Ostomy Memories of the Hospital

MY POSTING HAS BEEN OFF due to brief illness and two days hospitalized for dehydration, but I’m home and fine now. I got the usual blast of bureaucratic absurdities while in the hospital, many of them hilarious. My arrival in ER, after the usual wait, began with an EKG. Not only did it show my heart was fine, but the operator said “That’s the prettiest picture I’ve seen in quite a while.” Notwithstanding that, they installed a heart monitor on me, a clumsy, pain in the patoot to have to live with each time you walk from the bed to the bathroom. I wasn’t able to get a straight answer about it but deduced it was because I was 78. It added to the difficulty of emptying my pouch, along with the IV tubing, and the emptying was constant due to the IV itself.  I waited in a chair in ER for 12 1/2 hours before they had a room for me.   Once upstairs, the needle pokes commenced. Because my veins are not conducive to blood draws, and the techs would have to poke me over and over again before getting blood, my left arm is black and blue from the elbow to the wrist. One blood tech showed up at 2:30 AM, woke me up, and announced her presence and purpose. I asked to go to the bathroom first. When I came out, she was gone and never returned. Later that morning, a nurse asked me about it. I told her what happened. She said that the tech claimed I “left and never came back.” Did she think I was hiding in the bathroom? I was in there only as long as it took to empty, clean, & close. Another nurse was Jamaican and spoke with such a thick accent, I couldn’t understand a word she said. She’d ask me something, I glance at my wife, she’d interpret, and I’d respond. Later in the evening, she said that she’d look in on me several times during the night to check on me. “Why?” I asked. “To see if you’re still breathing,” she said. On one of those visits, after she’d listened to my chest, she said (I thought), “I need to scan your leg.” “Scan my leg?” I croaked, incredulous. It turned out she needed to scan the bar code on … my tag. Happy to be home.

Hi Henry, glad to hear you're feeling better. Yeah, those hospital stays suck big time. I had to wear one of those heart monitors for 24 hours at home after I had an A fib attack after surgery a few years ago, and they are a pain in the butt.

Glad you're home and doing well, Henry. And there you go with the "notwithstanding " again. Gives you away every time. You'd never make it as a spy.

Laurie

Oh Henry, I'm glad you are getting better. It seems we go to the hospital for one thing and end up having a whole bunch of stuff done. What the hell are they checking for a barcode? I thought you were in the hospital, not Walmart, lol. Anyways, good to have you back. XX

Hi Henry,

Good to have you back. I was a bit worried when you didn't post for a couple of days and even pictured you in hospital for some reason, so I'm happy to hear you are home, safe and healthy. I wasn't even going to post about my recent experience, but I think you will be able to relate and empathize. I arrived at hospital on the 29th at 9:30 a.m. for my scheduled 11:30 a.m. surgery. This was to be to remove the rest of my large bowel and sew up the old colostomy site, leaving me with just the ileostomy which is quite enough, thanks very much. I was prepped and gowned, an IV line run (with some difficulty, pincushion anyone?) then waited and waited to be taken to the OR. After a couple of hours of being told they were running behind but my surgery would be going ahead, I was finally wheeled down to the OR, only to be met by my surgeon who told me it had to be cancelled as an emergency (a perforated bowel!) had just come in and they needed the OR. I should mention that my pre-surgery prep was extensive, being sent for an ECG, an XRay and bloodwork, not to mention getting a Covid test. I had returned from our cottage for all the prep and the surgery. To add insult to injury, they could not get ahold of my husband, who was out, not expecting me to be calling for a ride home! I had no money or credit cards as they tell you not to bring them to the hospital with you. I had to call a cab and ask if they would deliver me home and let me go in to fetch my credit card. They agreed. Now I have a "possible" surgery date of August 25th. I'm trying to find the positives in this, trying being the operative word here. I can enjoy more of the summer without having to recover from surgery.

Here is hoping that you stay out of hospitals and I get back in soon, for the right reasons of course.

Cheers,

Terry

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Henry, glad you're home now. Stay hydrated and well.

Hi Henry, good to see that you are doing ok...the phrase in the Wild West of Ireland would be (some translation required...). "Sitting up and eating a bit." Eating = Eating. We figure if you can eat the huge hospital dinners in Ireland, you must be doing ok. I always loved the Irish hospital food, looks like Mammy made it herself!!! Lol...well actually somebody's Mammy made it. Yip...Mammy is still called Mammy by most.

Now I'm talking like the Daddy/Uncle Aunt etc. who always comes up with the, "In my day we had to walk/run ten miles to school, in the snow without socks...barely had shoes...all you gang were born in the kitchen while Mammy continued to make bacon and cabbage to keep you from starving..." My hardship hospital rant follows. My hometown is in the Wild West of Ireland (still mostly empty beautiful space, bogs, rocky fields, and pretty lakes) which I love. However, to get to my Surgeon appts I have to take a 3 1/2 hour train trip followed by a sometimes 2-hour bus ride. The appts are only before noon so going the day before is really the only way to make the appt. Luckily my brother lives in Navan, many miles outside Dublin where my Surgeon is located. The 2-hour bus ride is to my brother's house. The bus into the city leaves early so up at 6 am, brother drives me to the bus. Almost two hours to the city. Then a cab or another bus out to the hospital. I get there for my 9 or ten am appt. Wait for my turn usually an hour or so after my appt time. Finally get into the little room. 2nd or 3rd in command comes in..."So how are we today," says he/she, "any problems to report?" If I have an important question I can see the man himself. Usually, my appt lasts ten or fifteen minutes.

Back on the bus to brother's house where I stay the night because the last train has left, so this makes two nights. Two-hour bus ride to the train and another 3 1/2 hours to get home...finally. Get my car and some Chinese and sleep for 12 hours if lucky.

If I was not lucky enough to have my wonderful bro and missus I would need a B&B or hotel for two nights, dinner, and lunch in a restaurant. Accommodation in Dublin is as expensive as in Manhattan!!! Without the nice weather.

Mind you, I'm not complaining, it gives me a good excuse to visit bro, wife, and all my East side nieces and nephews who I love dearly and love to visit them. They run out the door screaming "the crazy man is here" as they giggle and run out to greet me. I get along great with kids and they are hilarious.

Anyway Henry, that's how long it takes to complete my 15-minute Surgeon/Doc appt. The docs, nurses, and treatment are all excellent and a pleasure to deal with and in recent years have not required any of their scalpel skills to cut me open.

About the school situation...I went to an all-male high school run by priests and brothers (before you ask...No, never saw or dealt with any perverts of the cloth, just got the odd punch or whack on the back of my head for missing an answer). We had an hour for lunch and my house is 15 or 20 minutes walk each way. Just enough time to gobble down some lunch and run all the two miles back...and yes indeed sometimes in snow but usually in rain then get a whack for coming in with wet hair!! My hair was past my shoulders and last two years had a beard so dripping everywhere when back at school. We needed no PE for those 5 years, got lots of sprinting action on lunch breaks!!

Dublin is a madhouse for driving so I do anything to avoid driving in the city area. The appointment schedules are a bit better but happily have not required one in a few years

Your fellow Bagger Eamon, stay safe and stay healthy.

You sure you didn't accidentally find your way to Australia, Henry? I've been in that hospital.

Hello HenryM.

Thank you for your vivid account of your hospital visit and I am pleased you came out of it relatively unscarred. It is also pleasing to read so many replies from people with both similar and different (but informativre)  experiences. Your posts tend to bring out the writers in the group which helps make the discussions lively and interesting. It's great to have you back!

Best wishes

Bill  

The hospital band that they put on your wrist when you check in has a bar code on it to identify you.  Somehow your name and DOB, right next to it, aren't enough.  Then, every single time a nurse or aide comes into your room to do something to you, they have to scan the bar code.  Now that I think about it, it likely also makes a record for billing purposes.  Happy times.

Hiya Eamon.  I appreciated reading your tale, as it reminded me of my time living in Utah's middle-of-nowhere.  It was beautiful there, but medical providers (and other common needs) were at least a two-hour drive away.  My wife would have to pack me up for that trip, often at night, when I have dehydration recur.  Then, one winter, she slipped on the ice and broke her wrist.  The evening I drove her home from surgery was through a blizzard on a desolate country road running north of the Grand Canyon.  The proverbial "health reasons" was a big part of why we left Utah.  Stay well.  HenryM

Hi Henry and all the Baggers Gang, about the constant scanning and the consequences of not being scanned fifty million times a day!!! Saw a piece that a transplant patient had the wrong kidney removed... now he has zero kidneys. If I cut a joist wrong, I can just cut another one!!! In Dublin, I had to verbally respond with every scan with my full name and DOB so they wouldn't cut a leg off by mistake. Maybe I would get lucky and get a colon transplant!!?? That would be a nice mistake, lol...

Bill is correct, your posts really get the wannabe writers going...

Happy days and good health to all.

Mister Magoo.

Glad to hear you're home, Henry, and I hope you are doing well. I'm also glad to hear that I'm not the only one that needs an interpreter. :-)