Jean's Journal: Hospital life
by Jean Farrell
I have always been in good health, thank God. The last time I was in hospital was when my three children were born. I never before had any operation. That is until very recently, on the day of my 75th birthday. It was an experience!
My womb hasn’t been behaving itself (or known it’s proper place) for a long number of years now. It’s been objecting to the fact that it had to carry a ten-pound baby 45 years ago! It never got over it!!
Finally, a gynaecologist decided it was time for my womb and I to part company. A date was set for a hysterectomy in The Beacon Hospital on February 4.
I was very apprehensive and nervous beforehand. My surgery was to take place at 8pm on a Friday night. I worried would they all be worn out and careless, at that late hour of their long week!
As I sat in the waiting area, about to begin all the pre-op procedures, a nurse sat down beside me. She closed the curtains and said, “How are you, Jean?” I mumbled something.
She asked me again how I was. I looked at her kind caring face and burst into tears, much to my astonishment. She took my two hands in hers, listened to my concerns, didn’t interrupt and then assured me that I would be fine.
Recently I wrote about an elderly male patient who left €25,000 in his will to a nurse who was kind to him in hospital. Well, I understand perfectly why he did so now. I understand now how much you appreciate kindness and sympathy when you are worried or anxious, sick or sore.
I spent three days in the hospital and it felt like three weeks. The wonderful staff were from all over the world. As I never had anaesthetic before, my very biggest worry was that I wouldn’t be asleep before they began operating. The anaesthetist assured me that I’d feel nothing, as he administered the magic anaesthetic. My last memory is of him laughing as I said loudly, “I’m not asleep yet!”
The next three days were action packed. I was glad to be in a semi-private ward, which I shared with a lovely woman. We became bosom pals, discussing intimate bodily functions that I had never spoken about before,
How does anyone sleep in a hospital? At 5am my blood pressure was taken, as was my temperature. “Did your bowels move?” the nurse whispered. At 6am urine was drained from a bag attached to me.
I’d only just fallen asleep again when my breakfast arrived, a big treat for me, at 8am. Afterwards, blood pressure, temperature and blood samples were taken again and again, as well as the inevitable burning question of every day, “Did your bowels move?”
The bed were made then. How I would love to have one of those hospital beds at home. By pressing a button, they rise up into a perfect sitting position. When I win the lotto, it will be my first purchase!
We were given a menu each night and could order our 3 meals for the next day. Dinner arrived at noon and tea at 5pm.
There was never a dull moment. I marvelled at how busy everybody was and the enormous amount of management involved in running such a huge hospital.
My new best pal (the woman in the bed beside me) told me the following. When her two sons were aged 12 and 13, she had to come into hospital for an operation. She would be in during a long weekend when some huge sporting event was taking place. She was delighted to be ‘escaping’ from them and was really looking forward to a peaceful television football free week-end, on her own - bliss!
She lived very near the hospital. Her husband and sons arrived into her on the very first morning. Their terrible news was that the football matches were on a television channel that they didn’t have.
Her youngest son, taking up the remote control in his mother’s private room, discovered to his immense delight, that her television has the elusive sport’s channel.
Well, they took up residence with her for the entire weekend. They were there from early morning until the last match was over. She told me that her husband could be very charming, as could the two young lads. They beamed and smiled at all the young nurses who were enchanted with them, “They are just wonderful,” they told each other. “They haven’t left their mother’s side since she came in. Such devotion!” Poor Mammy was less impressed! But, being a mother, she put the pleasure of her sons ahead of her own comfort.
The three days passed and we were both looking forward to going home. However, we discovered that it whilst it is hard to get into hospital, but it’s equally hard to get out.
A cross staff nurse announced, “Your bowel movements are your ticket out of here, ladies. Get moving!” We thought we heard her mention the dreaded word ‘enema.’ Well, we both got moving! We walked up and down the long corridor all day. We drank much water. We got many false alarms, until bingo, alleluia and hooray! At long last we had movement!!
I’m home now for three weeks and am taking it is very easy. I feel well if I do nothing. How does anyone come home after an operation who had toddlers to mind?!
Hopefully I won’t see the inside of a hospital again for a long time!