Experiencing UHW
There has been a long gap between this and my last post.
Unfortunately, I have been taken to – what can only jocularly referred to as
‘an accident and emergency department’ - the ever revolving door which passes
for the patient entrance to the University of Wales. Unfortunately, I have been too depressed by
my experiences that I have been unable to write , having reached the sad conclusion
that all my efforts ( to get improved health services ) have been a waste of
time.
Although I am only suffering the last throes of Heart
Failure, whilst still experiencing the pains of Diverticulitis, Dystonia,
Angina, and Reflux Oesophagitis, I am managing to get about, albeit a little
slower than before. To add to my woes, I developed a Deep Vein Thrombosis in my
left leg which was extremely painful.
Luckily the Assessment Unit at UHW, refused to admit me, choosing
instead to send me home with a bag of Heperin injections that I have to stick
in my tummy every day. At least it was
only 87 syringes in total which gave me something to look forward to for a
twelve week period. The short, sharp experience of 13 Bo Tox injections every
8weeks may be painful but at least the Neurology staff are extremely helpful
and kind. I do feel sorry for poor doctor Lewis who has to overcome my futile
attempts to be a ‘brave little soldier’ whilst he puts up with me squirming
about in pain.
Getting back to A&E, I worked out that there are now 5
departments which are supposed to care for the rows of patients waiting hours
for some treatment One poor old chap in the ‘minor injuries department’ had
been sitting with a dislocated wrist for three hours – his pain was as obvious
as the blue/purple colour of his injured wrist.
I felt that the old Triage system would have at least pushed the poor
chap to the very front of the queue, but no one but his tearful daughter cared
a jot for his discomfort.
The next test of your patience are the two part Assessment
unit which feels like death row, with doctors strutting about importantly, as
though trying to decide the order for ejecting the ‘condemned’ out of the
revolving door. Their projected
arrogance is totally unjustified as is the manner in which they approach their
next victim. My experience was that I
was told that I looked fine and, therefore could be treated at home, despite my
DVT demanding attention. I had to ask this female ‘clinician’ “Exactly how ill do you have to be to be admitted to this
hospital ?” bearing in mind all my ailments. It was quite obvious that she had not
bothered to look at my file and, when I asked her precisely where the blood
clot was, she pointed to a spot an inch above my ankle. Having just left the Doppler department, I
knew that the clot was in fact above my knee – approx. 18 inches above her
reckoning. When asked, she haughtily informed me that she was a Registrar,
although she couldn’t tell me the name of her supervising consultant. She then
walked back to her office and, after another hour long wait, I escaped from the
unit and called for a lift home.
One half of the Assessment unit is for ‘Ambulatory’ patients
and the other for old ladies due to be admitted having suffered a near-death
fall in the kitchen. The other two
departments are the children’s A&E,
and the Resus department.
I did get to see the Bed Manager who whined that there were
no beds to be had. I asked her “Well, if
the health board had closed 4700 beds – what the hell did she expect ?
Generally, the morale of the staff was even worse than that
of the long suffering patients. I had to
get out of there, because, if I only hav a few moths to live, I was damned sure
it wouldn’t be having to endure being treated like excrement ! There
are more examples of the appalling treatment my family have experienced, over
the same period. However, anyone may
have a go at me but definitely NOT my family. R. W.
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