SCREAMING IN THE DARK

I heard a brilliant interview on BBC Breakfast a couple of mornings ago. It was about the dangers of experiencing mental deterioration whilst living alone. My ears pricked up! This must apply to me. The interviewees were a psychologist and a delightful young lady who had lived alone for 16 years.

The gist of it was that if you live alone you have no-one to bounce your paranoia off of. Davy used to tell me that I was a mad cow to think the way that I did, so I would quickly adjust my attitude which is good discipline for a crazy like me.

The young lady agreed with the psychologist. She is an author who described herself as being "on the wrong side of bonkers". She also said that her home was both "paradise and a prison". I identified with both of those statements.

So for those of you that get fed up with me "popping into the office to see how things are doing" - get over it. You are, I'm afraid, stuck with me for life. You think I'm mad now, try me if I can't unload my paranoia somewhere. Welcome to my world.

But, to be serious, I'm still obsessing about the NHS. As my dear friend Ladythatlunches revealed there was another man on the same ward. He is in the early stages of Parkinson's and had been in the middle of moving to Lincolnshire when he was admitted to this wretched hospital. The poor man vegetated on the ward for several days, was given the wrong meds and sent home to Edinburgh by taxi where he had to be re-admitted to hospital again. . And he still has to deal with moving from Edinburgh to Lincolnshire. Can you imagine the stress this must be causing him? But do they care? Not a bit of it. Unbelievable!

DogLover suggests going the "complaints procedure" way. I know what would happen. Been there, done that! My husband had bladder cancer. He was a very fastidious man and abhorred the thought of having a stoma bag so he elected to have what they described as "bionic man technology", i.e. he had a bladder constructed in his bowel. We were told that the operation cost over £30,000 and, at that time, there were only 2 to 3 operations carried out every year.

Part of his post-op regime was to learn how to use his newly reconstructed bladder. He was told that a specialist "nurse practitioner" would train him. In the whole month that he recovered in hospital she never came near him once. He stressed out about it because, apparently, it was important that he did special exercises to stretch the new bladder in early post-operative days.

He was frequently told she would be up to see him and would get agitated when she didn’t turn up AGAIN! On the day of his discharge he was told that it was important he didn’t leave without seeing her, she would definitely come up to the ward. After being in hospital for weeks it was a big day for Davy. We had a 70 mile drive but waited for this woman until 6 pm and were finally told she had gone home for the day.

However, she made an outpatient appointment for him the following week and we were told it was imperative that he attend. On the day of the appointment he had dreadful diarrhea. I ‘phoned up the clinic and said he wasn’t able to make the journey and was told they would re-schedule the appointment. They did – for 6 months time! I suspect that this was punishment time for missing an appointment.

I complained about her, again. The result? Davy was transferred to another nurse but by that time it was too late. The new bladder needed to be expanded in the days immediately after the operation. Now it was “set”, had not expanded enough and nothing could be done. £30,000 down the drain and, more importantly, a patient neglected. But it was brushed off by the hospital and our GP. Nobody gave a shit (if you pardon the pun).

Nothing will change until these malcontents can be sacked. Unfortunately, despite the recent scandals of patients dying through lack of care, malnutrition and dehydration they still appear to be “bomb proof”.