The “Not So Healthy” and The NHS
It suddenly occurred to me as I dialled ’999′ the other day, that if something terminal were to occur that I still had a lot to say…
Moreover, having survived the episode, which, some readers may relate to, (whilst others may simply conclude that my predicament was largely self inflicted and therefore made me a blight on the resource of our beloved institution the NHS) that I should record the episode for what good it may do.
There have been so many cases during the last few years that have led to negligence cases against hospitals that new policies were put in place to protect those employee whistle blowers who have simply seen too much and are too appalled to keep zip lipped about working practices… But, really, we have all seen these corporate policies before and whilst the naïve may hold up the red card to their bosses, they soon evaporate or are managed out of their positions.
I am an author and an interviewer, low to middle grade in most senses of The Word (excuse the pun and the link for those who know me!) and here is a bit about me that most will not know…
1. I am not a great drinker, in fact prior to a fortnight ago, I have probably drank no more than a bottle or two of wine in the last decade… I joke about drinking on occasion as it makes one appear “normal”.
2. I have suffered fairly chronic insomnia for most of my life… born into a fortunate household I was sent to boarding school at the age of 8 and would roam the dormitories at night whilst everybody else slept peacefully. The school matron would often catch me wandering around, and rather than assist me in getting to sleep, she would tan my backside with the heel of her slipper…”six of the best” as it was then known. I was no stranger to a good caning back then, though I hasten to add, my parents have never raised a hand to me other than to waggle a finger of frustration at me on the odd occasion!
3. In recent times I have had to live, day and night, with a high pitched whining in my left ear, something which has driven me to distraction…
4. About a fortnight ago my better half went away on holiday with the kids. I felt I could not go due to commitments etc back home, something I now seriously regret!
5. Finally, I should add that shortly before this episode I was recovering from sun stroke, having decided to try and sleep in the garden after yet another sleepless night in bed! Whilst I was considering that little episode over and done with, it would make sense that I was probably still rather dehydrated…
So, with the scene set, I drive everybody to the airport and return to find myself “Home Alone”.
Now, many distraught parents may have yelled “Whoopee!” time and space and freedom etc etc… But, I am quite the opposite by personality and whilst the first night went not too badly I already hadn’t slept for a week or so. I kept myself busy, God did I have a lot to do that week…
During this time I would every now and again open the fridge, I have been the household cook for sometime now, but on each occasion I would think “Ahhh, there’s no point! Too much to do, why go to all that time and effort and tidying up just for me…” and occasionally I would resort to the odd sandwich to keep hunger at bay.
It was about the third day of being alone that I became acquainted with the term “Silence can be deafening” and with no background chatter or noise, the whining in my ear finally drove me to distraction. Most people at this point head towards the doctor’s surgery, but in my stupidity and anxiety over what I needed to achieve I thought perhaps a tipple of something might be in order. After all, it wouldn’t harm, nobody was home, it might make the whining go away enough for me to focus, and, more importantly to me at that time, it might enable me to get a good night’s sleep…
Ha! It was a no brainer… So, what to buy… Hmmm, a Merlot, Chianti… in fact red or white… actually I do remember years ago finding Bacardi with coca cola over ice being quite refreshing, and given the recent spate of hot weather… Yes that sounded good… So, I headed off to the supermarket in positive mood that I would be sleeping well that night.
It was great… It was refreshing… I worked, the whining dissipated and then I slept… for about 4 hours! The strange thing was that much of the work I had accomplished was lousy, but the additional dilemma that then haunted me was that my head was banging so hard as I woke up and it was still the middle of the night. I sat up, wrote several appalling and probably incomprehensible emails to friends whilst I had a less than refreshing few more drinks… Hey, c’mon it was still dark right? At some period later I headed back to bed, to wake when it became light…
Mission accomplished one might think… Oh no! Now, I am feeling awful… water and ibuprofen were breakfast… I got back to work. By lunchtime I feel rather odd… “shouldn’t have gone for spirits” I thought, but heck, I am not functioning too well here… Perhaps, just perhaps… if I go to the supermarket and get something less potent, that will allow me to function and I’ll be fine tomorrow, besides I can walk to the supermarket and get some fresh air, that should help!
On my return I recall decanting a bottle of port into my sparkling Stuart crystal decanter… I figured drink in style, after all I have standards you know! I merrily pinged the crystal glass which hasn’t felt the touch of a lip in over a decade, absolute nectar… I was quickly on a roll with work and feeling 100% better. I worked my way through the night, ermmm… the entire bottle of port and the best part of a box of red wine… I worked until it was light. At dawn, I realised the err of my ways and in some form of self disgust at my irresponsible behaviour I recall pouring away what was left of the box of red wine before heading off to bed…
When I woke, I quickly realised that not only was I letting others down by the actions of the previous two days, but I was letting the quality of my work slip. I was also letting down my absent other half, those who support me and of course myself! I decided that pain was likely required. I had to bring myself back to a state of normality before collecting the better half, I had to get some proper sleep, I had projects to finish, I had to eat!! I headed to the shop to buy some fruit and proper food… and for some reason that I still can’t fathom, returned with a bottle of wine… Just the one, but nevertheless it was a bottle of wine. It was consumed in a single sitting and that I vowed was that!!
The following day I didn’t actually feel too bad, I went for a walk of some 8km around Chorley, through the park and got some badly needed fresh air into my lungs. Thank God… My concentration levels were low, but I guessed there would be some pain attached with this ‘binge’ and associated factors of not sleeping, the return of the whining, onset of hunger for ‘proper’ food etc. I simply didn’t realise how much… I drank a huge amount of water that day and rather a lot of coffee, but I did feel myself becoming human again. It was a long day and bearing in mind I was now closing in on two weeks without a proper night’s sleep, I forced myself to lie in bed, with the hope of at least getting some sleep…
I don’t quite know how much sleep was involved, but it soon became light. On opening my eyes I felt really quite positive. I sat on the side of the bed and reached for some clothes. On standing up straight… it hit me like a thunderbolt! Dizziness, Spots of lights shooting in front of my eyes… I sat, or rather fell back on to the bed…
“It’ll go away… It has to, I’m not doing a shop run today! Not for anything…”
I was sincere in that last thought and decided after several minutes to head downstairs… It was a long journey, my legs were behaving like elastic bands, I was nauseous, and the lights were still flashing in front of my eyes… I headed straight to the fridge and engulfed the best part of a litre of orange juice before wondering what on earth I could consume to bring my depleted sugar levels up. Short on ideas and with virtually no knowledge of nutritional food values, I headed straight for the ice cream compartment of the freezer…
“A few hours and I’ll be good again!” I convinced myself… I ate a huge amount of sugar related products and decided to head back to bed for an hour or so whilst I waited for the food to be absorbed into the blood stream and the feeling to pass, but my anxiety levels were hitting new levels, I had a new fear. I was “Home Alone”, I was ill… Should I call an ambulance? Would I be wasting their time? You hear so many stories about time wasters… Give it a few hours, I lay on the bed, my heart was pounding and I began sweating profusely.
It was actually 5 hours that I gave it… but the previous elasticity of my legs had by then spread throughout my body, turning me into a 6 foot gyrating mass of blubber… I caved and called ’999′.
This is actually where today’s blog begins, but to all those youngsters out there, or anybody in fact looking for an answer, short term or otherwise, from a bottle… Let me tell you, there is nobody more shocked than I at how quickly my body caved! Granted, my schedule, diet, anxiety levels and probable dehydration due to the sunstroke all played a part. But, I am left in no doubt that the alcohol tipped the balance and I have learned a valuable lesson…
I spent the next two days in a hospital bed, having faced the embarrassment of being carted away by ambulance to the local hospital, more so embarrassing as I was likely to bump into people I knew there as my better half was an ex-employee!
With my blood pressure at astronomical levels, I was pumped full of fluids and vitamins intravenously and had to recount the entire sorry tale on multiple occasions to multiple members of staff who, whilst outwardly were incredibly supportive, would be forgiven for thinking “What a prat!”
My gripe starts here…
The National Health Service is an incredible institution, there are actually parts of it that do make money, but our government is selling it off, piece by piece, only the profitable parts of course. It is selling partial services, the one’s that make money, whilst hanging on to the parts that cost the tax payers money. That in itself sucks!
The front line staff are over worked, on the first evening I hit the “help” button… 25 minutes later somebody came to see if I was OK… To put that in context, the ambulance had only taken 14 minutes to arrive at my house after making the ’999′ call. But, I don’t blame the staff for this, there were people much more deserving of attention across the same ward.
I do blame the management, and I am not talking of the junior managers, but those executives who run these “Trusts” as they are now known… Pencil pushers with nice suits who take home six figure salaries and amass huge pensions whilst cutting wages, grades and throwing millions of pounds into pathetic and senseless initiatives whilst their staff are left with either the wrong or outdated tools to carry out their jobs effectively.
A great example of this is for those who took my details, I mean my entire personal details from name to previous health issues. I have for the best part of my career managed processes… This senseless admin should take place once and then all staff who require access should have that without going through the entire process time after time after time… The administration is prehistoric, the NHS is now so target driven that health has become a bi-product to hitting senseless targets and those trained to treat people are wasting incredibly valuable time repeating basic administration tasks!
My time in hospital was a real eye opener. It was shocking… I saw one lady on each day with what I can only describe to be a dry mop/duster. She was literally pushing the dust around, it was not being removed, just redistributed. I could see something under the bed opposite, it was some form of wrapper and is probably still where I saw it… after all it had remained there for the duration of my 48 hour stay and her two visits to the ward.
Is it any wonder that once the cannula was removed prior to my discharge that my entire arm quickly became infected to such an extent that I had to return within 48 hours with an infection so bad that more antibiotics had to be pumped into me intravenously during the next three days?
The government need to be honest with the people of this country. If you’re attempting to make the NHS lean to sell it off, tell people, let the people vote on it. Don’t covertly slice away at it until the public, that’s right, us little people who pay taxes, have nothing left to vote about. It’s not a politician’s toy but a bastion of our country and one of the few things left worth fighting for in the UK.
In terms of my own predicament… well, a 44 year old man should know how to look after himself better. I only have one person to blame for most of what has happened, though the whining in my ear drove me to make some rather disastrous decisions. I apologise to P and K (you know who you are) for this blip and to all others who may feel let down by what has taken place during the last couple of weeks. But before I close I want to firstly recount something I posted on Facebook a day or two ago… A major reason why I should not feel sorry for what a mess I got into, but also a major reason why the NHS should be protected and remain available to the vulnerable…
“For all those who have sent good wishes I am indeed on the mend…. A very scary couple of days following a painful few with sunstroke. But, that said I was in bed opposite a quite remarkable man. I think it would be unfair to mention his full name so will simply call him Ed! Ed has suffered from MS for 17 years, he has Asthma, COPD and is essentially paralysed from the head down, unable to feed himself, move any part of his body, he also has an eye condition which I can’t remember/pronounce. 17 years ago parts of his body simply stopped working. Ed is one of the most humorous men I have had the privilege of meeting in a very long time. He was moved to a respiratory ward just before I was discharged from the hospital, and whilst I know the only humour he enjoys comes from the spoken word as opposed to any form of books or internet etc. If anybody reading from Chorley hospital happens to see him apologise that I missed his departure to the other ward and wish him all the best, we had many a conversation to which he answered “Yes, but you gotta laugh!” The man was an inspiration and rather well liked by the staff who have known him on and off for many years. If a man like that can retain his sense of humour then who am I to feel sorry for myself…. It makes one think….”
If you can relate to this post, or know anybody that may learn from it, please share it… This has been Simon Duringer… Rambling On!
If you haven’t lost the will to live by reading this, perhaps you will take a moment to watch my latest short video ad… The Word Volume 1 supports the Royal British Legion with 10% of all proceeds…
