Friday, 14 July 2017

A morning at the hospital

It's been a while when I was last in a hospital as a patient. I believe it was in Brighton just after I came back with a shoulder injury I incurred at a Christian youth camp about 8 years ago. I'm not a big fan of hospitals so when I had to go again today, I wasn't very excited.

For a week now, I've had a painful spot on my back. First it looked like a mosquito bite. It itched and the annoying thing was that it was right there where the top edge of the trousers is. The constant rubbing was very painful. I covered it up to relieve the friction and even bought a pair of sweatpants, so I had something to wear that was more comfortable, and expected it too disappear. It didn't. Instead, yesterday I noticed a red/brown liquid flowing out of it and then I decided it might be good idea to see a doctor about this. I made an appointment using my GP practice's appointments tool on their website, I made an appointment for this morning as early as possible. That way, I could see the GP, get the necessary treatment and head to work for 12 pm. When the GP called me in and saw the spot, he was properly impressed and immediately said this was something that needed to be treated at a hospital and may involve surgery. He cleaned the wound and called the hospital in Veldhoven to ask whether I should go to the A&E or the main hospital. In the end, I was sent to the A&E. The GP warned me that I might have to go under general anaesthetics so I shouldn't eat or drink anything from now on. Great! I haven't had my breakfast yet and now I'm told I can't eat anything. With that, I went back home, made some phone calls to arrange transport, packed a bag with a change of clothes in case I needed to stay overnight and made my way to the A&E of Maxima Medical Centre in Veldhoven, a 10 minute bus ride my where I live.

When I arrived at the hospital, I checked in, was given a wristband with my name and date of birth on it - I almost felt like I was at a festival, - and took my place in the waiting room. First I was called my a nurse, who took my temperature, bloodpressure and heartbeat and asked me to explain why I was here. Then an A&E doctor came in and asked me what happened and asked me to show the wound. He looked at it, and poked at it, like doctors usually do. He took a picture of it and went of to show it to a colleague. When he came back, he showed me the photo he took. It was the first time I saw the wound. It didn't look pretty. It looked like an open crater with lots of nasty stuff in it. No surprise that it didn't feel good. Anyways, he explained that it was a pressure ulcer which has gone open and the infection has started to spread. He said they needed to make an echo to determine how deep the infection has spread and whether it could be treated with a course of antibiotics or whether it needed surgical treatment. I was brought to the radiology department where I was welcomed by two, I have to say, very attractive young ladies. The asked me what happened and then the radiologist came in and did his thing, of course after he asked me what happened. Come on! to how many people to I have to explain what happened? After the echo, I was escorted back to the A&E by another nurse, who of course asked me what happened. Back in room 3 of A&E, I was now waiting for the results of the echo. That took quite a while but in the end, a different doctor came in and I had to tell the whole story again. He too, asked me to show the wound and started poking at it. He was poking it considerably harder than the first doctor and he was actually hurting me. Then he said he was going to get some stuff and off he went. A few minutes later, he came back with a bowl, a surgical drape and other scary looking stuff, and I thought "oh no, this is going to hurt". He said he was going to cut away the infected tissue. I asked him whether would get any anaesthetics, but he said that wasn't needed as the wound was already open it was all dead tissue anyways. Okay, whatever. I didn't like it but he says it. He did spray for cooling spray on it, to numb the skin and started to cut away the stuff. The scariest thing about this is not that you don't know what's happening. The pain wasn't too bad, but I was actually not focused on the pain at the moment, but more preparing my self for the pain that might be coming. At one point he told me to take a deep breath. So, I took a deep breath and braced myself for what I expected to be the worst pain I will have in a very long time. That didn't come and then he said he was done. He explained that the wound would be cleaned and an absorbing bandage would be put on it and off he went. Quite a while later, another nurse came in and I had to tell the whole story again. He was the one cleaning the wound, put the bandage on and sent me off home again.

Before I went home, I was given instructions to clean the wound twice a day by rinsing it with a showerhead. That's what I just did and it's actually the most painful of the treatment. The sticking plaster they used is so sticky that it almost felt like I was ripping my skin off to get it off. It flippin hurts! Anyways, tomorrow I might try taking it off after wetting it first so it comes off easier. I rinsed the wound as directed and prepared the bandage. However, as the wound is on my back and I can't see it directly, getting the bandage in the right is a challenge. But God be praised that we live in a time where we have smartphones with cameras with selfie mode so I could see what I was doing. So with my smartphone in one hand and the bandage in the other, I tried to put the bandage on as well as I could. Knowing how much it hurts to take it off, I wanted to make really sure that I would accidentally put the sticking plaster over the wound itself. I hope I didn't and it doesn't look like I did, judging the picture I took from it. So, that was my morning at the hospital. Until next time.....


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