Hospital in a pandemic is not the title of a blog post I thought I’d write… It’s only a year ago I googled ‘pandemic’ to work out how bad one was… Hospital is also not the place I’d choose for my first night away from home, and first baby-free night, since January 2020. But stuff happens. Hospital and the NHS angels fixed me. I went in with more pain than when I gave birth and came home better and without catching covid.
I’d wondered what it must be like in hospital right now and so many people have asked me since, so I thought I would share.
Ending up needing emergency surgery and a night on an antibiotic drip in these times is a surreal experience. It’s been a while since I’ve even had a cold so this was a bit of a shock. I keep away from the doctors in general, this time I’m glad I went.
Long story short, on a Tuesday night I started to get ill, by Wednesday I was pretty immobile and dragged myself to the doctors and was sent home with horse-pills to fix me and worked from bed. By Thursday things were far worse, as was I and gave up trying to work, so my antibiotics dose was increased over the phone. On Friday morning I was in absolute agony and couldn’t get out of bed. I hadn’t slept for three nights either. I wept my way through a phone appointment by which time the surgery realised I needed proper treatment and sent me into the surgical ward, which was good as there was no way I could sit and wait in A&E.
With hindsight I think that worrying about catching covid kept me from pushing the doctor to send me to hospital sooner – I knew full well I was very unwell but didn’t want to think about going in or clogging up a bed.
Well, thankfully I went in, was cared for carefully and my illness was dealt with professionally. And most importantly I made it home safely too. I can’t remember much of the detail as by the time I was in hospital I had a nasty infection in my blood so I was a bit confused. But I remember two things vividly. First when the consultant took a look and declared she couldn’t deal with it outside theatre… Second when she strode back in purposefully after a blood test towing a drip and a lot of bags of antibiotics because they needed to clear the infection fast…
When you’re ill, the treatment the NHS give you is first class, whether in a covid time or not.
So what’s it like.
- It’s strange. As I walked in there was a lady sat in a cupboard behind a plastic screen checking arrivals aren’t coming in with symptoms.
- It’s eerie. There’s nobody else around. No visitors, no drop in appointments, nobody coughing in the common areas. It’s basically a no go area these days and the covid-areas are well out of reach and view.
- It’s mask central. Medical grade ones are provided on arrival, which makes me wonder if the pretty ones we all wear are doing much?
- It’s safe. There is PPE everywhere – masks, plastic aprons, gloves and constant changing of it between patients. And thick plastic curtains between beds. If you get out of bed you have to wear a mask . The nurses and doctors are friendly and warm but it’s harder to hear them and see smiles – thank goodness for earnest eyes. In fact when my surgeon came to check on me I didn’t recognise her!
- It’s well staffed. I’m not used to seeing people, I don’t go out and when I have in the last year it has been with a couple of mums and toddlers at the most. I expected a skeleton staff but in theatre there were 10 of us. They’re all needed. It makes you realise the risk they all take every day just to car for us.
- It’s caring, the nurses held my hand when I was in pain or if they were doing a procedure. Yes there is PPE but the care remains second to none. They looked after me and held my hand and made me feel safe.
- It’s peaceful. Bed bays that didn’t have doors, now have doors. I spent my 30 hours in a holding ward because my covid swab only came back negative after my operation. Largely because of this I was on my own.
- It’s lonely, visitors aren’t permitted. Take an iPad, charger, headphones and kindle… And snacks. I went in for what I thought was a quick procedure. It’s lucky I took a phone charger but I didn’t take much else. NHS wifi is free which kept me in touch with home and I watched trash TV on my phone. My toddler wasn’t that interested to chat for long – he likes props (cars and toys) and all I had to show was a beeping drip, and a cannular.
- It’s emergency only surgery, in fact in my hospital only operates one theatre currently. I found it really hard to believe I was emergency at the time, I think they were right!
- It’s palpable, the vaccine excitement – there was a buoyant mood amongst the staff. They were starting to have their vaccines and wearing their ‘I’ve had the vaccine badges’ proudly alongside their tiredness.
- It’s overbearing working under all that PPE. Theatre without a covid swab result means a significant amount of PPE. They were still happy to operate on me even though I could have been a risk to them. I was knocked out in theatre rather than a side room, I assume so they use less rooms and hence have to deep clean less. I wore my mask as was put to sleep and when I woke up it was on under my oxygen mask.
- It’s not a rush to get you out. I’d expected it to be a conveyor belt. But it isn’t, you leave when they’re ready and not before. They also know few people can help, so you leave when you can be collected safely. Seeing Mr P and the little one drive up was such a relief, more so than ever before. The little one looked at the building and asked ‘why mummy at the petrol station’ as it looks like one…
- “It’s” hidden. For our safety and the staff, the covid areas are out of reach. We went a complicated route of lifts and corridors to get to theatre and avoid the red zone. I was wheeled past a door where staff were suiting up and there was even more PPE.
And when you get home, absolute relief. That you’re home, safe and well. More so than any hospital trip ever before.
We are fortunate (so far) to know very few people affected by covid, but my health was impacted by its repercussions. I was in a mess by the time I got to hospital because I didn’t think I was ill enough because I didn’t have covid and because the doctor tried to protect me and the NHS.
The NHS will always rise to the challenge of delivering the best care but it needs a break. We need to do as we’re told for just a bit longer.
