panik | Tales of Barnsley Hospital

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Current Location: Yorkshire

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Tales of Barnsley Hospital

Well, Mum saw the consultant again this morning; all her tests are… OK… ish, considering she’s 78 years old and has heart failure. She’s getting another round of tests tomorrow and so long as she’s stable she’ll be home on Wednesday. A relief, though she’s still going to need constant care because she’s so frail now and on the dread Warfarin. It’ll be 2 weeks since they rushed her in by ambulance; 2 weeks since Mark and I dropped everything and came over here.

It’s been an odd 2 weeks; the routine has been unrelenting:

I get up as early as I can bear (being in a constant state of knackerment) and spend the early morning working on book and fics... (To those of you following it, there should be more Academy fic up tomorrow, I hope).

9.00 ish; Dad gets up, wanders about looking confused and complaining of dizziness. I make him a pot of tea and toast and he retreats back to bed to watch Philip and Fern. I go back to my writing.

Middayish: Dad gets up and starts asking the same questions over and over, losing stuff, finding it, losing it again, asking where it is, finding it, losing it again… I remain patient whilst quietly wanting to scream like a banshee.

1pm, more or less: I finally get Dad into the bathroom for his bath (though he may re-emerge several times looking for ‘something’ or go back into the kitchen to make tea). Assuming I’ve heard him actually get in the bath, I alert my sister to keep an ear out t make sure he's OK and go for a work –out, then a run.

2.30: I arrive home sweaty and in need of a shower to find Dad is still in the bathroom. He usually emerges, in a cloud of perfumed steam sometime between 2.45 and 3.00, when I get a quick shower. Dad then hovers between the kitchen, bathroom and bedroom, checking, re-checking and re-re-checking stuff and asking the same questions over and over until around 3.30 – 3.45 and asking repeatedly when visiting time begins (3.30)

Sometime after 4: we arrive at the hospital. Mum decides she needs the bathroom and I spend most of visiting time waiting outside to bring her back to her room (what she does in there is anyone’s business, but it always takes an age).

4.30ish: I head home, leaving Dad behind. He’ll stay with Mum till visiting is over at 5, then eat in the hospital restaurant. I go home and, with Mark, race like a maniac to walk the dog, clean the house, wash dishes, cook our dinner and eat. At 6.15 we return to the hospital. As soon as I arrive, Mum decides she needs a shower. I spend most of visiting hours holding the door shut while she showers – she can’t lock it in case she falls or collapses.

This is actually one of the most amusing times for me, nurses and patients providing a constant floor show – nurses in particular tend to have very loud voices and appear prone to discuss the most vivid details of their sex life at full volume. Today I learned that Maureen, my mum’s clinical nurse, has a new boyfriend, a Greek boy with ‘the biggest todger, and the hugest, most low-slung and hairiest balls’ she's ever seen – and I get the impression she's seen a few; I have no doubt at all that this woman’s experience is vast and wide-ranging. It would appear that’s some serious tackle young Stavros is packing.

Then there’s Eileen. Eileen is actually in for complications from diabetes but is also ‘not all there’ (as my Mum would say). She wanders, grinning, from room to room, waving at the bemused patients and their visitors, sitting on beds, frightening old ladies, laughing oddly for No Apparent Reason and stealing Kendal Mint Cake. On Sunday night, she plucked a carnation from mum’s bouquet and danced with it between her teeth, flamenco style, wearing a pink, candlewick dressing gown and no nightie or knickers. This I know, because she flashed us all on numerous occasions as she flipped her dressing gown in the heat of The Dance. American-Shirley from Charleston’s Husband moaned (in a thick Barnsley accent) ‘Oh dear, I think I’ve gone blind. Or is it just wishful thinking.’

‘Come on Eileen’ is the clarion call of Eileen’s harassed nurses as they herd her back to her own room. Sadly, they don’t sing it in a Kevin Rowland voice.

Then there’s the gay couple in the room next to the shower – I say this so my earwigging appears less gratuitous and more; ‘I’m right there, I can’t help but overhear, as I wait by the door, honestly’. Obviously, there’s not a gay couple in the room, one half is, the other half visits. They both have Tom Selleck moustaches and bicker good-naturedly in camp, northern voices;

Patient-Gay Guy can’t get his telly working (I sympathise; the bloody things are utter bastards of inefficiency. I had to re-boot Mum’s five times tonight just to get it to tune to ITV; though perchance the device had obtained prior knowledge that ‘Rosemary and Thyme’ was on and was simply downing tools in a statement of good taste).

Patient-Gay Guy: Look (pron. luke) at it… Taps screen repeatedly. T’thing doesn’t bloody work, what a waste o’ three quid.

Visitor-Gay-Partner: You’re not doin’ it right…

PGG: I am, look; taps more and harder.

VGG: Oh what are you like? Gi’ it ‘ere.

PGG: Oh go on then, I’ll never hear t’ end on it till you’ve had a try.

VGG: patiently re-boots and starts again; shows working screen with an air of restrained patience.

PGG: Ooh, you’ve got a magic touch.

VGG: (predictably) That’s what they all say.

This is far and away the most entertaining part of my day, which says a great deal, I fear.

Anyway, by the time Mum’s out of the shower (usually having soaked her slippers in the process despite increasingly desperate reminders), visiting time is effectively over. I then have to race down to the next floor to charge up her TV card in the machine so she can watch bloody Rosemary and Thyme (or Heartbeat or Midsommer Murders or something equally grotesque). Dad and I are usually thrown out, long after visiting time is officially over, by the Nurse who Bears the Horlicks.

I'm in and out of that ward so often, I swear I'm getting addicted to the alcohol hand-rub.

Home by 8.30ish: (heaves sigh of relief), I make a pot of tea for Dad and poor Mark (who does all the driving), butter scones for dad and leave him bemusedly watching Big Brother with my sister, asking LOTS of questions (they're both rooting for Brian).

That’s when I get to sit down with fruit, olives, cheese and wine and write this. Best part of the day. (o:

So, I hope you're all well my lovely Flist; sorry I've not been posting or been too quick with the comment lately, but as you can, see I've been busy. ::Blows sugar-coated, rainbow-hued kisses to you all and returns you all to your regular programming:: XXXXXXX

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I've spent more than my share of time with aging parents in the hospital, and I've got more of it ahead of me -- I send hugs, chocolate, hugely well hung greeks, and most of all? Booze :)

*hugs*

LOL. Yeah, the wine, I have aplenty (I made sure of that, never fear!); hugely hung Greeks, sadly, I have none, but I'm probably none the worse for that.

Thanks for the hugs, they're much appreciated. (o:

It does get strange at times, doesn't it?
A sort of weird-surreal-twilight-zone-ish-in-it's-own-peculiar-way kind of experience. If you didn't find something to be amused at you'd cry.

All I can do is tell you I'm thinking of you all.

Sending you lots more positive vibes and virtual wine and chocolate and any other goodies your way.

*Lotsa Hugs*

P.S Sorry, no Geeks, er Greeks, low slung or otherwise. *G*

Of course, you've been here, done it all and danced the Fandango in the pink angora jumper they lent you, haven't you, hon? So you know how it is...

Thanks for the hugs and the vibes and pleasing assortment of good things - ::hugs you back with cherries on top::.

nurses in particular tend to have very loud voices and appear prone to discuss the most vivid details of their sex life at full volume.

Jason says it's much, much worse at 3 in the morning...be glad you're not there then...*g*

I hope your mom does get to come home soon, so you can have some respite from this schedule! ::gives you hugs and sends you wine and olives, and all the virtual Greek low-slung, hairy todger you want::

Oh, believe me, I've *been* in hospitals in the early hours myself and heard a few things but no nurse has a 'gob on 'er' (loc. colloq.) like a Barnsley nurse. They can probably hear them on space stations. Barnsley nurses are all built like barns and are all chain smokers (not in the hospital, obviously - they gather in a little gazebo near the car park. It's softly carpeted with butts (o:).

I've heard a thousand weird and wonderful stories but yesterday's news about the Greek Lad (actual name unknown) made me spurt; it was so very, very loud. (o:

So, do American nurses have equally lurid sex lives then and/or very loud voices? And is this true for nurses in general...? Hmmm. Someone should do a study.

*hugs, sends cheese and wine (olives are yucky ;-))*

Mmmm. The more cheese and wine the better, hon! I shall bring my own olives, then. I have a can of lemon stuffed ones in my cupboard, all ready. (o:

::sends thankful kisses::

Lol, Gilly. Is that okay? Maybe it should be forbidden for something that's obviously such a really hard strain on you to be so entertaining to me. ::cringes in hope of understanding::

So here come my continued encouragements and wishes for this routine to truly be over on Wednesday. ::hugs::

Oh lol away, honey. Like they say, you have to laugh... Really, the stuff that goes on in the hospital; someone should write a sitcom about it. - (Actually, I think they already did, several times (o:).

Hopefully it will all be over tomorrow ::closes eyes tight and crosses everything:: And Dad has the memory doctor coming to see him today. Ah, the joy! ::G::

Ah yes the joys of hospital visiting...

It's the highlight of my day! ::she trilled, in a pink gingham dress and bunches, hopping on one foot like Violet-Elisabeth wirt fingers tightly crossed behind her back::

I'm so sorry, Gilly. I really hope your Mum gets released soon. ::hugs tightly::

Btw, how do you keep your giggles quiet enough to avoid being found out by Maureen and the gay couple??

I have a very, very quiet snicker. And the nurses would never hear me above their own clamour. Heh heh heh.

Ack - you're having a bummer of a time hon. Sending you huge ice cold G&T's, several vats of lemon-stuffed olives, and the ultimate comfort food - warm, soft, oozy garlic bread.

Keep smiling lover.

::hugs::

::Gasps at the addition if warm, soft, oozy garlic bread!:: Oh MAN! You know I'm going to be craving that all evening, now!

Mmmmm. Smiling? Yup; I can do that. (o:

::hugs you back, hard::

About hospital in France see this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LjjK4jmKSzk, friends working in hospital recognized some little things .
Sending good thoughts to you and yours.

With my folks and my in laws. Could be worse (don't you hate when people say that?)

We had the hospital pull us aside politely to ask us to stop my husband's elderly parent's from having sex-it was squicking out father in law's roommate!

Now ~there's~ a mental picture I need a shark to take from my mind...*ick*, but had to laugh.

Oh, oh... Hmm, now that would be exciting in a 4 person ward. Urm... No; sorry, that's not right! Clearly FIL wasn't all that sick, then?

It was a quiet night last night - nothing to report, sadly. (o:

MIl had medium Alzheimers and FIL had diabetes and (just about to be diagnosed) cancer.

So, I can sort see ~why~, it's just that I didn't ~need~ to know. lol

Oh, wow... sorry. I was just thinking, you couldn't be that ill, of you were able to have sex in a hospital bed.

Yep, been there, done that. You have my sympathy.
It's very hard to cope with and yes, you do find the strangest things to laugh at. My mum's things were the chocolate biscuits, the veering to the left and getting a room to herself because she was agreeing with the woman who thought people were going through her locker...

"My mum's things were the chocolate biscuits, the veering to the left and getting a room to herself because she was agreeing with the woman who thought people were going through her locker..."
Hmmm. Care to elaborate (about the choccy bikkies, especially)

I'll explain fully when I see you soon, but basically she wasn't aware of of her left side and the staff at the hospital would insist on giving her choccy biccies. This was fine when it was in her right hand, but she forgot after she moved it to her left...
and as I had to do all her washing...
I had to extricate the choccy bikkies from her her nightie when I arrived and had to wash a chocolate covered nightie every evening when I got home.
It was funny at the time...

Oh dear... ::giggles despite self::

"I'll explain fully when I see you soon"
I look forward to it. (o:

LOL. As anticipated the nurse in the other bed s proving a great source of relief and amusement. Tonight we had a lengthy, detailed and involved conversation about 'House' through her curtains - just a disembodied voice; deeply amusing.

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Tales of Barnsley Hospital

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About french hospitals

Ah, have been there and done that.

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