And so we continue our journey through Bob’s stay in hospital this time last year. 30th September was, as days go, pretty unpleasant.
Here is what I wrote on Facebook with a bit of elaboration underneath in italics:
30 September 2016
Today has been pretty horrible. Bob is feeling really unwell. The light at the end of the tunnel is that they have now identified the drug that is going to zap these bugs out of his system so let’s hope he feels better soon.
In the midst of feeling awful, he has been moved and will be moved again by the end of the evening.
It also means the end of unlimited visiting for me which I am finding really hard.
30 September 2016
Finally home after finding that a kind nurse and a set of circumstances made the visiting restrictions slightly more elastic than they first appeared. Bob was sleeping peacefully when I left. Let’s hope that he stays that way when he gets moved, which is still to happen.
Think I will watch Bake Off while I have something to eat.
Now, about this wonder drug. The way it had been sold to us is that the microbiologists were beavering away working out what drug was going to blast the nasty bugs to kingdom come. They had made it sound like it was some designer concoction. So glamorous. They eventually told us about tea time that they had got the new drug sorted but he would have to have it 6 times a day rather than 4. By this point we didn’t care. We just wanted Bob to feel better.
So when the miracle wonder drug arrived, I couldn’t wait to see its name. I was slightly perturbed to see that it was good old Flucloxacillin. More a workhorse than a sexy young new kid on the block. Also, he’d had shedloads of that on the past for other conditions, so I was a bit anxious about whether it would actually work.
Before we got to that point, Bob had been moved out of the nice side room into a bay. This put an end to my unlimited visiting which worried me a bit. He was still pretty weak and I was, I think, able to do various soothing things and help him when he needed stuff.
There was a bit of drama just before lunchtime when he started to have some chest pain. I fetched the nurse who had an ECG machine there practically before I got back to the bed.
The readings were fine but it was a scary experience.
Since Bob had been admitted, we had been amazed by the diligence and the knowledge of the medical students who were examining him. I hadn’t realised that your hands give off huge clues as to what is going on in the deepest recesses of your heart. Students spent hours poring over every millimetre of his hands and nails. How long had he had that lesion? How long had the skin been that colour?
There were also interrogations about every tiny abrasion on his body. They were trying to ascertain how he had got himself into this sorry mess. A blood blister on his foot emerged as the prime suspect, although the verdict was the Scottish “not proven” rather than anything else.
Around dinner time after an exhausting day, we were told that he would be moved again that night, some time before midnight. I was obviously keen to see him settled in his new ward and as visiting time ended, I thought I’d take my chances and see how long I could stay before they threw me out. In fact, there were two other lots of visitors in the bay and I guess if they threw one out, they’d have to throw us all out, so we all benefited from each others’ presence.
My luck eventually ran out at around 10:30 when Bob still had not been moved. I know it’s not ever so stressful being pushed in a bed to new surroundings, but when there are bugs staking claim to your heart, you feel like hell and you just want to be left alone, it’s maybe more of an ordeal than people think.
He was finally moved much later, in the middle of the night. We’ll pick up the story tomorrow.