Being nursed
February 26th 2009 20:35
Hospitals are notorious for being places where you can’t really rest. The daytime is full of people coming and going, which is okay, if you’ve got the energy to cope with them, but when the night time seems to be much the same, and you don’t get the sleep you need, hospital can become something of a nightmare.
The first night I spent there was okay for the most part, even though I was woken a number of times to have my blood pressure taken, as well as my pulse checked and my temperature read. Along with this were the checks on the two IVs I had: one that went into the cannula on my right hand (the anaesthetist had tried the left, got the cannula in and then missed the vein – he said sometimes they move under the pressure of the needle) which I think was a general flushing of the system, and the other that went into an extra tube in my catheter – a larger catheter than the ones I’d been used to wearing: this one had two extra tubes. This IV kept the bladder and such from any blockage. So there was water going in and water coming out on a fairly regular basis.
With all this going on sleep wasn’t easy, but I was fairly relaxed, having felt so good after the operation. Plus I’d slept a bit before the night came: my visitors would suddenly be there and I’d be unaware of them. I woke up to my wife stroking my hand at one point; was awake when my oldest daughter and her tribe arrived, and then woke up suddenly later on when my second daughter turned up and was in the middle of leaving me a message to say she’d been.
The next night, however, I struggled with sleep after being woken suddenly about 2 am. For some reason there was more light in the room I shared with a couple of other guys than there had seemed to be the night before. And the nurse on duty kept coming in (to attend to the latest arrival next door to me – he had a sudden attack of appendicitis the day before and an operation to remove it that afternoon) and shining her torch on the ceiling – which meant that everyone in the room had the effect of the bright light. Like the night before, she came to check on him regularly, but on top of that, his IV kept getting caught up and would emit the most piercing beeps at frequent intervals.
I was very grumpy by the time morning arrived, and not particularly amused when the matriarch nurse arrived, woke me up and said: You obviously take a while to wake in the morning!
This matriarch, however, was a wonderful nurse, very encouraging (when she got her facts about me right!) and handled the whole business of removing the catheter and getting me up and peeing with skill, tact and compassion. And humour.
The afternoon/evening nurse was also great. She’s a woman who goes to our church, as it happens, and she couldn’t have looked after me more carefully on the night of my operation. She was just lovely.
The first night I spent there was okay for the most part, even though I was woken a number of times to have my blood pressure taken, as well as my pulse checked and my temperature read. Along with this were the checks on the two IVs I had: one that went into the cannula on my right hand (the anaesthetist had tried the left, got the cannula in and then missed the vein – he said sometimes they move under the pressure of the needle) which I think was a general flushing of the system, and the other that went into an extra tube in my catheter – a larger catheter than the ones I’d been used to wearing: this one had two extra tubes. This IV kept the bladder and such from any blockage. So there was water going in and water coming out on a fairly regular basis.
With all this going on sleep wasn’t easy, but I was fairly relaxed, having felt so good after the operation. Plus I’d slept a bit before the night came: my visitors would suddenly be there and I’d be unaware of them. I woke up to my wife stroking my hand at one point; was awake when my oldest daughter and her tribe arrived, and then woke up suddenly later on when my second daughter turned up and was in the middle of leaving me a message to say she’d been.
The next night, however, I struggled with sleep after being woken suddenly about 2 am. For some reason there was more light in the room I shared with a couple of other guys than there had seemed to be the night before. And the nurse on duty kept coming in (to attend to the latest arrival next door to me – he had a sudden attack of appendicitis the day before and an operation to remove it that afternoon) and shining her torch on the ceiling – which meant that everyone in the room had the effect of the bright light. Like the night before, she came to check on him regularly, but on top of that, his IV kept getting caught up and would emit the most piercing beeps at frequent intervals.
I was very grumpy by the time morning arrived, and not particularly amused when the matriarch nurse arrived, woke me up and said: You obviously take a while to wake in the morning!
This matriarch, however, was a wonderful nurse, very encouraging (when she got her facts about me right!) and handled the whole business of removing the catheter and getting me up and peeing with skill, tact and compassion. And humour.
The afternoon/evening nurse was also great. She’s a woman who goes to our church, as it happens, and she couldn’t have looked after me more carefully on the night of my operation. She was just lovely.
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