When i was first admitted to hospital in 2013 i was drip fed. I wasn't given anything to eat, i didn't go hungry either. I was fed by tube. It was a strange feeling which i grew used to and it lasted for a couple of months. I wasn't in a fit state to argue with them, even if i wanted to. Eventually, they returned me to eating proper food. I don't remember drinking anything, but i must have had thickened fluids or maybe i was given something to drink through my stomach. I don't remember.
it all seemed so long ago. Eating food again was something which i loved. It felt like i'd never been away, but i had. In the evenings i had shepherd's pie and mushy peas. I had it for three weeks. They looked at me as if i was mad or something and asked me if i wanted to try something else for a change, but i turned them down. It was just unbeatable food. If you love something badly enough you'll stik with it. Meanwhile, Frances introduced me to thickened pineapple juice. I loved it and was thankful that the long and arduous nightmare that i'd been through was coming to an end at last.
Then the hallucinations came thick and fast. They were due in part to my medication and the other part that i was suffering from a brain injury. They were very real though. Scary too. All the time the powers that be felt unable to talk to me. Instead they treated me like a kid when i wanted was to be treated like an adult. I was far more mature than they gave me credit for. It got to the stage that my life was in danger thanks to their condescending ways and failure to be honest with me. I'd like to see it change where they're not allowed to whisper in front of you and that they give a straight answer to a straight question.
That's the least you deserve.
Patients don't deserve to be treated the way that they do. They didn't ASK to have a stroke and they need to know why you're doing what you're doing. I, personally, don't like whisperers. It's very unprofessional. It's all about trust in the relationship you have with the people that are supposed to care for you. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't.
I remember when my mother was tube fed after her stroke. She pulled out those tubes often. Which meant distressing attempts to re-install them, and discourage her from removing them again. An ugly time for us all, particularly for her.
ReplyDeleteAnd I so agree with you about telling the patient what you are doing. And treating them with respect. After my father's retinas detached he had surgery (successful) to reattach them. In the first few days after surgery his eyes were covered. And medical staff would march up to his bed and just pick up an arm to take blood pressure - without telling him they were there. And meals were simply put down on the tray. The medical care in that hospital was excellent. The patient care was woeful. And it is the patient care we remember.
I think the hospital tried to give good patient care. It's not always easy to do from their point of view. That's why they need to push themselves harder to get it right. The patient is the best judge.
DeleteJust wanted to check in. I've read a few of your recent posts. I'm amazed at your spirit.
ReplyDeleteIt's a journey which has changed my outlook on life. We all could say that though. I'll never get my life back to the way it used to be, but I don't want to sound negative either. EC gives me inspiration to carry on with her wonderful messages of support. Your message helps me too. Many thanks.
DeleteYour journey is thought-provoking and very inspiring. I really enjoy your writing and I'm glad to see you blogging again. I'd be happy with shepherd's pie and mushy peas; two things I like very much!
ReplyDeleteA Canadian who likes English food! I bet you'd like steak and kidney pie too.
DeleteExcellent point about treating the patient with respect. We were lucky with Dad; almost all his caregivers were careful to tell him just what they were doing and why. There were a few who had an attitude but for the most part he got respectful treatment. I wish the same for anyone who is in a position to need it ... as most of us will be at some point, if not for a stroke then for something else.
ReplyDeleteThat's pretty funny about the shepherd's pie and mushy peas, but truthfully I could eat that many days on end, too! You and me and Martha could have a shepherd's pie party :)
That would be nice. Those days in Leamington Spa, eating Shepherd's Pie and mushy peas helped me become who I am. I went down the shop to buy some food. They wouldn't let me have certain sandwiches, but they wouldn't tell me why. They didn't tell me my drinks HAD to be thickened. I drank unthickened wine because I didn't know it was dangerous. It was, but they didn't tell me what could happen to me if I did.
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