How can we
refer to a trolley with curtains around it as a cubicle. A cubicle is something
that at least has some privacy to it. A trolley with see through curtains
around it and big gaps between the joins really isn’t great.
I have
often wondered why on earth our NHS has curtains with such awful patterns on
them, was there some point in the 1960’s when someone in government said, “I
need to buy some stylish curtains to last our NHS into the new millennia” and
they ended up with a job lot of off cuts from a market stall in Peckham.
Its also
strange that no matter which hospital you go to in the UK these
curtains all seem to be the same shade of yellow/green.
So there I
lay, looking through the thin yellow/green curtains into the cubicle next door
and waiting for the skilled nursing staff to come and treat me…….and waiting
for the skilled nursing staff to come and treat me…………………and waiting…..
As I lay
there I noticed a young man who seemed to be doing a lot more running around
than anyone else, every time he passed my gap in the curtains I would nod at
him, and he would smile and nod back. He
took away the lady in the next curtain and replaced her with a mother and
crying child. I could have predicted that this would happen when ten minutes
earlier a miniature blacksmith had started to make a set of horseshoes in the
middle of my brain. He was just reheating the furnace for another round of
heavy banging when a nurse came in and said “Oh”
“hello” I
said, “have you come to treat me” I showed her my fingernails, or lack of them.
At this point I hadn’t really realised that there was more wrong than that,
after all, that was where the blood was coming from.
“Oh” she
said again, then she turned and ran away. I was stunned, I had been oh’d at
twice and shown the curtains, I was leaking on the floor the blacksmith had
just discovered that he had to tools to make large artillery weapons and there
was a crying baby next door. The thin curtains where doing nothing for privacy
and I was starting to really hurt now.
An older
woman put here head around the curtains; she followed this with her body which
was clothed in the dark blue of a ward sister. “Are you Ian” she said “Hmm” I
said. I followed this with a nod. “Oh good” she said and stick a little white
paper sticky label on me, I looked at it, it said R.A.T
I puzzled over
this for a moment and while I was doing this the busy young man came in. He
looked me over, weighed me up and checked my sticky label “Hiya mate, Road
Traffic Accident eh” he took a guess “Motorbike was it” I nodded
“It says
RAT” I pointed out, “Yeah he said, Mary in the office is dyslexic, she had printed
200 of em before we realised”
“There’s a
dyslexic woman doing my hospital records” I asked in disbelief, “No mate, she
just helps out sort of thing” he replied. Well that made it better didn’t it,
she was helping out and without going anywhere near my records she had turned
me into a RAT.
I was moving
again, my trolley was being pushed by a very busy yet very happy young man who didn’t
seem to have a care in the world. I don’t know why but I liked him, I felt sort
of safe in his care and I knew that he wasn’t one of these people who talked to
the injured or the elderly like they were children (its always been one of my pet hates).
It seemed that
I was being taken somewhere else, and in the end I was taken to a bed that was
surrounded by curtains instead of a trolley that was surrounded by curtains.
I was told
to stay on the trolley while he got some help to lift me. I offered to walk off
the trolley and over to the bed, but apparently this wasn’t the done thing. I
had to lie there and be transferred over the proper way.
While I
waited for the team of people to come and move me I went and lay on the bed.
After a few minutes 4 large male nurses marched in like a little army troop,
did something very snappy and clever that involved crossing there arms under me
counting to 3 and saying “hruuumph” together and lifted me back onto the
trolley. They marched back out again, probably going to the top of a hill or
something. When they left I got up and walked back to the bed, I was at least
pleased that they had done what they needed to do, and that I was doing my bit
for full employment within the NHS
My busy
friend came in and admired me on the bed….”better now” he said, I nodded.
NOTE
I never
intended that this become some sort of trilogy, but there seems to be so much
detail that I need to get in. last part to follow soon.
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