What happened next after the operation. I will never forget. It's a tale that I'm glad to be able to tell. On behalf of all the unsung, poorly paid medical heroes working for the UK's National Health Service.
Soon after Ebele left I saw the medical team switch over. It must have been around 6pm - 8pm. I recall the strange quietness, the strange exchanges in their speechless eye contact as they handed over and left.
The next hours as I swam in and out of sleep I began to slowly build a picture There was one doctor and one nurse on this ward. They began to run around all of us, flying from bedside to bed side. My curtains were partially drawn. As I my mind lay there in my partially conscious soup I could sense their persistent speed, their non-stop pace. My nurse introduced herself to me as Christine. Her kind smile and smooth oriental skin are still beautifully imprinted upon my mind. She would rush constantly that night to my side, my monitor, my drip, my bleeding, to my dressings and then presumingly to those of others.
The other doctor had an Italian accent. he was doing the same for others. He would then dash to the phone and start calling around the wards, looking for rooms, technically describing all of the patient operation cases he had, in need of a ward. I knew I was the one always described last "Technical blurb, technical blurb....but she is as stable" I was stable. If I felt pain I would use my morphine pump.
There was a porter. Occasionally he would wheel patients away when a bed hd been found. After some tie the porter left saying he was going for a break. His air seemed put out, tired, perhaps fed up.
This went on for hours. I couldn't tell what time it was but the 2 medics never stopped flying around the room, desperately keeping all of us treated, medicated and alive.
At one point I got so, desperately in need of rest I began to whimper. Something deep inside was so utterly weary and in need of deep, deep sleep. Christine came to my side immediately and soothed me...and just then I got the realisation...I needed to shut the f*** up, and witness the incredibility of human spirit that was going on here! I got it that I was being shown something, something very special. Something that we all have no idea about that happens when we're fast asleep tucked up in our comfortable beds at home.I asked Christine whether her and the doctor were looking after 4 of us. I couldn't see much as my curtains were mostly drawn around me. "We're looking after 9 of you" replied Christine.
I was stunned! I knew 2 patients had already been found beds earlier in the night. So, these 2 medics were single handedly rushing around, keeping aIl 9 of us alive. All night! I asked Christine to draw back my curtains so that I could get more perspective of what was going on. I told her to get on with helping others and I was fine.
I couldn't see everyone in this post op room, but across the way was a young man with what appeared to be a serious head injury. In all the time that I was there, that man never regained consciousness once.
The woman to my right had had a cesarian. She'd had a girl and had not yet named and had not yet held her child in her arms! She had been whisked away for an operation and that's all she knew. She didn't know where her child was. She felt that if she could just hold her child in her arms she would be able to name her. She was so kind with the medics and the porter as they congratulated and supported her. She needed a lot of constant medical attention. Although I couldn't see her, through the separation of our curtain, I mustered the strength to tell her I'd been hearing her story all night. I offered her my congratulations. She thanked me and I drifted off again.
"Have you had a break yet?" I heard the doctor ask Christine as I resurfaced and as he flew to the phone to call round again. "No I haven't" retorted Christine as she pipped some more meds into my cannula. "Take a break now please!" shouted the doctor. "No I can't!" responded Christine firmly. "Take a break now!" the doctor ordered. "I WILL NOT!" replied Christine now changing my dressing. "Please Christine, take a break." I whispered. She responded that she couldn't or else she would lose all of her flow. She had everything on a tight lock-down between all of her patients and to take a break would make her lose this. She said it was better for her to not take a break. The doctor gave up urging her and so did I.
The next time I resurfaced, the porter came back. "I'm back!" he announced as if reporting for duty. Quickly slinging off his jacket I saw him begin to help! I could not believe my eyes! He was 'mucking in', helping in any way that he could. He hooked up drip bags, fetched dressings, held hands, reassured patients, emptied full catheters, assisting the medics in any way he could whilst they were flying from bed to bed.
Finally, in the early hours of the morning, there were four of us patients left. Another nurse had joined the team. Although in her more senior years she seemed more of a liability to the team than a help! She couldn't open packs of dressings and when they were opened for her she couldn't put them on the patient without calling for help from the others. She asked Christine how to administer this and how to do that, then finally announced to the team that she wasn't wearing her glasses and that she couldn't see anything without them. This amused her considerably and she chuckled loudly to herself. In my gleaning of a story, I wondered what on earth she was doing here. I was finding her presence irritating. She wasn't of much help to this amazing team but as more time unfolded, I saw and heard her best function. In her jovial old English lady way, she was especially good at going around all the beds, holding hands and soothing patients in distress. She fetched me a cup of water when I was much in need and my irritation towards her lessened.
Everyone has their place and function. Soothing patients was clearly hers.
At last The doctor had found me a bed! He told me that he would take me there personally. The kind porter also joined him. They told me that the time was just after 4:30am. I asked the doctor his name. His name was Marko. He was from Tuscany in Italy, the porter was from Kerala in South India. I told them that I had visited both their homelands and loved both Tuscany and Kerala very very much.
Finally I commended Marko, Christine and the porter. I let Marko know that what they had achieved that night was nothing short of amazing and extra-ordinary. Shared how deeply I was moved by them and that if I had never been there to witness this night, the whole world would never know what they had done. No one would ever know how they'd kept 11 patients alive that night, giving care to others without rest.
Marko touched my arm gently as they wheeled my bed into the lift "Thank you Kayo. That means so much to me"
I am still struck so deeply and almost overwhelmed at the depth of humanity that I witnessed that night. As they settled me into a single room in ward 13E I swore that one day I would tell the tale of NHS unsung heroes such as these.
