I've decided to write about this because, I know that despite the number of amazing, almost saintly nurses in our National Health Service, there are embedded in their flanks, some dodgy, even scary nurses. Why do mean people choose to work with sick and vulnerable people? I can't imagine. Some people have encountered poor nursing practice. The media has sometimes reported tales of cruelty. We have all heard a story.
This one is mine.
After my surgery I arrived to my room, Ward 13c room 2, at around 4am. I slept and relaxed through the morning, feeling positive about my surgery and the outstanding medical care I had been witnessing and receiving. As the sun began to rise higher in the sky, I became fully awake and focused. The walls of my room began to be sharper and brighter. My room felt hot. I could tell from the daylight that it was probably now late on morning. I stayed patient, waiting for a medic to come see me. The sun rose higher in the sky, the burning globe no longer glaring through my window. Still I waited...For what and for how long, I had no idea.
I couldn't move much, just my head and arms. On trying to move my legs I noted that they felt very strange. It was hard to bend them or move them at all. I lifted my sheets to take a look at them. My legs were huge and I was hugely shocked! "Whose legs are they!" I almost wondered to myself in shock. My thighs had doubled in size and my knees, ankles and feet were so bloated they looked like one pulpy structure with no joints to be found anywhere.
Feeling confused and increasingly scared I finally buzzed for a nurse. I heard the buzzing echo through the corridor outside my room. I heard nurses refusing to respond, telling each other who's turn it was! Eventually my buzzer was answered. This would be my first encounter with Joanne the mean and scary nurse.
Nurse Joanne arrived quietly saying nothing, she switched off the buzzer and then turned sharply to my attention "What?!" she snapped, eyes glaring in a way that could turn mortal hearts into stone. I explained that I had just come from surgery and had not seen anyone yet. I explained that my legs were very swollen. I was looking for reassurance that all was well after my operation. I was by this time clearly becoming anxious. I was after all in some sort of limbo-land room with with enormous fat legs. Joanne clipped that the duty doctor was "around" and would eventually come to me. In my state of fat-legged anxiety, I implored for haste "Please could you send the doctor urgently..." my plead was cut short abruptly and roughly. "No I will NOT!" she snapped "That would be rude!" She left my room slamming the door behind her.
Through that brief and strange encounter I became fully frightened, alienated and distressed. I didn't have my phone or any of my belongings around me. I had no idea where I was or where they were. I was now in a different room on a different ward. It was in this instant I realised that my family didn't know where I was. I knew my sister and my cousin would have been there at the earliest hour if they had known where I was. In this fraction of time, a stark realisation engulfed me; I was totally isolated, I could not move due to fat legs and a mortal abdomen wound, I could not reach out to my loved ones and I was truly and totally vulnerable.
My anxiety revved up and accelerated into a complete state of panic, wanting to see a doctor yet not daring to touch my buzzer for fear of another encounter with scary Joanna. I couldn't reach the zimmer frame in the corner of my room. If only I could get out into the corridor and call my sister from the ward office phone. A pointless plot, as I was fresh off a surgery table and connected on both sides to wires and intravenous drips. I buzzed for a nurse again.
After a while, a bubbly, middle aged, rotund nurse beamed into my room. I explained to her that I had none of my things and that I'd had an operation and that I needed to call my family. I explained that my things were most likely in 13E, my previous room. "Please" I implored "Could you help me find my things? I need to call my sister. "Okay!" she affirmed in her strong West African accent "After we've had our food!" she chirped flippantly closing my door behind her. "After they've had their food?!" I repeated to no one in the stark room, wide eyed and bemused.
What I then knew to be true?
I was stranded.
After more time, lingering in this nothingness, I was now In the full grips of cold panic. I did as my gut instincts instructed me. I shouted out my need and did not stop until my call was answered "Doctor! DOCTOR...DOCTOR!!!" I kept this up for perhaps 5 minutes without relenting. Eventually a doctor and a ward sister came to my side.
The doctor, a kind-looking, very beautiful young Indian lady sat on my bedside and instinctively grasped my hand. My breathing was heavy and fast my speech was breathless. She could see I was earnestly distressed. She asked me what the matter was. I explained that I'd just had major operation, that my legs were ginormous and that I wanted to call home but my things were lost, most likely somewhere in 13E, and that the nurses wouldn't help me. She retrieved my notes from outside the door. She took my hand again, reassuring me that the operation had gone well but she didn't know why my legs were swollen and that she and the sister would tell someone to find my things. "No!" a gasped grasping her hand back, "When you leave they won't do it, they won't answer the buzzer and I'll be here stranded!"
She was patient and calm with me "This is no state to be in after an operation. I'm from India. I can relate to how important family is to you. I promise you I will make them find your things...but you have to let my hand go, otherwise I won't be able to help any other patients."
My shoulders began to drop, I relaxed and almost smiled. "You can see I'm not the type to have a panic attack can't you?" I assured her. She nodded her head. "The nurses don't answer their buzzers and even when they did, they just left me." She reassured me "We're going to find your phone right now".
Within a few minutes my belongings and phone were with me.
I grabbed my phone and I sent my sister an urgent, wobbly message. Something along the lines of "Help! Come quick. This place is mad! They only just found my phone." My sister called immediately red-hot-fuming! She had been trying to find me since 4pm the previous day, whilst I was in surgery. No one in this huge, understaffed hospital could tell her where I was. She sounded sick with worry and crazy-angry. I can only imagine her frustration.
Next I sent this message to my friends through FaceBook.
Sent at 3.04pm Saturday 2nd Febuary {I later found out that I'd been left on my own until 2.30pm not 12pm} Post operation care? That's crazy!
After that, my friends, choir members and House Music family began to trickle in...in droves! Friends came from Brighton, Milton Keynes and from all areas of London. My hair dresser and his boyfriend came and began to kick ass letting the nurses know that I was precious to them...But first on the scene was my brother-in-law Paul.
Gentle strong giant, Paul arrived with his calm and soothing manner. He went around the whole wing looking for someone medical to speak to. He reported back, that there was not one medical staff on my wing. They'd put the TV in the day room on loud and had left. "They've gone off together to eat their food" I informed him. I'd heard them discussing each others lunches as they had left.
After an hour or so, Paul looked at my legs and advised that I should ask a nurse for her opinion. There was nothing for it. I had to do it...I pressed the buzzer. Joanne arrived. surely this time she would be nicer, especially now that I had company in the room.
"What!" snapped Joanne.
Okay. No changes there then.
"I just wanted to ask your advice." I began to lift the blanket to show her my leg. She immediately chastised me "Why are you exposing yourself?! COVER YOURSELF UP! she commanded as if she was rebuking satan himself. My calm brother in law, sitting behind her, looked shocked at her reaction. I explained tentatively that I had to show her me leg to show her my concerns. "Ok" she retorted coldly. I lifted my blanket to show her my knee and calves. They were big! "Whenever you see a doctor you can show them" she retorted leaving the room looking as if I was a bad smell.
I exchanged looks with Paul. Paul is a care manager, so this encounter had left him feeling very uneasy. He was aghast at her "poor communication skills" expressing that in care work "there should be a basic level of compassion, patience and reassurance delivered to a patient". He did not like what he had seen.
Given that Joanne had not changed her behaviour when there was a witness in the room, given that she seemed happy to display her mean behaviour in front of a visitor, I came to the conclusion that she must be some sort of sociopath. She made me feel uneasy and I hoped I'd never have to see her again.
My guest began to flow like a steady steam. My sister Revd. Ijeoma Ajibade, Sophie from Brighton, Elisa the song bird, Art Terry and his partner Helena, Ismail (Applied Logic), Ben, Xan and Anne (house music friend, ex-doctor and choir member). I feel that their presence made a difference to my nursing care that weekend. When Anne arrived, she grabbed my notes and looked through them thoroughly. This got the nurses really jumpy. Anne saw that my room had not been cleaned since the previous patient. She got them cleaning up the room and mopping the floor quick sharp! Ben, Anne and Xan from my choir sang No Way Tired and I wept like a baby girl.
By the time my visitors had all gone I was beyond exhausted. I knew I'd overdone it, but that I had done the right thing. I would sleep easy that night. I had external carers caring for me, watching out for me. Meanwhile I'd try not to press the buzzer for fear of invoking the scary vile nurse.
Little did I know that she was gone but would be back the next day.
Yes, more unnerving, surprising encounters with scary Nurse Joanna...but lets save that tale for another day.
