at the BOTTOM OF MY SUITCASE. My husband, understandably cross, does not want to go there so we use the cord of my dressing gown. I am just about to stand up from the wheelchair and he shouts. The wheels are not locked. THAT could have been interesting! As I use the manovre taught by Lovely James it works perfectly. Well done physio team... My husband tries to be helpful but hasn’t been trained so I get on with it. He is watching carefully. The plastic bag trick works a treat. And I am in. Hubby dryly says “ it would have worked better if I had tied your legs together”..... honestly. MEN!
With aircon on at full blast we drive to the “Hotel for Hippies” - a short 20 minute drive. I am still very wound up by the whole thing but start to smile as we park easily and are greeted by the Manager. I am taken straight to my room. And smile... phew! And then total exhaustion kicks in..
United Kingdom![[Bonesmart.org] Hopefully Hippy Recovery](https://data.bonesmart.org/attachments/58/58101-38a43d8b98584b5c9354a69abd4edc63.jpg?hash=OKQ9i5hYS1)
and a blissfully boring rest of the week, lol.
