C is for Corridor
When I took this picture, I was trapped in the wheelchair, and had already been in A&E for 6 hours. The only pain relief I was given was 2 x 10mg cohydrolmol
This is the view from the corridor I was wheeled into and left alone in for 3 hours. 17.02.2016 until 00:29. This was by the ambulance entry to the A&E Department. It was February. I was wearing a hospital gown (partially.) I froze.
There was no spot in A&E where I could have been more alone.
I had been isolated.
Chelsea and Westminster Hospital have written to me and stated that a bed on a ward was available at 20:30
Assuming 1 is divine ecstasy due to a lovely night out. 10 is it couldn’t get any worse, I’ve landed in hell.
What score would you give my “Corridor” experience?
Sorry, have to use humour, it’s the only way I can cope with this Chelsea and Westminster Hospital thing.
C is for Cracked Ribs
Each time I tried to get out of the wheelchair with my broken arm and ribs, the air was exhaled from my lungs and I was hit by an extreme wave of pain. As the air left my body, I made a mooing sound.
When I came round from surgery the following day, I was asked, “Are you a Mad Cow?” We then chatted about New York as he was flying off to the Big Apple for the first time that evening. I hope he had a really good time and visited some of the places we talked about.
The cracked ribs meant that I could not escape from the wheelchair.
Where I had been placed in isolation, there was no one around to help. I had been positioned facing away from A&E with my back to the ambulance crew bringing patients in through the side door.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t get anyone’s attention. I could not leave the hospital. If I could have I would have fled.
Now, should I introduce Smith? The chap, I feel, that I have to thank for 48 hours of seizures and the presumed Serotonin Syndrome….
S is such a long way away.