I live really close to the Royal Brisbane and Women's Hospital, so it didn't take long to get there. The driver was trying to minimise the bumpiness of the ride, but I was sucking on that "green whistle" and it was making me woozy, so I wasn't really aware of much else. The ambulance guy in the back with me said that after a bit I could try covering the hole to get a stronger blast, but I nearly choked when I tried it, so settle for the regular dose. It tasted and smelled like anaesthetic (I would know, as I've a had a few over the years).
I hung about in the ambulance entry for a bit, admiring how good looking all the ambulance guys were - and sucking on the green whistle - and confirming my details with a receptionist. I was eventually moved into the emergency department itself, and actually taken into a cubicle. When I was in there last year, after my crash, I had to stay in the corridor.
So, I was set up with a drip, put into a fetching lilac-coloured gown, and asked what I was allergic to (for the first of about 500 times in the four days I was in). Tetracycline (a family of antibiotics) and broccoli, for the record (must get that tattooed somewhere prominent). Steve came by a bit later, with Dexter, who still seemed a bit anxious. He certainly got me a lot of attention from the nurses, but was a bit sooky and whingy, when he wasn't asleep under Steve's chair. Steve was waiting to hear if I was staying in or being sent home.
I was prodded a lot more, finally given some morphine (and anti-nausea stuff, as morphine makes me ill), taken for an ultrasound (including internal, which I wasn't expecting, and also required my staggering to the toilet to empty my bladder. Fortunately, it was just next to where I was being probed). More pain, but at least I now I had decent pain relief.
Hours and hours later, during which time I alternated between dozing, chatting with Steve and patting Dexter, a doctor announced that my appendix was still looking suspicious, and that I would be staying in overnight, and could well have surgery to check it out. This at least allowed Steve to take Dexter home. I was then moved out of my cubicle (where I could have the lights off), out into the glare of the corridor. Apparently, having established that I wasn't about to die meant I was no longer eligible for a cubicle. I was frankly a bit disappointed, especially as the light hurt my eyes. Still, I suppose it's better to not be dying.
Lying in the corridor I got waaaaaaaayyy too much information about the other patients there (and they about me), and tried to get some sleep, but the light was hurting my eyes. I ended up pulling the sheet over my head and trying to sleep. I did worry briefly that people might think I was dead, but I was more concerned about getting some rest.
Finally, at 1.30am (I'd arrived in Emergency just over 12 hours earlier), I was moved to a ward. As I was being prepared to move, one of the nurses told me that my Mum had rung, but I was asleep at the time. It was quite the process to let my family know what was happening, as my phone wasn't working in the hospital, so I couldn't get any phone numbers out of it. Steve sent a message to my sister Racher through facebook (good ole facebook), and she had the job of calling Mum and Dad (thanks, Rach!).
After a little trip through the hospital, I ended up in the Gynaecology ward. This was a surprise to me, but I didn't really care, I was just hugely relieved to find I was in a single room, and I could turn the light off!! I even had an ensuite toilet, which meant I could manage to take myself to the loo (my wheelchair was in Steve's car). Having been on a drip for about 12 hours meant that I now needed to wee frequently, and although it was still intensely painful to move, lying there with a full bladder was just as bad.....
I was able to get a bit of sleep though, when the night staff weren't dropping things, or my drip machine wasn't beeping, or my morphine wasn't wearing off.
I hung about in the ambulance entry for a bit, admiring how good looking all the ambulance guys were - and sucking on the green whistle - and confirming my details with a receptionist. I was eventually moved into the emergency department itself, and actually taken into a cubicle. When I was in there last year, after my crash, I had to stay in the corridor.
So, I was set up with a drip, put into a fetching lilac-coloured gown, and asked what I was allergic to (for the first of about 500 times in the four days I was in). Tetracycline (a family of antibiotics) and broccoli, for the record (must get that tattooed somewhere prominent). Steve came by a bit later, with Dexter, who still seemed a bit anxious. He certainly got me a lot of attention from the nurses, but was a bit sooky and whingy, when he wasn't asleep under Steve's chair. Steve was waiting to hear if I was staying in or being sent home.
I was prodded a lot more, finally given some morphine (and anti-nausea stuff, as morphine makes me ill), taken for an ultrasound (including internal, which I wasn't expecting, and also required my staggering to the toilet to empty my bladder. Fortunately, it was just next to where I was being probed). More pain, but at least I now I had decent pain relief.
Hours and hours later, during which time I alternated between dozing, chatting with Steve and patting Dexter, a doctor announced that my appendix was still looking suspicious, and that I would be staying in overnight, and could well have surgery to check it out. This at least allowed Steve to take Dexter home. I was then moved out of my cubicle (where I could have the lights off), out into the glare of the corridor. Apparently, having established that I wasn't about to die meant I was no longer eligible for a cubicle. I was frankly a bit disappointed, especially as the light hurt my eyes. Still, I suppose it's better to not be dying.
Lying in the corridor I got waaaaaaaayyy too much information about the other patients there (and they about me), and tried to get some sleep, but the light was hurting my eyes. I ended up pulling the sheet over my head and trying to sleep. I did worry briefly that people might think I was dead, but I was more concerned about getting some rest.
Finally, at 1.30am (I'd arrived in Emergency just over 12 hours earlier), I was moved to a ward. As I was being prepared to move, one of the nurses told me that my Mum had rung, but I was asleep at the time. It was quite the process to let my family know what was happening, as my phone wasn't working in the hospital, so I couldn't get any phone numbers out of it. Steve sent a message to my sister Racher through facebook (good ole facebook), and she had the job of calling Mum and Dad (thanks, Rach!).
After a little trip through the hospital, I ended up in the Gynaecology ward. This was a surprise to me, but I didn't really care, I was just hugely relieved to find I was in a single room, and I could turn the light off!! I even had an ensuite toilet, which meant I could manage to take myself to the loo (my wheelchair was in Steve's car). Having been on a drip for about 12 hours meant that I now needed to wee frequently, and although it was still intensely painful to move, lying there with a full bladder was just as bad.....
I was able to get a bit of sleep though, when the night staff weren't dropping things, or my drip machine wasn't beeping, or my morphine wasn't wearing off.
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