Dorell ward was an exercise in contrasts with CDU. It was quiet, peaceful and cool. Initially I was the only one in the six person bay my bed was wheeled into. After the flurry of activity over being moved and sign-in had finished, the on-shift ward sister came to see me, equipped with a set of gowns for me to change into. She took her time to talk quietly to me and apologised "I'm sorry. We sent you home too soon." I started crying. She sat with me for some time before encouraging me to lie down and to try to get some sleep.
I did not know it then but I was to spend a total of twelve days in hospital. The time spend in Dorell ward was a cycle of sleeping, eating and walking. It was a real pleasure to have access to proper washing facilities too. The showers on this ward were cavernous and I felt much safer using them than I had the one on the spinal unit - no dragging equipment out of the way and more grab rails.
I tried to read the magazines that previous patients had left but found I kept reading the same few lines over and over and over again. I had no concentration whatsoever. I'd had the same experience wirth previous surgeries but it had always worn off after two to three days. It was not until day eleven after surgery that I was finally able to read an entire article and not until day twelve that I even wanted to watch TV. When I think back, I realise that these two things really underline just how disconnected I'd been mentally. It probably took about the same length of time to regain confidence in being able to do even the simplest tasks without feeling like I could do myself some serious damage.
Toward the end of my time in Dorell I finally had a couple of visitors both of whom I've always found calming and peaceful to be around; the sort of people you just know you can rely upon.
I think my re-engagement with interests such as reading and watching TV led the ward sister to deciding I was now really in a position to go home.
Discharge this second time was a completely different experience. For one, I was not totally physically exhausted.
The ward sister took the trouble to re-fill my blood pressure medication as well as the pain relief that the hospital had prescribed so that I would have one less thing to concern myself over. She had arranged for the first of several appointments with my GP practise nurse for wound care. She had also provided me with pads to prevent me getting blood all over anything I lay or sat upon and a pack of spare dressings. Yes, my right incision was still bleeding! I can't help thinking that had these things had been done the first time, I may have not had to have been re-admitted. Another difference was that my lift home was pre-arranged and trouble free as my friend Jimmy was off-shift.
I had been very lucky that my friends Gary had been able to stay at my home this entire time to look after my cats and that he'd done so willingly and without making me feel like I was imposing.
I did not know it then but I was to spend a total of twelve days in hospital. The time spend in Dorell ward was a cycle of sleeping, eating and walking. It was a real pleasure to have access to proper washing facilities too. The showers on this ward were cavernous and I felt much safer using them than I had the one on the spinal unit - no dragging equipment out of the way and more grab rails.
I tried to read the magazines that previous patients had left but found I kept reading the same few lines over and over and over again. I had no concentration whatsoever. I'd had the same experience wirth previous surgeries but it had always worn off after two to three days. It was not until day eleven after surgery that I was finally able to read an entire article and not until day twelve that I even wanted to watch TV. When I think back, I realise that these two things really underline just how disconnected I'd been mentally. It probably took about the same length of time to regain confidence in being able to do even the simplest tasks without feeling like I could do myself some serious damage.
Toward the end of my time in Dorell I finally had a couple of visitors both of whom I've always found calming and peaceful to be around; the sort of people you just know you can rely upon.
I think my re-engagement with interests such as reading and watching TV led the ward sister to deciding I was now really in a position to go home.
Discharge this second time was a completely different experience. For one, I was not totally physically exhausted.
The ward sister took the trouble to re-fill my blood pressure medication as well as the pain relief that the hospital had prescribed so that I would have one less thing to concern myself over. She had arranged for the first of several appointments with my GP practise nurse for wound care. She had also provided me with pads to prevent me getting blood all over anything I lay or sat upon and a pack of spare dressings. Yes, my right incision was still bleeding! I can't help thinking that had these things had been done the first time, I may have not had to have been re-admitted. Another difference was that my lift home was pre-arranged and trouble free as my friend Jimmy was off-shift.
I had been very lucky that my friends Gary had been able to stay at my home this entire time to look after my cats and that he'd done so willingly and without making me feel like I was imposing.
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