The day my infection treatment started (over 3 weeks after the accident) was pretty eventful...
So incase you havn't read all the posts very briefly, by this point I had had my urinary catheter removed and when I needed the toilet I was transferred to a commode which luckily fitted over the toilet in my bathroom, then I had to use the buzzer again to be brought from the toilet and put back into bed. Anyway on this day (12th september) as most days, my mom left before afternoon visiting and put me into/onto the toilet before Joss arrived. (I got her to do this because I hated buzzing the nurses everytime I needed the loo as I felt they were busy doing more important things) So when I was ready I tried to see if I could reach the flush myself yet, I still couldn't and noticed that the seat was covered in blood which was dripping off the side. It was coming from my back/burn. I pulled the buzzer cord and waited about 5 minutes. Then a male health care assistant came in and looked shocked like he'd walked in on someone by accident. I explained that people had to bring me back to bed and that I was worried as there was blood pouring out of me. He said he would go and get the nurse (could of taken me off the loo first!), so I sat waiting, and waiting...eventually I heard Joss's voice which meant I had been on the loo waiting for 45 minutes. He came in, I told him about the blood and he went into the corridor ''my girlfriends been left in the toilet nearly an hour''. Don't get me wrong the nurses were horrified and it had been a miss-comunication, the sister thought he had brought me back to bed!
She came straight in got me out and into bed and looked at my back, the bleeding had slowed but she decided now would be a good time to take my staples out. Having staples pulled out feels exactly like having staples pulled out of your skin. I don't know how many there were but they went the entire way round my burn holding the skin (which died) on. So I'd say 30 or more probably. It hurt like fuck, I could feel them being pulled out of the healthy skin they were anchored into.
After this and the meeting with my new consultant mr VN I needed daily infection treatment. This involved being put onto the commode chair in the morning, wheeled into the bathroom under the shower area. The nurse then had to remove my pjamas and underwear, put a towel over my crotch for 'dignity' *what's dignity again I cant remember anymore? then a carier bag over my wrist cast and angle me so other dressings didn't get wet. They soaked the dressing so it hurt less to pull off, showered water over the burn and washed it with special stuff. That REALLY hurt every day, I always said it was fine because i hate making fuss at nurses but JESUS having someone rub a massivley infected full thickness burn is the second most painful thing I have ever experienced (second to being rolled onto a smashed pelvis and snapped leg). Then they washed my hair and body, dried me and dressed me. People probably think, 'oh god how embarrassing' but having my hair washed under a real shower instead of in bed in an inflatable bowl was incredible. I was in too much pain and too vulnerable to care about these amazing people having to see me naked and wash and dress me and wipe my ass. THEN once dried and partailly dressed came the infection clearing wound dressing, I had to have betadine soaked gauze strapped all over the burn. which always soaked bright orange through my pjamas, bedding, everything!
I actually didn't mind the dressing part of the day as I always had a joke with wichever nurse I had as they got orange everywhere and competed to see who could strap it better so less leaked out, one of my favourite nurses frank even joked about seeing me naked on our first meeting. He was quite young and little things like that, that genuinley made me laugh made me feel a little more human again.
DRIVE SAFE, George x
Showing posts with label HCA. Show all posts
Showing posts with label HCA. Show all posts
Thursday, 16 May 2013
Sunday, 7 April 2013
Thursday 23rd August and onwards MIlitary Ward...
I suppose this entry is more of a sum up of the trauma ward before I go into anymore medical stuff.
The military ward was more bearable than intensive care, although that is not to take away from the incredible loving and life saving care I recieved in ITU.
I was on level 4 - in bed 12 - on ward 412, I found that pretty cool (my stepdad found it too confusing...). I had my own room as I was the only girl and very high infection risk, this meant I had my own 'ensuite' although I didn't really get much use out of it! My mom was allowed to stay over for the first two nights on this ward and was given special permission to visit any time in the day for the whole of my stay. This was because I was so young, I was 19 at the time but that is the youngest age you can be in that hospital and as you can imagine I was very vulnerable physically and mentally and needed a lot of support.
The staff on this ward were brilliant, most of them were fairly young and seemed to take a liking to me, this was probably because the ward consisted of crazy old men and soldiers and so I probably seemed very sweet! I was also surprised that a lot of the staff were quite horrified at what had happened to me as I thought they probably saw it a lot. The staff were a mix of military nurses and HCA's and civillian ones. This ward is where I found my favourite nurse, Laura (never thought I'd have one of those!). She was bloody brilliant, I first had her (you have a designated nurse each day) on Thursday 23rd August my first full day on 412. At this point I was still very confused, couldn't move an inch and didn't even want to eat. Part of the routine is a daily wash after breakfast, be that a shower by yourself or a bed bath you have to do it. I had become absolutley petrofied of anything that would mean I had to be rolled (I didn't even want to eat because if I needed the toilet I would have to be rolled onto a bed pan as I only had a cathater for urine, too much information I know!) But Laura came in with Lyndsey (lovely military HCA) and calmly explained they had to do it, it was agony but they chatted to me whilst washing me to try and keep me calm. Still amazes me how they change a bed with you on it! I had lots of lovely nurses for the 4 weeks I was on 412, I was rarely on my own but at night time they would pop in and stop to talk when they were doing my drugs or dressings or canulars. My time on this ward was when I was at my weakest and most vulnerable but past the very real possibility of dying.
I know it's their job but they did everything for me, bed baths, dressing changes, cathater control, canulars, IV's, drugs, bed pan, washing my hair in bed even when I couldnt lift my head, holding my hand, clearing up my awful skin graft infection, eventually pushing me to the toilet and washing me in the shower, dressing me when I could finally wear knickers!, feeding me, making me laugh Laura even shaved my legs before I decided it really didnt matter if I had hairy legs I was barely alive!
DRIVE SAFE, George xxx
The military ward was more bearable than intensive care, although that is not to take away from the incredible loving and life saving care I recieved in ITU.
I was on level 4 - in bed 12 - on ward 412, I found that pretty cool (my stepdad found it too confusing...). I had my own room as I was the only girl and very high infection risk, this meant I had my own 'ensuite' although I didn't really get much use out of it! My mom was allowed to stay over for the first two nights on this ward and was given special permission to visit any time in the day for the whole of my stay. This was because I was so young, I was 19 at the time but that is the youngest age you can be in that hospital and as you can imagine I was very vulnerable physically and mentally and needed a lot of support.
The staff on this ward were brilliant, most of them were fairly young and seemed to take a liking to me, this was probably because the ward consisted of crazy old men and soldiers and so I probably seemed very sweet! I was also surprised that a lot of the staff were quite horrified at what had happened to me as I thought they probably saw it a lot. The staff were a mix of military nurses and HCA's and civillian ones. This ward is where I found my favourite nurse, Laura (never thought I'd have one of those!). She was bloody brilliant, I first had her (you have a designated nurse each day) on Thursday 23rd August my first full day on 412. At this point I was still very confused, couldn't move an inch and didn't even want to eat. Part of the routine is a daily wash after breakfast, be that a shower by yourself or a bed bath you have to do it. I had become absolutley petrofied of anything that would mean I had to be rolled (I didn't even want to eat because if I needed the toilet I would have to be rolled onto a bed pan as I only had a cathater for urine, too much information I know!) But Laura came in with Lyndsey (lovely military HCA) and calmly explained they had to do it, it was agony but they chatted to me whilst washing me to try and keep me calm. Still amazes me how they change a bed with you on it! I had lots of lovely nurses for the 4 weeks I was on 412, I was rarely on my own but at night time they would pop in and stop to talk when they were doing my drugs or dressings or canulars. My time on this ward was when I was at my weakest and most vulnerable but past the very real possibility of dying.
I know it's their job but they did everything for me, bed baths, dressing changes, cathater control, canulars, IV's, drugs, bed pan, washing my hair in bed even when I couldnt lift my head, holding my hand, clearing up my awful skin graft infection, eventually pushing me to the toilet and washing me in the shower, dressing me when I could finally wear knickers!, feeding me, making me laugh Laura even shaved my legs before I decided it really didnt matter if I had hairy legs I was barely alive!
DRIVE SAFE, George xxx
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