Chapter 5: ‘At least you didn’t shit yourself…’
So if you have read the story so far I would like to say it gets worse…
I had been in hospital since about 2pm in the afternoon – what you have to understand is no matter where you are you have to wait for everything.
I had moved from the uncomfortable chair in the A&E waiting room to a wonderfully uncomfortable bed in the hospital ward.
I hadn’t eaten all day – the ward basically had me hunger strike I wasn’t allowed to eat or drink anything. The kind of hunger strike that would have you on a beach in Ibiza with a beautiful washboard stomach. Except I was not going to Ibiza and I was high on morphine that was not doing anything for the pain.
It was probably about 9 pm and finally they decided that I was allowed to eat something – can you believe it – something to eat – that’s when they presented me with a squashed, thin, grey tuna and cucumber sandwich.
Yummy – what more could I want than a tuna sandwich for dinner! Yeahhy! I mean seriously what planet are they on.
….and then half an hour later after one bite of the delightful tuna sandwich and a bottle of oasis summer fruits I threw up on myself.
For 45 minutes I sat in my own sick because I couldn’t move. The pain in my hip was so bad that I physically couldn’t lift myself off the bed.
The nurse came by and gave me a sick bowl – they look a little bit like grey bowler hats….
I threw up again missing the bowl completely except for a small splodge…
The nurse came back:
Hannah: ‘I am really sorry I threw up again,’
Nurse: ‘Well at least you didn’t shit yourself….’
Hannah: (holding up the bowl and pointing to the splodge of sick) ‘I got this bit in the bowl….’
The poor nurse had to undress me, wipe down my bed and change it…..
Chapter 6: ‘Stay here… you won’t move will you?’
The lights were turned out about midnight for what for most normal people call night-time – but nothing stops at a hospital.
I didn’t sleep at all – I had to lie in a werid position to let my fluids get in through my drip – how exciting.
Of course one thing leads to another and eventually you need the toilet. But its awkward when you need to pee but you can’t move. I had to press the call button to ask to be – yes escorted to the toilet. Gets worse though doesn’t it when you can’t walk to the toilet that is 10 seconds away – so you have to be wheel-chaired to the toilet. Lifted on to the toilet and then they have to pull down your trousers for you. Mid wee I faint….
Yes keel over on the toilet…
My head kind of in my lap lolling like a dog.
The nurse of course is not equipped to be dealing with a bottom naked young lady, mid wee flow, fainting for banter.
The only words I remember are:
‘Hannah, stay here, you won’t move will you?’
I reply in some kind of morphine induced coma… ‘Do you think I am really going to go anywhere?’
So by the end of my first day in hospital I have been prodded and poked, been asked if I was doing drugs, had my blood taken, fainted and couldn’t see, ate a squashed tuna sandwich, threw up on myself, fainted on the toilet…. all this occured in one day… you wait till you hear about Day 2!!!