Saturday, 1 January 2011

Page 14 The Last Week On The Ward


During the last week on the ward, 'Old Grumpy' a stroppy nurse that none of the others liked, was about to give me my injection of Penicillamine. She held my arm and forcefully yanked my hand round the right way, forgetting that it was the wrong way round (90 degrees to my hand) because it was broken.  There was an almighty crunch when she did this.  
I counted down from ten out loud.  She had re-broken my badly broken wrist.  I don't suppose it was her fault really, as Dr Panchbhavi had repeatedly failed to plaster it.  Hence I have a very unstable wrist that never healed properly.  I didn't even realise this was the hospital's fault, or Negligent even until now. Every time I asked about it and whether anything could be done, I was told nothing could’ve been done, it didn’t matter that it wasn’t plastered or pinned or re-broken. I’ve had no concept of people lying to me since having my Brain Injury, until now that is, and that’s only because there have been so many lies, so much contradiction.  It’s caused me so much confusion, heartache and pain I cannot begin to describe. Let alone the continued negligence and cover up that continues to endanger my health and life.



I never saw Dr Vinod K Panchbhavi more than about 3 times whilst I was on the ward.  I remember one time this funny little man standing by my bed in silence, I have no idea when it was. I remember there was a mobile mopping/cleaning station behind him by another bed.  He just stood there staring out over Poole Bay, so I thought he was a cleaner just standing there taking a break. Apparently, that was him but I couldn't remember people. To this day, I cannot remember names and God help me, if you are not in the 'setting' I know you from, it's pointless I won't remember you.

Anyway during this week, the Occupational Therapist, a nice man, kept popping in to see me to assess me for disability equipment I would need when I went home.
He brought these great big multi angled cutlery items which had very fat soft grip handles and were in sections.  I had to try eating with them whilst in the hospital to see how I got on.
I could only use the spoon and fork, I certainly couldn’t cut anything with a knife.
He also made me a special toothbrush with a fat soft handle that I could grip, and a wonderful device supposed to hold toilet tissue, on a long handled stick thingy, wotsit.  For, You Know!  I am not going any further with that one. A lady has her dignity. This was because I couldn't turn at the waist, due to my broken back. 

In the last few days before I was ejected from this fine establishment Poole General Hospital, now known as Poole NHS Trust Hospital, he took me to the Occupational Therapy department for further assessment.  He wanted to assess me for Tap Turners, great big clunky clamp on things that go over the top of your taps with big lever devices so that you can turn the tap on yourself. Because of my Brain Injury, I couldn't remember what my taps were like at home.  I think they must have known it would be a while before I could even use the implements they were selling me. 

The day before I went home, I was taken to the stairs in a chair, and helped up several steps by Alan and a Physiotherapist.  I was turned around so I was facing, as if descending the stairs.
Alan was behind and the Physio in front of me.  As soon as they let go, my body was completely unstable and I had trouble not folding up like a deck of cards.  I was to try and take a step down, but couldn't. Every time I tried, I'd get to the point where you slightly bend a knee, and my neck, back and knee just gave out, I had no strength in my legs or control over the descent.  I totally lost control at the point where I had to descendIt’s almost impossible to explain, but I had been like this everytime I tried to stand or walk since I first tried a week after the accident. They took me back to the ward.
To this day, I have no power in my legs to control my body going down or up stairs, or to get up or lower myself into a chair. To get up or down from the floor etc., I now know this is due to my Syrinx. So everybody at the hospital and involved in my care and in my case since my accident, they all knew but covered it up.
The nurses were still trying to get Dr Vinod K Panchbhavi to refer me to Neurology, and even more desperately telling my husband not to let me leave the hospital without seeing one.
Alan tried repeatedly to get me seen by a Neurologist, but had no one there to ask about this other than, yes you've guessed it, Old Grumpy. She told him she had been trying but Dr Panchbhavi had to sanction it.  I still find it hard to believe how many have lied through their teeth to me since my accident.  

Poole Hospital and Dr Panchbhavi, even nurse Grumpy were covering up their negligence by not referring me to Neurology. 

Even a girl in the opposite bed to me who’d only bumped cars with her uncle in the driveway was being seen by the Neurologist.

I remember this because when she was taken out of the ward by the Neurologist one day, the other ladies in the surrounding beds told me not to talk to her.

They said she was asking me everything about my problems and then just telling exactly the same to the Neurologist.

I don't know whether he was the hospital's Neurologist or Psychologist, at the time. But there was this Dr who walked past me every day while I was in hospital on his way to see the girl with epilepsy. Everytime he looked at me with concern.  At the time, I thought he was a different man every day, because I couldn’t remember anything.

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