The skinny one and I fronted the hospital (early) for his 9am appointment yesterday.
The admissions nurse was one of our neighbours - which shocked both of us.
He was given the stunning attire to change into, complete with hat and booties. And did.
And we waited.
Ten am: Still waiting.
Eleven am: Ditto
12 noon: You guessed it.
People in the waiting room came in, people in the waiting room moved out. We waited some more.
1 pm: Still waiting.
2 pm: 'Second verse, same as the first...'
2.30 pm: He was finally moved to a trolley, destination the theatre. We were told that it would be 6pm before he was in a ward and I could talk to anyone.
So I came home. Fed the cats. Dealt with their kitty litter. Put out the garbage and the recycling. Dried his dressing-gown which I had washed before we left for the hospital. Waited.
6 pm: I rang the hospital to be told that he had only entered recovery less than half an hour earlier. He wouldn't go to a ward until 7.30 or so. 'There are no phones in recovery so I can't put you through or talk to them and relay how he is on to you' (liar, liar pants on fire...)
I rang at 8pm. 'No, he hasn't reached a ward yet... Ring in half an hour or so'
So I did. He has just got to the ward (hooray) but we are too busy to talk to you. Ring back later.
So I gave up and went to bed myself. Trusting, hoping that they would ring me if anything went pear-shaped.
He has had the surgery. He is alive. Both good things.
And today is a whole new day.
The admissions nurse was one of our neighbours - which shocked both of us.
He was given the stunning attire to change into, complete with hat and booties. And did.
And we waited.
Ten am: Still waiting.
Eleven am: Ditto
12 noon: You guessed it.
People in the waiting room came in, people in the waiting room moved out. We waited some more.
1 pm: Still waiting.
2 pm: 'Second verse, same as the first...'
2.30 pm: He was finally moved to a trolley, destination the theatre. We were told that it would be 6pm before he was in a ward and I could talk to anyone.
So I came home. Fed the cats. Dealt with their kitty litter. Put out the garbage and the recycling. Dried his dressing-gown which I had washed before we left for the hospital. Waited.
6 pm: I rang the hospital to be told that he had only entered recovery less than half an hour earlier. He wouldn't go to a ward until 7.30 or so. 'There are no phones in recovery so I can't put you through or talk to them and relay how he is on to you' (liar, liar pants on fire...)
I rang at 8pm. 'No, he hasn't reached a ward yet... Ring in half an hour or so'
So I did. He has just got to the ward (hooray) but we are too busy to talk to you. Ring back later.
So I gave up and went to bed myself. Trusting, hoping that they would ring me if anything went pear-shaped.
He has had the surgery. He is alive. Both good things.
And today is a whole new day.
Oh dear. Unbelievable public relations!!
ReplyDeleteA virtual hug from me, and fingers crossed that all is well.
Sorry it was such an awful, all day experience! Pray everything went well.
ReplyDeleteI know we are supposed to be grateful for our medical system but sometimes...
ReplyDeleteSending you a lot of love!
I hope you're graced with mounds of good news today.
ReplyDeleteWow, that sounds like a day of waiting designed to make you nuts. I hope you got nothing but good news today. (And no more waiting!)
ReplyDeletePositive thoughts across the miles for a speedy and smooth recovery.
ReplyDelete(My daughter's experience of the system was that she was sent home 4 times/4 separate occasions before she finally made it to theatre!)
All good wishes to the skinny one - get well soon!
I want to come over and help you kick a few booties around the corner! Well, I suppose no news is good news, as far as overnight. I hope you won't find the mealy-mouthed runaround you did the last surgery though. Take your broom with you when you go to talk! And a photo of Jezebel. Hell, take some of her punch with you and spike the water cooler.
ReplyDeleteHugs!
Oh come on, it wasn't all bad - at least they took him to the theater! (eye roll) I wonder what they'd do if you just showed up 6 1/2 hours past your appointment time, since based on their past performances that would make you right on time. Doubt they'd see it our way, huh?! Glad the SP is through yet another surgery (are they using him for practice???) and hope he's back home and fully recovered soon! And that YOU aren't run ragged!
ReplyDeleteOh, Oh, Oh...sorry you had to endure this on top of the surgery in the first place. I do wish things could go smoother for many people, you and child included for sure!!
ReplyDeleteI have been reading a book I think you might like. It is on next year's list for book club. The Light Between Two Oceans...about people living in a lighthouse on coast of Australia. When you have time, it might be a nice escape for you! Until later.....
Hanging in there with you, EC. I am simply stunned at the incompetence and complete lack of empathy at this hospital you describe. That said, I do hope everything will be moving up from this point. Sending you both lots of love.
ReplyDeleteSounds just like the NHS here, but I'm glad he is alive. Hope his recovery is swift. I'm taking my dad to the hospital tomorrow and I know all about waiting and waiting...
ReplyDeletei was thinking of you all day and thought it was probably no point trying to tell you so. if only i had known i could have provided a diversion for ....oh, maybe a nanosecond!
ReplyDeletehopefully the worst is over for you
xo
Oh EC :( what a long day indeed. I am sure you are already on your way up there to see him. Best xx
ReplyDeleteWishing you both very well indeed.
ReplyDeleteOne of the first things I thought about when I woke this morning, was how SP's surgery went, and how you were.
ReplyDeleteContinuing to send positive, healing thoughts your way xx
My best hopes for you both.
ReplyDeleteOh I'm so glad. Alive is half the battle, the other half are the hospital staff. Sincere happiness for you both, and everything crossed that this time is the last he needs to have any surgery. You both need a break. Hugs X
ReplyDeleteIn the midst of all this, take care of yourself.
ReplyDeleteThis is quite the onward and upward journey. We'll hold off the good news until tomorrow. Take care.
ReplyDeleteOh, what a crappy day. Isn't waiting the absolute worst? Well, you're right, he survived the surgery (YAY!) and as I'm writing this you're probably having a well deserved snooze. Hope all goes well tomorrow. Hugs and love.
ReplyDeleteAll positive thoughts and prayers your way so you have good news. Waiting is probably the hardest part. I've been there. Take care of yourself. Dragon Hugs.
ReplyDeleteI can imagine how stressful all that waiting must have been. More than anything, I hope all turns out well and your skinny one is home again soon.
ReplyDeleteI haven't been around for quite a while. Nice to visit your blog again. Take care.
Oh! Dear! How frustrating and exhausting for you both. What a day! I hope today is much better and only good news comes your way.
ReplyDeleteThank you one and all. I have been relaying your messages of support to the smaller portion - and they have warmed his heart as they have mine
ReplyDeleteI am hoping that today will bring you both good news.
ReplyDeleteWell bloody hell! Why do they always make you wait so long?
ReplyDeleteI checked this out yesterday but in my rush forgot to leave a comment.
ReplyDeleteWhy is they target you and the SP for this dastardly treatment every time.
Main thing, the op went ahead, he is alive and hopefully all is well this time.
Phil was in a private hospital several years ago for gall bladder op. Had to be there 8.30. Karen and I decided to sit with him as we knew he would be nervous. He finally had surgery at 6pm and then into intensive care overnight. Fortunately I was allowed to pop into intensive care to see for myself he was OK. The treatment in there was wonderful but so much in the ward.
Now off the check today's report which I hope is going to read OK.
All that waiting must be maddening! I'm glad he at least got the surgery - yes, a good thing.
ReplyDeleteDear Sue, it is the waiting and the gloom that descends that make a bad situation even worse. I so hope that when I read the next posting, I'll discover that the operation went well and that he's going to be okay. I go and read it now. Peace.
ReplyDeleteOh, that horrid waiting for the surgery. Then waiting for the patient to be out of surgery. Then waiting.......
ReplyDeleteI remember it so well with my mum.
My apologies for my tardy response. Dear god ... what a nightmare you're all having. I suspect my nerves would be positively frayed and my temper ... well, I'm sure you can imagine.
ReplyDeleteChin up. If it's possible.