I think I got up to “Hey, new room! And new IV!!” in the last post.
One of the particularly great things about the new room in the ward was that I was attached to IV pumps on a rolling stand, as opposed to gravity drip feeds on a stand attached to the bed, so I could go wandering about and use the bathroom without needing to be unplugged.
After the ER experience, especially the “Did They Forget Me?” part, this was awesome.
It also meant that, the next (Wednesday) morning, I could have a shower, my first since Monday morning, though they did need to put a protective layer in place first.
Those are eviscerated sample bags with the bio-hazard symbol on them, held in place with a lot of tape that was really good at sticking to skin.
Didn’t care; I really wanted that shower.
The odd thing about this whole process was that, other than when a spasm of pain hit, I was pretty mobile. The only thing keeping me in the bed was the IV line, so once that became mobile, I got to do some wandering, including out to the Sky Garden.
Fresh air, a nice breeze, enough sunshine that I sat in the shade, and gardens which supply the hospital kitchen.
Also a beehive.
It was often too warm to sit out there for long, but I spent some pleasant half-hours reading on a bench, or chatting with the people belonging to one of the therapy dogs.
Eventually ( probably Wednesday night ) they decided I could have a low-fibre diet. ( I’d already gone through clear liquids, then full liquids, though that last one never actually happened before the low fibre thing came in )
The system, rather than “here’s a tray”, was that you call the kitchen, or an agent of the kitchen, on the phone in the room ( I’d not noticed it, as it was on the same wall as a bunch of medical stuff I couldn’t identify ), tell them who you are, then order off the menu; If you’re not allowed a thing, they’ll let you know.
In the fullness of time, it arrives!
Sadly, I made some poor food choices.
I’d had a guess at what the low fibre foods might be, was hopelessly wrong, so asked them what I was allowed and ordered the first thing I recognised.
This was, it turns out, a mistake.
I note that you can see the sofa in the background of this shot.
Quite a nice spot to do some reading, and also when I couldn’t sleep because of restless legs, I could wrap myself in the blanket and move over to there for a while.
Breakfast was another mistake.
Either Cream Of Wheat is just naturally bland and flavourless, or I don’t have a clue what you’re supposed to do with it.
I mean, I ate it, but the napkin had more going on in the taste department.
Too much fibre though.
I got better at fooding as things went on; Thursday dinner was pretty good, and it turns out that baked chicken with french fries was an OK option.
And, of course, pamcakes¹ for Friday breakfast.
There’s not much more to tell about the hospital experience.
I had a lot of fluids and antibiotics pumped into me, had a lot of blood tests, fell asleep during a midnight vitals test so that I woke up with the nurse leaning over me with a thermometer pointed at my face, …
Started feeling nauseous & headachy on the Thursday, and when the surgical team came in in the afternoon and saw me slumped on the couch they were worried, but it turned out to be a few days of not drinking coffee, after a week of a con where I was drinking all of the coffee. A monster Tylenol + Caffeine pill took care of that one.
They took me off the IVs on Thursday, as my white cell count had dropped to a level they were happy with, so they wanted to see whether it’d stay that way on oral antibiotics. Thankfully, it did.
( I suspect an amount of the slumped on the couch feeling dreadful was because I assumed that this was a bad sign on the antibiotics working front, and preceded a trip to Radiology for a drain to be put in )
On Friday, they were happy for me to leave, though they wanted me to stay in town for a while to be sure I was going to be OK.
I had enough warning to book a hotel; Went with a suite hotel in the same complex as the one I’d stayed in previously, partially because of availability & price, but also because the idea of more space to convalesce in had a certain appeal.
Again, it’s that sofa thing.
I could have gone much cheaper if I’d stayed further out, or free had I taken the option of Kevin’s loft, but I wanted to be close to the hospital in case something did go wrong.
The view wasn’t as impressive, though I think I can see my old room from here;
So, I hung around, I relaxed, I did some laundry, and I got some queries from the servers at the JW as to why I was still in town. They were somewhat horrified to find out the reason, which probably led to me having my meal comped on 2 of the four days.
Frank & Kevin came into town on the Sunday, so we grabbed some lunch & went out to Kevin’s to play boardgames.
This one was a Marvel tie-in, Thanos Rising. A cooperative game where we got our asses handed to us the first time around, but won the second game.
During the day I was fielding calls from the insurance company, who wanted to arrange Medical Repatriation.
They were a little concerned at me travelling alone, but eventually came around to the idea that I was OK by myself at the hotel, so I would probably be OK on a plane with many many other people, especially as they were upgrading the seats to make the journey more bearable for me.
They did arrange wheelchairs, which … I did not use, because I did not need them.
Delta First Class on a domestic flight was, to be honest, a bit crap.
Flight didn’t last long enough to get uncomfortable.
Delta One for the transatlantic trip was definitely worth every dollar I didn’t pay. Huge legroom, lie almost-flat seat, glass of prosecco or OJ on boarding, …
The car to take me home from Heathrow was not immediately obvious.
This turned out to be because the company in question, having been given the time but apparently not the flight number, didn’t query the number or simply turn up at the time, but instead decided they’d just wait until I called them. While not answering their phone.
The outfit organising it called me to make sure the car had turned up, weren’t please with the answer, and presumably mad a call of their own.
Eventually I heard from the driver, who did turn up, helped me with my bag, and then spent a chunk of the journey ( until I fell asleep ) telling me how awesome their services were and how I should totally get my company to use them in future, because they turn up when they’re booked to and there’s never any hassle.
There was, in fact, so much of this ( plus some musings on the ‘fit’ nature of nursing staff, because of course he bloody did ) that he missed the motorway turn-off and ended up going the long way back to Aylesbury.
Yep, quality outfit, very reliable.
In fairness, it was still easier than taking the train.
1 – Hellboy’s reaction to eating pancakes for the first time
