... of Mice and Men

The journey to the hospital took nearly ninety minutes ... and when I got there, it took me nearly thirty minutes to find somewhere to park. That done it then took another thirty minutes to find my father.

He had been admitted to the A&E Department by ambulance, and was initially assessed and sent to the Minor Injuries Unit ... who then passed him on to the Major Injuries Unit. They decided to send my father for an MRI scan of his head and for some chest X-rays, after which he was allocated a bed in the Medical Assessment Unit. They only problem was that when I arrived I had to follow this trail to find him.

By the time I finally found my father had had the cut on his head sutured and dressed, and was lying on a bed attached to a saline drip. A nurse was trying to take his blood pressure, but the pressure cuff was leaking air, and after several attempts she had to try to find a monitor that was actually working. Eventually she found a functioning blood pressure monitor, and his blood pressure was taken and the results were recorded.

I then sat with my father for over an hour before an assistant brought drinks round for the patients ... but she was unable to supply the tea my father wanted in a beaker (there were none available) and he had to try to drink it through a straw from a normal china mug. This proved impossible for him to manage as he could not sit up.

Nurses regularly checked on my father's condition, but it was not until after midday that he was seen by a doctor. The doctor had no idea that my father had been admitted to the same hospital for a fall only five days previously or that he had been prescribed antibiotics for his urinary infection. There was also no record of the medications that my father was taking, despite a list having been given to the hospital on the previous Friday. After examining my father and looking at the results of the scan and X-rays, the doctor decided that my father needed to be given yet another antibiotic intravenously to combat the chest infection that he seemed to be suffering from. She also told me that she expected that my father would be discharged later in the day, but that this would be subject to approval by the relevant consultant later that afternoon.

As soon as my father had fallen asleep after his examination, I took a break to contact the members of my family and my father's care home to appraise them of his condition. Whilst I was away from his bedside, some food had been left for my father to eat ... but because he was asleep it was left to go cold and uneaten. I tried to get my father to eat something, but he found it too difficult as his false teeth had been left at the care home.

Just after three o'clock in the afternoon the consultant arrived to examine my father. I had to repeat everything that I had told the junior doctor earlier in the day ... even though she was standing there with the consultant. He decided that my father might be suffering from emphysema, but the fact that my father had not smoked since the late 1940s and had never been exposed to dangerous airborne particles seemed to indicate that this was unlikely. The consultant eventually decided that my father was not going to be discharged today, and would most probably be kept in hospital for at least two days.

As my father had not been admitted with any of the things he would need for a protracted stay in hospital, I contacted his care home and agreed to collect everything that he needed from them. I also used the break to eat a somewhat belated lunch and to have a drink (my first since leaving home).

On my return to the hospital I found my father was still asleep. His intravenous drip was checked and changed, and sandwiches were brought round for the patients. I managed to get an egg sandwich for my father as it was the only one on offer that he could eat without his dentures. After over an hour of sitting with my father, trying to keep him calm, I asked the nursing staff when it was likely that my father would be taken up to a ward, but I was informed that a shortage of beds meant that it was unlikely to happen until tomorrow.

By this time I was feeling very tired (and somewhat stressed), and as visiting time was coming to a close and my father was sound asleep, I left the hospital and went home. I contacted my brother, and he offered deal with the hospital and visit my father tomorrow so that I could have some rest and recuperation. After today, I certainly need it!