WALDENSTRöM’S AND ME. Part 2
Before the referral back to haematology had worked through the system, I had even more significant encounters with the infirmary. I had tested positive for Covid-19. There were concerns on the effect that it had with my breathing and I was eventually taken to A and E. This time it looked different. The hospital had been divided into yellow and blue zones in order to keep everyone safe. I spent a whole night on a trolley in a cubicle in the Covid-19 section, waiting for a bed to become available on a ward. They eventually took me up to the ward after breakfast. Then it dawned on me. The bed was available to me now because either a patient had been discharged, or had died. It made me feel solemn.
The porter pushed the trolley through corridors that had been separated off to keep people safe. We could only use designated lifts to get to the ward. The whole atmosphere in the hospital had changed and I was strangely aware that I was putting the staff at risk. I was also more grateful of the care I received then the previous times I had been hospitalised. On those two occasions; three if I count the time at seventeen when my appendix was removed, I was the only one at risk. This time the hospital staff were also at risk. Normally, as a hospital Chaplain myself, but working for a different Trust, I would have requested a Chaplain to visit. I personally felt that that was out of the question. I had to use my theological training to spiritually support myself. I had no prayer book or bible with me. However, I did have my mobile phone and charger. The Daily Prayer app and the One Bible app was a comfort. Even though my discipline was interrupted by the virus I am sure they did help.
At the time, each day could have been the hottest day of the year. A hot day was followed by an even hotter one. What it did on the ward was to make it extremely uncomfortable. Then ice cream was given to the patients which provided welcome but momentarily relief from the heat.
My hopes were raised of discharge that day. A lot of patients had recovered enough to be sent home but as time went on it didn’t look as if I was to be one of the fortunate ones. I thought that I had heard my name mentioned earlier that day as a possible discharge but as the evening meal came to be served, it looked as if I had misheard. The thought of spending another night away from my wife made me feel a harsh disappointment.
But then a nurse came to tell me to gather my things together as I was going home. She apologised for the confusion about my discharge but I was not in a bed that was in the space where the team that was looking after me looked after. As a result my medications that I needed to be discharged with had not been sent by the pharmacy but now they were. Who cared about the mix up. I asked how I was getting home. Some people who had been discharged earlier that day had been offered hospital transport. I was told that it would be by taxi. The hospital had a contract with a local company to take patients home in situations like this. Thankfully I was able to eat my meal and phone ahead to tell my wife that I was being discharged after all.
I was given a mask to help negotiate the outside world. This was to lead to distress no one could have foreseen. I got into the private hire car and fastened my seat belt. Seeing my mask, the driver asked if I had Covid. When he heard that was the reason I went into the hospital, he jumped out the car, telling me to get out. He ranted, how dare I sit in his car which is used to transport school children and jumped up and down on the spot, waving his arms up and down. This would have been funny if it hadn’t been so frightening. I wanted to point out to him that he worked for a company who had a contract to transport patients like me but there was no way I wanted him to take me home.
I went back into the hospital lobby, not knowing what to do. I was upset and a little confused which meant that I didn’t know how to get back to the ward safely. The only option open to me as I see was to walk home. So I did. It was still hot on the shady side of the streets and since most of the roads I walked along were on an East — West alignment, there was little shade anyway. There was irony in my walk home. I walked past the office of the private hire firm that had the contract with the hospital. I stood and faced the open door and turned my cheeks before continuing on my walk in heat that refused to abate.
The days after this were days that I felt good. Then on the Saturday evening just six days after that long walk in the sun I started to feel ill. I suspected that it was something to do with the heart but it didn’t seem to be as it had been in the past. I telephoned NHS 111 and they suggested that I go to the out of hours doctors provision, which on that evening was located at the hospital. I had to present myself to A and E as they shared the same reception. I did.
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The person I presented myself to; took my details, read my notes on the system and then proceeded to take my observations. Instead of sending me to the out of hours doctors surgery she took me through the part of A and E where the paramedics take patients. My heart had started to beat a lot faster than it had for some time. I was invited to lay down on a trolley and I was admitted.
It was a busy Saturday night and instead of watching the foreign language detective series on BBC4, I was observing a side of life most people don’t see. It was only a week ago since I was in this hospital but this time I had a sense that something was off. Something was not quite right. As usual, my blood had been tested. What was not usual was that they had discovered that something was wrong. It was a major issue. A concerned nurse told me that I needed a blood transfusion and that I needed it now. Yes, of course I consent. Now there was something I needed to do. Of course I telephoned my wife to let her know what was about to happen and I needed to get the Church to pray for me. In times like these, modern technology comes in useful.
The Doctor who was in charge of the area where I was came and introduced himself and he explained what the transfusion would entail. He was a tall, thin and jovial man of West Indian heritage with a positive spirit. He asked a few questions about my religion as he had to know if I had any religious convictions that would prevent this procedure. In this conversation I told him that I was an ordained Clergy person, a Deacon in the Church of England. On hearing this the doctor smiled and said that he was an Anglican too.
But before they could do the blood transfusion there was another test to do which they somehow had forgot to do when they admitted me. And that was to test me for Covid-19. I was confident that I would test negative. Since being discharged last week I had taken two lateral flow tests and each had shown that I was negative. The swab result came back quickly. Surprisingly, I was positive.
A doctor explained to me that these swabs were more sensitive that the lateral flow tests people were given. Since I was in hospital with Covid-19 last week the swab probably detected the last signs that I had the virus. I asked about how I would get home and he said that I was safe to travel in a taxi due to the negative tests I had taken. However, that didn’t mean that I could remain in the non Covid-19 area of the A and E. I had to be transferred to the area where I was the week before. This meant that another doctor would be doing the blood transfusion.
I didn’t feel as comfortable about the procedure with this doctor than the previous own. I don’t know why but it could have been because this section seemed to be working under more pressure. Although he was prepared to do the procedure it felt that it would be better if my regular Consultant Haematologist did the procedure. It may have been because where I had been placed was that it was in view of the Resus area, where two negative experiences I had happened.
I left in the early hours of Sunday morning having been referred back to Haematology and Cardiology.
I don’t understand
What is happening to me?
Could it be the end?
