Hospital Ward – Step 3 of 4 to going home - Part of Picking Up the Pieces Mondays

The only good thing about this step in going home was that I placed close to the bathroom. I know in most cases this is not the prime real estate one desires – but in hospital when you can barely move it becomes an asset. Maybe there were two good things the other two ladies in the room were very pleasant.


I realized that I was not in Kansas anymore, when I was told that the catheter would be removed and I would be learning to transfer from bed to wheel chair to bathroom. After the “removal” a bed pan was slid under me and I was told it would remain there until I went. If I didn’t go the alternative did not sound very pleasant. Luckily for me I was able to will all functions quite quickly – unlike my unfortunate roommate who would be left on the bed pan for up to 1 hour at a time. My heart went out to her – I had my sister (bless her…) –who saved me from that.

The first time I stood up my legs felt like complete jello –jiggley and wobbly - like a colt trying to stand up for the first time after birth- , definitely not able to hold me up and the dizziness. So back into bed the nurse put me. After a few more attempts over the next day, I was able to stay vertical long enough to pivot and sit myself in the wheelchair. Being able to go into the wheelchair, meant that I could be wheeled around the hospital –my sister found this cool and took me down to the cafeteria. I was overwhelmed by the noise and people, but we did stop at the gift shop and stocked up on magazines!

Now that I was able to slowly eat more than broth, my sister would bring me coffee and little treats for breakfast. Hospital “food” that’s what they were calling it anyways even with my taste buds not working, did not resemble anything I was use to consuming. Friends and family quickly came to my rescue and started bringing me food from Pusateri’s (it’s like a Dean & Deluca). In no time I was being treated to real food. Not being able to feed myself, I was extremely grateful that my sister was there to feed me or made sure someone was there, when she could not be. I was the hit of the room – as there was more than enough to share with the other ladies.

Here you were definitely just a bed number to the nurses. I recall the lady across from me who fell getting out of her wheel, transferring to bed. When the nurse came in the room – it was like she was being disturbed. My sister was getting me settled for the night so the curtain was pulled around my bed. I don’t know if the nurse was aware my sister was there because she said this “Oh your too large for me, I’ll have to get someone else to help” – Ok the woman is question may have been a bit on the healthy side – but perhaps – Are you ok? – would have been a better 1st statement. When she came back with another nurse the next thing we heard was “If you don’t help us get you up – you stay there all night!” I gave my sister the look – SEE- they are mean!!!

Once I asked to be turned during the night – I was scheduled to be turned every 2 hours (to the left and then to the right propped with pillows to hold my position and then onto my back) – this particular shift, I woke up and was so stiff, I checked the time on the T.V. it had been almost 4 hours since I was last turned (meaning I was going on 2 missed turns). When I called for the nurse, and asked to be turned she told me “we don’t turn you if you are sleeping”. Interesting I’ve been turned every shift for the last week every 2 hours (day, afternoon, night), I thought to myself – I was too scared to say anything. When I asked if she would please flip my pillow for me, her response was “you have one good arm, you can do it yourself” …as I held back tears, I tried to explain how weak I still was- that I couldn’t sit up or hold my head up on my own from a laying position thus need my arm (weak) to hold me up, leaving no extra arm to flip the pillow. I will never forget her name “Nurse Chad”!! Welcome to hospital night shift.

What I want to share with others;

If you can’t be there during meal time, make sure there is someone there – especially if your loved one can’t feed themselves. Pop in at different times – this way your pattern is not learned. When your loved one says something’s not right have it checked out. I recall how uncomfortable my neck collar felt – I told my sister I didn’t think it was on right, she probably thought I just wanted it off – it wasn’t my favourite accessory! When a doctor came in I had him check it and sure enough it had been put on wrong.

If you or your loved-one, want to have someone stay with throughout the night – don’t ask the nurses, they tell you about visiting hours. Speak with a hospital supervisor or doctor. Provided you are not chatting during lights out or keep the light on disturbing other patients in the room – your request should be authorized.

Send your loved one flowers or something they enjoy, once they are in a Ward unit! Especially if they have come from CCU or ICU, where nothing is permitted due to germs. I was extremely cheered up when I started to receive flowers or cards- more than visits. In a ward anyone can show up to visit your loved one - my sister was great at setting up a visiting schedule - but people still showed up unannounced - which either tired me, cut into a scheduled visit that was cheering me up or completely frustrated me because - I couldn't express I didn't want a particular person to visit. Remember when you can't get out of bed you are at the mercy of others.

Next Monday is the final step before I went home…

Intensive Care – Step 2 of 4 to going home - Part of Picking Up the Pieces Mondays

I was settled in a private room surround by windows (not to the outside) and trying to get a handle on the “contraption” that enabled me to be heard. Still quite weak, I remained bed bound. The goal that I had to reach here was to have the “contraption” removed – by demonstrating that I could drink water and swallow on my own.

There was an extremely friendly, jolly nurse who became my friend – she would be instrumental in me attaining these goals. She would “supply” me with small pieces of ice-cubes to eat and slowly learn to swallow. By the time the “testing” person came I was able to swallow bits of water with no problem. Then it was getting approval to get me off the feeding tube – there was one nurse who was determined to not have it removed – I guess that meant she would have more work during feeding time – as the possibility of me choking and food going into my air passage was a high risk – due to the trach and hole in my throat. But with the help of my Nurse Friend and a compassionate Doctor, the feeding tube was removed. They started me on broth and slowly I graduated to something mushy they assured me was “food”. Jello became a food group to me.

The “contraption” was removed; the hole in my throat was bandaged. I was informed that it would “close” on its own – no stitches. Now when I attempted to speak there was a wheezing noise that could be heard through the bandages.

Though I was still quite weak, I was determined to get home. I begged and pleaded my case to be moved to the “Ward.” Looking back now I should have just stayed put and regained some strength and not insisted on being moved to the “Ward”. But at the time I was so confused, and did not understand just how seriously I had been injured.

What I want to share with others;

Although your loved one “may appear” to know what is best for them and seem to be doing better – know that mostly they are confused and scared. I don’t have the “magic” words that you can use to help them understand that recovery can’t be rushed – but I wish looking back now that someone had realized that I subconsciously I was trying to rush through recovery – not because I strong and brave – but because I was scared out of mind.

For anyone reading this who is going through anything similar in terms of needing to recover be it in an addiction Rehab Centre, hospital or any form where care is required, don’t rush to get through recovery – each minute of you being there is required to make you stronger so that healing can take place.

image: google search -hunterhospital

Critical Care – Step 1 of 4 to going home - Part of Picking Up the Pieces Mondays

I started to “wake-up” – I do not recall exactly what my first thoughts or feelings were – but at some point I remember thinking “where am I – and why can’t I wake myself up from this nightmare?” At some point it started to become clear that I was not having a dream, the pain and confusion as to where I was and I why I felt this way – was actually quite real. I tried to speak, but no sound was coming out. I would later discover this was due to the tracheal intubation tubing that was coming out of my throat and helping me to breathe. This trach would also become the obstacle to getting me to the next level of care.

During this time – I was completely at the mercy of the nurses for all my needs. From monitoring my life saving equipment to bodily function needs. Looking back now I often wonder how I made it through this time. My sister tried to make it and keep me as comfortable as possible; from emptying bed pan when there was no one available to come and retrieve it; personal grooming – to pleading my case for polish on my toes (yes, all else was escaping and failing me, but the fact that the polish on my toes had been removed – did not. Perhaps, looking back now – it was my attempt to retain some part of myself, as all else no longer felt like me, though I don’t think I was consciously aware of this yet.) Yes, I was allowed to have polish put back on my toes – and was delighted when the x-ray technician commented - I was the only person who ever came from CC with freshly polished toes.

The road to moving from CC to Intensive Care was paved with good intentions, but I would have to be off the ventilator for at least 24 hours with no incidents ( I had to breathe on my own) it took a few attempts before I would achieve success. Breathing on my own was as equally painful as when they were suctioning out the trachea to make me cough up stuff to clear my lungs. Apparently it was equally as unpleasant an experience for those who had front seats to the process as it was for me– to them it was like I was going into convulsions, I was later informed.

Eventually tubes were removed and I graduated to a “ trach plug” – for the hole in my throat. By holding a figure over the “contraption” as I called it – I was able to speak and be heard – though I sounded much like someone who had inhaled helium. This of course did not give me an instant pass out of CC.

What I want to share with others;

Night time is a very lonely and most unsettling time. If you know someone in CC – please try to not leave them alone for any prolonged period of time and try to be on time in the morning. For me, if visiting hours started and my sister was not there – I would go into a big panic and anxious state until the nurses were able to locate her.

Many people feel when their loved ones are in the hospital –they are being taken care of; to this I say – there are some very terrific nurses , I was extremely fortunate to have some of these nurses care for me. I will forever be grateful to the nurse that took the extra time to wash between my toes (I can’t tell you how that small gesture made a world of difference to me); the nurse who wore a protective apron and held my mangled arm as I was in for an MRI (without her help it with would have extremely painful to hold up my shattered arm); the nurse that recommended my sister ask the black dead, skin around incisions on my chest bone be debrided… these are just a few examples of the great beyond the call of duty treatment I received.

Unfortunately, to every good there also is a not so good – balance they call it. I still get shivers every time I think about the nurse that threaten to put a bag or diaper on my behind if I continued to ask for the bed pan – that night my bowels were starting to move; then there was the nurse that left me on the bed pan for over 45 minutes (the man across from me had a digital clock above his bed – in CC they need to know the exact time in case you die – there are no walls, just curtains and they are drawn open); Oh and let’s not forget the midnight nurses that were very disturbed by my request to keep their personal conversation down- as I was trying to sleep… this list also goes on.

Know that the person in the bed no matter how much they look like they are OK – they are not, it is our human instinct to not want to look hurt, confused, depressed etc. – showing these may somehow make us appear weak in the eyes of others. Keep visitors to immediate family and those extremely close to the person – no one wants to be on display, especially when they have just gone through hell and back. If your loved seems to get stressed out when you get ready to leave at the end of the day – try and figure out why. Do not dismiss any claims they may try to voice – I’m not saying to jump the gun here – but take the time to carefully examine things.

Learn proper Etiquette for visiting patients in hospital - it will make your visit more enjoyable, especially for the patient. Here are a couple of websites that offer some wonderful tips on this matter: I wish that some of my visitors had been given this list to read, before visiting.

Etiquette for visiting someone in hospital

Etiquette for visting someone in hospital -tips

images; Me in hospital - HHL; other images -google search