Eleven hours in A&E

Noise everywhere,
So, so very loud.
People talking.
People laughing.
Rumble of a wheelchair.
Beepers beeping.
“Excuse me, coming through.”

Come here, go there.
Bloods to be taken
ECG to be done
Sit there “you will be called”

Hard chair,
Noisy waiting area.
People watch.
Lots to watch,
Lots to hear.
Patients called.
Wait some more
Then my name.

“Follow me,
Take a seat up here. ”
History taken
Examination done
Blood taken

“We need to move you,
We need the bed”
Sit on a chair
And wait….
….and wait!

“Your bloods aren’t back
We’re chasing them up.”

The light,
The noise.
Doctors on phones.
Nurses whizzing by.
Busy, so busy.
More people come.
More people go.
And still I wait.

Been here five hours!
Pain is rising,
Chair gets harder.
Pain gets worse.
All I want is to lie down.
Super exhausted!
Spoons are gone.

“Come with me,
We’ll get you more comfy.”
Led to a bed in SSU.
Quietness at last,
Not silent,
Bearable.
Bed – soft, so soft.
My body can relax.

Bloods lost!
Somewhere in the system.
More bloods took.

Feet up,
Lie back,
Dose off.

Two hours later,
Speak with consultant.
“You will be admitted,
Scan in morning,
Take it from there.”

Panic rising,
Tall ships –
Dream of a lifetime
Could be sailing away
Without me.

“We are moving you to a Ward”
Climbed on trolley,
Moved into A&E.
Noise – super loud.
Voices loud.
Bangs of doors.
Beeps from machines.
A mish mash of sounds.

Middle of a busy corridor,
Trollies packed close.
People bumping into mine.
Bright lights.
Pain rising.
Trolley hard.
CRPS foot painful.
Everywhere else hurts.

Eat a salad –
Nil by mouth from midnight.
Stomach sore.
Get upset.
Cry!
Can’t stand the noise,
Nor the trolley being bumped.
Just no rest,
No peace,
Just a swirl of light and noise

Move to a side area,
Still bright,
Less noise.
Still on trolley,
Get a pillow.

Lie back.
Meditate.
Focus.
Breathe.
Reduce the pain.
Close eyes,
Drift off to sea!

Wait a couple of hours more.
Hear my name,
Hear a ward number.
Into a wheelchair,
I am on my way,
To be settled for the night.
Into a side Ward.
Midnight!

Details given.
Labeled up!
Lie in bed.
Switch off the light.
Not silent but quiet.
And drift of to sleep.

I would like to say thank you to all the staff in A&E at RVH. It was a long wait for me to get through the system, and it wasn’t the most comfy for the most part, however where I was asked to wait was far more comfy than back on the chairs in the main waiting area. It amazes me how these people juggle all that they do, and the people they see, in the very limited environment that they have. The doctor was lovely, he had a great bedside manner. There were two nurses I particularly remember too. The nurse with the auburn/dark ginger hair – she was a smiler and checked on me every so often. I think it was her that was chasing my bloods in the end. Then there was the lovely nurse who found me a quieter location when I ended up back in the middle of a very busy and noisy A&E on a trolley. With that being said though, everyone who had a hand in my care last night were absolutely professional, friendly and reassuring, considering the pressures they are under in the NHS. Thank you to you all, you all do a fabulous job.

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16 thoughts on “Eleven hours in A&E

  1. Oh no 😦
    I hope you are okay, its so not fair that you had to wait on a trolley like that but then our hospitals are at breaking point!
    I hope you get some answers and get sorted and I hope this doesn’t hinder your sailing dream
    Take care x

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I’m so sad you’re having a flare and are in so much pain. I’ve been there! Even in the ER, waiting for hours to be seen. I truly pray you get to feeling better today and that this doesn’t keep you from your tall ship adventure! Keep in touch with us to let us know how you are. Any of us who have dealt with chronic pain, feel your pain. Best wishes, Elaine

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I am so sorry you had to be at hospital. My thoughts are with you. You did sum it up wonderfully though in your poem. However, I am glad that there were good people taking care of you. Sending a gentle hug 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Thank you for sharing your pain and aches with us through this poem. I could totally feel the agony of the waiting, in addition to the pain you were in. I’m sorry you had to go to the hospital, I hope you’re feeling better.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Pingback: Home from hospital | Spoons, Sailing, CRPS and Penguins

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