I have read about blogger’s burnout and never thought I would suffer the same fate. Admittedly, over the past few months, I think I have shown signs of it. Looking back over the year and the strength of topics covered or articles written, these past few months have waned in their interest. My stats reflect my opinion too.
Sadly, reality has taken its toll on my writing and though I can bang out a quick story for you or release a new chapter in Cecil’s life, my core writing ability or hard news is practically non-existent, which is a shame. I have spent so much time in hospitals over the past few months and only come up with a few blogs and maybe one or two poems on patient care, which I think is pretty weak. The reason I haven’t been able to write a constant stream of updates and newsworthy articles is because it is a bit too close to home, and I don’t feel strong enough to share it yet. The few things have have seeped out are probably through my desperation to find an answer in this crazy world of sickness and as I embark on another episode of hospital visits again, I’m considering whether it’s a worthwhile post.
Yes, I was back at the A&E with my mother last night. It was far more interesting and taxing as she was conscious and felt the full weight of how long it takes to be seen on one of the busiest nights at the A&E. After arriving at six, she was admitted to the Acute Medical Unit at eleven, a decent five hours. For her, it felt like five years! We tried explaining to her that that was pretty fast as past experience saw us waiting far longer. At least they had a better background knowledge of her with me explaining things a hundred times to the doctor on call and the nurses. Everyone was pleasant and made every effort to help her, looking past her grim looks of disapproval and constant bashing of how useless the hospital was to her.
What amused me was the fact that I pointed out my mother’s paralysed arm and they still insisted on asking her to move it so that they could find a decent vein for the cannula! After twisting her arm and making her scream, they decided to listen. I didn’t know that only doctors could instal a cannula into a person’s leg in this country and nurses and not permitted to do that. Why is that?
When the doctor arrived, they still insisted on putting the cannula in her paralysed hand and told me to ensure the nurses on the ward put her hand in the right position so that the fluids didn’t gather in case her hand twisted. Yeah sure! I asked again if they could put it in her leg, but no, they flatly refused. The doctor lifted up the sheets and I explained that it was put into her paralysed leg so that she could move her other one freely and they had no problems with this when she was previously admitted. He pointed out the fat juicy veins that didn’t hop or disappear, but the head nurse and her counterparts had already inserted the needle for the fourth attempt into the hand, reinforcing it with padding because it was at an odd angle and could pop out. The tube was taped to her hand brace and hey presto, she was ready to go. It was a pity to see the head nurse perform all this without gloves on whilst her lower subordinate had changed her gloves frequently. I guess more experience means a lack of caring for the minor details.
This is why I discourage myself from blogging about the hospital visits. It’s so unfair to shine a dark light over the care patients receive as it is not always bad. The nurses that took care of my mum over these last few weeks was amazing. I await to see the care she receives during her current stay and which ward she will be thrown in. I’m assuming she will be back on one of the renal wards.
Have a lovely Saturday and I hope you all keep safe and healthy.
Don’t forget to join me tonight for Saturday Night Confessions! See you later. xx