After a long bank holiday weekend of waiting for urine results I began to worry that late results = difficult to treat.
Sure enough despite my appeals for help, from Dipstick not only over the weekend, but during the working week too, he and his secretary could offer no response. Bank holiday Monday evening he suddenly sprang to action and declared he would postpone Thursday’s operation as I had a resistant infection requiring iv antibiotics.  Crash bang wallop. I panicked.
Calming Dip down, Jerome and I suggested that 48 hours of iv before the op should do the trick. He agreed. But forgot to tell his secretary!
So next morning , for some reason she decided to make her own clinical judgement. She informed Dip that I did not need Iv and told the hospital the same. So, having got myself all the way to hospital confusion reigned. Dip rang suggesting I go back home. Crash bang wallop panic.
Cutting a long story short I stayed. The on call doctor got hold of the microbiology report.
 ‘you need iv’... He declared . No shit. Sherlock .

and he rang Dip.  But, got no reply!  

On call, returned from more microbiology…. You need  2 iv antibiotics microbiology are deciding on the cocktail. 
Messaging Jerome who agreed we could not quite understand why it could not be sorted… just needed a decision to be made
We all had  access to the same information… Even me.
The plan was  made
Tazocin
That’s an upgraded version of augmentin.
It’s like domestos. According to Jerome.
Should do trick and mean Thur went as planned.
Hopefully it would be administered before  dark
 No rush! Argh.
I had been in hospital over 7 hours. Not clerked in . No name band ted socks etc.
Night staff were there . ‘we are waiting  consultant to approve abx!’ I nearly screamed but rang Dip close to tears.
He said he had  rung them an hour before. So I gave up. Went to sleep. 

Wednesday… Morning. Got Tazosin late in the night . So was tired pewky  but  on track again.
Jerome sent a tentative message: Dare I ask if you’re all set for tomorrow.…
I really did not want to have to tell him of the chaos….

Having been tied to antibiotic drip all day I was pewky and tired. I had messaged Dip asking if he was coming to the hospital.. 

‘No …tied up’was the blunt reply

I asked what needed to be done

He said need la xative stuff that night, Wednesday . And the next morning Thursday morning.

So I asked nursing staff

Nope it had not been written up. Showed them hisText. 

 Messaged him to ring the hospital . 

Messaged him to check pre op instructions…

Nil by mouth from midnight .

Nurse Irish, awesome,  had gone to get tea and toast.

It was going to be a loooonnngggg night

Laxative stuff got done at midnight… So I guess that was still Wednesday. But it took  effect around 1.oo am technically Thursday. Oh well. 

Tea and toast got forgotten. Then remembered. then got cold. 

Thursday. Operation Day. . 

I had started to worry that I needed bloods doing. Needed name tag. Ted stockings. . I think mrsa swab thing. Having done this sort of thing before.

Of course if Dip did not show up I would have to do the operation myself. Joke!  I would get the junior to help!

Thursday. Busy morning. Cannula got blocked. IE got a big grotesque swollen arm. New cannula more iv antibiotics. More pewkiness .

I suggested MRSA swab and blood test might be a good idea. They needed instruction from on high. So I messaged Dip. Again. Please ask for Mrsa and bloods. Ok. Was the reply.

Having not seen Dipstick all week I was worried he would try to cancel .

The nurses seemed to think I was on the operating list. First up 1:30 pm.

Fat chance.

Mrsa got done. But at 13:00 the chief nurse man ran in. Consultant Dip was already here and needed my bloods! So last minute they did them . Marked urgent. Be results an hour later.  And they thought MY blood pressure was high!

Anaesthetist had been. Seen him before. Nice theatre shoes.. Had bones on them. Weird? He never says much. But smiles a bit. That helps.

I suggested to the agency nurse I maybe better have theatre gown ted socks etc. They found some and I got it all on. Stupid paper pants too. Those always disappear in theatre  !

At 14:00 Dip turned up. He said that it had been his wife’s birthday the day before. So had not been able to see me in hospital. He was late home and in trouble. ‘But I bought her a diamond which cheered her up’.

Seriously?Do I CARE!? God if D gave me a diamond every time he was late let alone on my birthday I’d be setting up a jewellery shop and seriously concerned as to his whereabouts! as if.  Our £19.99 cd and a book pledge suits us! 

Dip  had the grace to commend my efforts at running the prep for operation on my own over the previous 48 hours. I forbore from suggesting I send him my invoice.

Consent done.. he ran through the chances of damage to bladder bowel etc etc but unlikely…. Blah blah blah . So I signed! Trying not to imagine waking to a stoma.

Eventually about 15.oo I got called to go to theatre.

Hours later.. well 5 hours later, I was back on the ward . I kept  checking for stoma. None. Paper pants. Gone.

 BFG and D were chatting away, cracking jokes and being brilliant. They had met in the pub awaiting my return. So I knew they’d at least eaten and hydrated! BFG was delighted to discover my best bagel shop too.  Grinning from ear to ear he had a big bagful to take home  .

Friday after a rough night, morphine brain gave me nightmares of Dip diamonds and stoma.  Dip arrived in the morning to say, it had been a longer operation than he thought, but  I could go home. He explained what he had done  He is really good at making it clear. He does not patronise. He does not use pathetic acronyms. Facts, straight forward and sparing embarrassment. It’s what he is good at  . Jerome as ever, doing battle on my behalf  said: Better a disorganised good surgeon than a well organised bad surgeon  . This is true  . But it’s  nerve wracking. As D pointed out it must take up so much of Jerome’s time  … thank heavens for Jerome. 

So thanks to D we set off for home. Loaded up with morphine, catheter bags and not one  diamond! 

 

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