And into Hospital I Go

Hospital Admission – In I go.

And into hospital, I go. Arriving for my hospital admission, getting dropped off at the door by my wife. It’s Monday, and we haven’t had cuddles for a week. I can’t kiss her goodbye. I was told to social distance myself just to prevent any risk of catching anything. Having to do the same with my son, is heartbreaking. Thank you, Corona Virus! 

The waiting starts

I’m writing this sat at my bed the day before I go under the knife for my baclofen pump change. I have a room to myself, fortunately. The six-bed bays are all good and well for interaction with other patients, but I don’t think I have ever had a good nights sleep when having a bed allocated in one.

And Into hospital I go

The widow behind me looks over the garden square in the middle of the spinal centre. I am on the second floor. It’s a big hospital and seems full. I can see the widows of two wards opposite and also the glass of the stairwell at one end. The garden looks tidy; Horatios Garden volunteers tend it.

My journey to the ward involved a roll through the ground floor passing the main reception and a trip in the dated lifts. Only up one floor. It’s Strange, they smell exactly the same as I remember when I was originally lucky enough to be a guest here, and that was in 1993!

I arrive at the reception desk and get smiled at by a young Dr who promptly passes me onto the Ward Clarke. I say hello, introduce myself before getting shown to my room and have to wait.

After talking to the Ward Clarke about hospital policies, it transpires, as a rule, my son cannot visit me on the ward. I am heartbroken. I know it’s to keep everyone safe and prevent any spread of anything but it pains my heart!

And into hospital I go
In the lift at the NSIC

Keeping busy and entertained

In the wake of writing this, I’ll be entertained by watching something on my mobile device or alternatively reading an exciting book before I settle down with thoughts of the operation the following day not far from my mind. Once I get my head into my reading companion, the Simon Scarrow book I have with me tells of the epic adventures of Telemachus on the pirate ship sailing the Adriatic. This will keep me engaged and divert the thoughts of the procedure from entering my mind.

I’ll need to be on bed rest for several days post-procedure. Coming round from the anaesthetic, I assume I’ll be a bit groggy for the first couple of days at least. A box set will be a good idea. One I can drift away from and return when I wake again. 

Food choice

Not sure about the food though. Possibly due to its mass production and maybe even cooked off-site, I’m not holding out on it being flavoursome or even all that healthy! With thoughts taking me back to a previous admission to the spinal centre. I think it wasn’t till I got discharged and arrived in the kitchen at home. After which, spying the Satsumas on the side and devouring one, that I actually tasted anything with flavour. It couldn’t of been that bad could it?

In 28 years

This stay under the wing of the NHS will be my seventh stay in this cosy environment.

I’m not sure if there are any staff working on St Patricks that remember me from my previous stay here, or especially the time I worked for one of the spinal injuries charites and ventured aroud the hospital offering support to patients and updating staff on the work offered by the charity. 

I am/we are lucky!

Feeling lucky I can access the NHS. Especially as it is under constant pressure. If you can’t avoid listening to the media, there are not enough beds, staff are stretched and furthermore there is Corona Virus. Because of these, the NHS is always pushed to its max. It’s the nature of the game. There are too many people wanting to access it. And there are people who abuse it. 

I don’t think anyone will completely avoid the services of this national hero. Despite how fit you keep or how healthily you eat and that you don’t drink or drive too fast. Sometime, or rather at any time, something could happen, thus resulting in you needing the services of the NHS in some capacity. 


A big thanks of appreciation

Thank you Aneurin Bevan for your idea of the National Heath Service. A service that not only saves millions of lifes, but also helps the sick and injured recover comfortably and for giving those who care, and opportunity to care.

But they don’t do wheelchair training. 

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