The first thing of course, even before coffee is to pull the morning paper through our letter box in the front door, turn on an extra heater in the room I’m in and do a scan of the paper before actually settling down to read it all.  Sometimes there are two papers.

Well, scanning the paper today I came across this story and was just floored by what I’d read.  So I immediately booted because I want this story shared before I get bogged down with other things.

This was just one hospital out of hundreds and hundreds that I am sure would not have acted this way.  But then I have to wonder.  Is that really true?
Given the state of thinking in today’s world, who is to say with certainty that the same might not apply somewhere else.  The USA as well?

This really is so totally outrageous it needs a category all to itself.
Where’s the common decency? Where’s the humanity? The common sense?

If there were no other way to transport this poor old man who once served his country well, and even had he never been in the army, never mind.
Is this any way to treat an old man?

People who know me well enough also know that of all the folks I have ever disliked in my life, I have never disliked anyone so much as I do the MIL, and with many a valid reason.  However, as much as I loath her, even I would not condone treating the miserable old bag in this manner.  Even I know better and flinch at the idea of this sort of callas behavior on the part of people who are supposed to be “care givers.”

If there were NO OTHER way of sending this dying old man home, could they not have spared just one person to accompany him so he wasn’t alone?
Couldn’t someone have reached a family member?

Oh good.  They said “sorry.” In a pigs ass!  They’re only sorry because of bad publicity and how long will that last?

Saying “sorry” seems to be the password for everything in this screwed up world.  Thugs arrested for god awful crimes only need to say sorry to get a lighter jail term if they get that at all.  “Sorry.” Who really believes that? 

This story bothers me a lot.  Maybe I’m not as cold blooded as I thought I was. Or maybe I see myself in the same situation some day in the future.

For the first time in my life I’m seriously beginning to wonder if just maybe we really need MORE, not less religion in our lives.  Perhaps if Christian charity
or compassion were at work here in this Christian country, someone would have known this was not right on any level.  And you need not be religious to see how terribly wrong this was.  But perhaps if the staff at this hospital had a bit of old time religious feeling and charity, they would have acted otherwise.

I feel very bad for the victim here, and I see him as exactly that.  A victim not just of the hospital, but of a Godless culture as well.  He deserved better at the end of his life.  Much better.

Dying World War Two hero ‘stripped of human dignity’ by hospital care, family say
A decorated Second World War hero aged 101 was sent home to die by a hospital in a taxi wearing a nappy and a set of ill fitting pyjamas, clutching a bag of soiled clothing.

By John Bingham
Last Updated: 8:17PM GMT 30 Dec 2008

Brigadier John Platt recieved the DSO bravery. The family of Brigadier John Platt, who won the Distinguished Service Order for his leadership in one of the fiercest battles of the Italian campaign, told how he was discharged from Salisbury District Hospital, unable to feed himself.

They said he was in a confused state and incontinent, after a stay which left him “degraded and humiliated”.

During his five-day spell in a mixed-sex observation ward, his hearing aid was crushed, his false teeth went missing and soiled pyjamas were piled up unwashed in a locker by his bedside, they said.

Knowing he was dying after losing the ability to swallow food, he asked to go home. But no ambulance was available so he was sent in a taxi on an hour-long journey to the care home where he died a few days later.

When his family later complained about the hygiene issues around the soiled pyjamas, the hospital wrote back to say that it was unfortunate that he had been “unable to avail himself” of its laundry service.

It has since apologised to Brig Platt’s family for the “unacceptable” nature of his discharge in a taxi in late 2006 and vowed to learn lessons from his ordeal.

His case came to light as Nial Dickson, chief executive of the health thinktank the King’s Fund, warned of a deterioration of compassion from under-pressure staff in NHS hospitals.

Brig Platt’s daughter-in-law, Amanda, said that his case highlighted a “shocking and disgraceful” lack of care.

“All that he had at the end of his 101 years was his dignity and they took that away from him,” she said.

In May 1944 Brig Platt, then a Lieutenant Colonel, personally led the men of the 2nd Battalion, the Somerset Light Infantry, in the heroic assault across the River Gargliano.

He was wounded twice during the operation and later received the DSO for his bravery. In later life he wrote books about military history and hunting.

“It wasn’t the fact that he was my father-in-law and a dear old soldier, it was the complete lack of respect for a dying person, for a human being, that I thought was so terrible,” said Mrs Platt.

“They packed him off without so much as a by your leave in the back of a non-medical car taxi, sitting bolt upright with somebody else’s pyjamas on and a nappy so tight that he could hardly breathe and two cotton blankets on his shoulders.

“They had lost his false teeth which were brand new, I never saw my father-in-law without his false teeth ... and somebody had stood on his deaf aid, which was crushed.”

But she said that what angered the family most was the soiled clothing.

“I just can’t believe that any hospital would keep excrement-covered clothing in a locker for five days ... I got the impression that this lack of attention must be endemic because it was so lightly treated.”

In a statement, the hospital said: “Clearly some aspects of Brigadier Platt’s discharge from hospital in 2006 were unacceptable and the trust apologises for any distress that this caused the patient and his family.

“In apologising, the trust also acknowledges the concerns raised about some of Brigadier Platt’s personal effects.”

TELEGRAPH

“I just can’t believe that any hospital would keep excrement-covered clothing in a locker”

Well I can because something close to that happened here. 
Back in 2005 the wife’s mother fell, broke hip and had other serious ailments and was carted off to the hospital.

When my wife paid a visit she was given what appeared to be a transparent, pink plastic bag containing her mothers soiled nighties. These were meant to be taken home and washed and then brought back to the hospital. 

Well, that pink plastic looking bag was in FACT, made of soap and was dissoluble in water.  But we weren’t aware of that at the time. That bag contained more then a nightie that needed washing. You can guess what.

After that experience we asked that the hospital laundry do her soiled garments.

Here’s the kicker.  Sure, the hospital can do the laundry. But you have to know ahead of time that, you should ask if they will.  See, you might take for granted that they will.  They won’t volunteer the info.  And nobody told us that the bag would dissolve in water.  We may have been lucky in that.

Thankfully, we never put that soap-bag in our washer. It was done outside in a bucket.  Foolishly perhaps, we hadn’t expected the extra ingredients that bag contained.  But we kind of suspected.  It wasn’t until we opened the bag that we found it all.  It did however confirm my belief that the old lady was full of it.

Finally, wife has just informed me that the hospital in question here has had a number of problems in the past.  This hosp. trust is one of the worst in the country, so she tells me.

While not exactly in the very same league as this article, I did once witness in an American hospital in Riverside, Ca., the same sort of gross indifference and callousness towards an elderly patient in my room when I was recovering from back surgery. And that was over 20 years ago.

I am leaving this posted here for awhile.  I want people to see this. Lots of people. PLEASE pass this one on.

Posted by peiper     on 12/31/2008 at 04:07 AM   
Filed Under: • Editorials • Health-Medicine • Heroes • Medical • Outrageous • UK •  
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   Monday - December 29, 2008

Pictured as he waited to die: Patient subjected to 6-hour delay in A&E - dies in agony.oops, sorry?

The longer I’m here the scarder I get.
This is almost an unbelievable story. 

I was getting ready to close for the night and did a quick scan to see if there was anything that shouldn’t be missed.
Oh boy was there. THIS. And although it won’t bring back the poor guy, I hope the family sues BIG TIME and some ppl lose their jobs and never be allowed to work in the health field again.  Jeesh!

Pictured as he waited to die: Father subjected to 6-hour delay in A&E - despite GP’s note that said he had to be seen immediately

By Colin Fernandez
Last updated at 5:19 PM on 29th December 2008

A father-of-two died after a six-hour wait to be seen at an A&E department - despite having a note from his GP saying he must be treated immediately.

Stewart Fleming, 37, turned up at his local casualty unit with wife Sarah clutching a note from his doctor saying he must be seen ‘straight away’.

But instead of being sent to the head of the queue, Mr Fleming had to sit and wait in agony as his organs collapsed as a virus ravaged his body.

It was three hours before he was even assessed to see if he was a ‘priority case’, and even then it took another three hours for him to be admitted - six hours since he arrived at the hospital.

Doctors then realised the gravity of the situation and desperately started treating the infection, which was attacking his heart, kidneys and liver.

His nightmare began on December 12 when he arrived at the Medway Maritime Hospital in Gillingham, Kent.

Railway signalman Mr Fleming had been ill with flu-like symptoms for around a week and a half before he went to accident and emergency.

After a course of antibiotics had little effect, his GP recommended going to the hospital.

After belatedly receiving treatment, he remained in hospital for another week before having a leg amputated on December 19 - the day of his son Matthew’s 12th birthday.

He was then put in a drug-induced coma in a bid to save his life.

But, on December 27, after spending another week fighting the illness following his transferall to the Harefield Hospital, near Uxbridge, West London, Mr Fleming died.

The hospital in Kent has since apologised as it was busier than normal ‘due to a high number of admissions’.

But Mr Fleming’s wife of 15 years Sarah, 42, said the family, of Rainham, Kent, was devastated by her husband’s death and has demanded an explanation from hospital chiefs.

MORE HERE AND PIX AS HOSP. FUCKS UP

Posted by peiper     on 12/29/2008 at 12:26 PM   
Filed Under: • Health-Medicine • Medical • Outrageous • UK •  
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   Wednesday - December 10, 2008

Bionic Arm

Dean Kamen, who I spoke about here, has come up with a way to help our soldiers who have lost limbs.

Segway Inventor Builds Bionic Arm for Wounded GIs

The man behind the Segway scooter has a new invention: bionic arms for wounded soldiers.

Called the “Luke Arm” after the prosthetic hand sported by Luke Skywalker in the “Star Wars” movies, Dean Kamen’s device is lightweight, self-contained and fully capable of picking up grapes, baby bottles, even electric drills.

Kamen says the Department of Defense approached him and his company, DEKA, in 2005 about the project, not the other way around.

“This guy visits and basically says, ‘Look, we’ve had 1,600 kids go over [to Iraq] and lose an arm. Two dozen have lost two,’” Kamen tells Newsweek in a story for next week’s issue. “‘At the end of the Civil War, we gave them a hook on a stick. Now we give them a hook at the end of a plastic tube.’”

The Luke Arm has four fingers and an opposable thumb, and was designed to be controlled by muscular movement in the wearer’s remaining limbs.

But thanks to neurological advances in “targeted renervation” by Dr. Todd Kuiken of the Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago, the Luke Arm can now connect directly to motor nerves, meaning it can be controlled purely by thought alone.

And the nerve connections are two-way: The wearer gets “force feedback” about his own grip and movements, allowing him to pick up an empty water bottle without crushing it.

Posted by Mr. Christian     on 12/10/2008 at 07:37 AM   
Filed Under: • Amazing Science and Discoveries • Medical • Science-Technology •  
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   Tuesday - November 25, 2008

MORE BIZARRENESS FROM PERSONAL LIFE. WHAT FUN.  LIVING WITH MUMMY.

This happened some few weeks ago, but only now sharing it.  You might find it to be an interesting read.  I hope so.
For those who do not already know, but wonder perhaps what a homesick yank is doing here, the answer is easy.
I was dropped on my head as a baby.  Never recovered.

Excuses, excuses.  Wife (English) and I sold off everything including a home we’ll never replace in Palm Desert,CA., and moved to England in April of 2004.  April 28th to be very exact.  When we left beautiful Palm Desert from the parking lot of The Elephant Bar, a truly GREAT eatery, and I do mean truly great, the outside temp. was over 112. 

We arrived in London at Heathrow in the rain and it was 54. It was probably the coldest 54 I’d encountered in my memory. A damp chill I couldn’t shake was what I remember most about that dismal day.

The reason for the desertion of my mother country was because my wife considered (correctly) that her mother was too ill and too frail to live alone any longer.  She was worried that alone, she wouldn’t last out the winter.  And no, there wasn’t any way to take the old dog back to the states.

So then, not being able to move England’s last living witch to America, we moved here to care FULL TIME for Her Wrinkled Wretchedness.
The burden/curse on my wife has been beyond what I am able to describe except to say frankly that I am watching my wife of almost 39 years, commit suicide by mother.  It is fair to assume I resent that.  I might not had the poo factory been a different person and not as manipulative when she was in better health.  Or more co-operative when she could be.  I suppose I could have overlooked some small things about her. The protruding teeth, the piggy blue eyes, the ugliness etc.  But in the end I just couldn’t overlook how stupid she is.

And now here we are, and here’s an installment from our latest life chapter. 
Living with mummy.

TROLLS AS CARE GIVERS

We were REPORTED TO SOCIAL SERVICES.

Yeah really. Wife and I must be real evil doers.  What a crock.

We aren’t taking the old dear’s ill health very seriously. Or not seriously enough. 

Over the last week the poop parade (that’s the MIL) got another urinary infection for which the doctor was immediately called and medication was provided.

Then .... she started wheezing and I never heard a wheezy chest before this.  Then, she started hallucinating BIG time. What a surprise that was.

She’d look at you and her speech was restored to almost perfect BUT ... it wasn’t you she was seeing or talking to. Creepy. Went on ALL night too. But she seemed happy enough with whoever’s company she was in.

She’s answering questions and asking them and laughing and said she’d just returned from London where she spent the day and would like some tea please. WHHHHAAAAA HA!  I never, ever saw anything like this before.  SHE’S LOOKIN STRAIGHT AT YA BUT SEEING SOMEONE ELSE!  And having a conversation with them.

So ... 2wice a day there are these ppl who work for an agency that supply people called “care givers” who are paid by Social Services.  They are called Care Givers and most times they do.  The wife’s mother paid for these services until her savings went below the required threshold.  It was at that point that the govt. got involved and now pays for the diaper and bath brigade.  However, these are NOT nurses in any way.

Most of the women and young ladies are very experienced doing this sort of thing. Changing diapers and sheets and bedding etc.  Some have worked in SS themselves or in hospitals.  Some are VERY OFFICIOUS TROLLS who somehow think they are also doctors. Two of these unfortunately are a mother and her homely skinny daughter.  The mom is normally in the office but has to fill in, and she is in charge of making the weekly schedules. Which she always copies from week to week. 

Wish there were a way to really paint the picture better.  The mother NEVER listens and furthermore doesn’t talk to you but barks AT YOU in rapid fire with a hard screechy like voice. The kind of voice and accent you’ll generally hear after the pubs close. Not at all that nice English accent you hear in many movies. 

So anyway, the daughter (Troll #1) is here one morning and hears the old woman’s breathing which as I said was wheezy. She had a chest infection.
These care givers are more or less rotated which is to say, although we may get the same ones, it might not always be at the same time every day. Troll #1 for example only works about 3 days. She’s a hairdresser and works in a beauty shop three days a week. But mommy got her trained and on the payroll.  Now Troll #1 thinks she’s a doctor. 

Well, two doctors in three days came to the house to look at PeggyPoop and she was given medications.  One doctor said that with regard to the delusions, that wasn’t a big worry at her age. 93. He sees it a lot. 

Enter Troll #1 next morning who arrived with an attitude. As soon as she “flounced” in here, she started to rant about how cold the patient’s room is, and she’s white as a sheet (she wasn’t) and was gonna die of either hypothermia or pneumonia. (she’ll live forever damn it) We needed to heat the room better.  Well duh ... the silly Moonbat came in wearing a tee shirt and a jacket. It was very cold that morning.

The patient is under two wool blankets and another lighter blanket topped by a down cover.  A flannel nightie plus a bed jacket and bed socks. But Troll #1 is cold. uh huh. She claimed the room was so cold her nose and hands felt frozen.  Too bad it wasn’t her tongue. 

So, this overly officious 20 something is going on and on and I tried to tell her, in fact I did tell her, that there were 2 doctors here already and she was on meds. One of which was only started the day before.  How quickly did she expect them to work?

Next day we got a call from SS (Social Services), would we mind awfully if they came out to our house to see how the old lady was doing as they had a report from the care givers that not all was being done that could be done.  huh?  £”!!$%*^&^#

My wife killing herself doesn’t count of course.  Well, SS doesn’t bother us and of course they are welcome to check. But the idea that, according to that one little creep, that we weren’t taking her condition seriously enough had us seeing red.  What more can we do that the doctors aren’t doing?  So I gave the SS person on the phone a rundown of the conversation including the fact that docs HAD been here and she was on meds yadda,yadda.  I then said I knew exactly who called them and if she were a guy I’d seriously paste her to a wall.  (And oh by the way, in point of fact, the old poop factory was actually seen by not two, but three doctors over the course of 7 days for three different ailments.)

So ... the lady I spoke to said she would contact the agency and tell them not to send Troll #1 to this house anymore for which I thanked her.
But ... of course the mother is highly pissed off at us now. And she sets the schedules.

The next afternoon which was Thursday, the time for the next diaper change is 6pm and two carers come over and one is Troll #2, Mommy Dearest. 

Have you ever seen anyone who walked with an attitude?  That’s the mom, Troll #2. In she came wearing a face like thunder and a blinding lack of intelligence, doesn’t say a word but marches straight through to the room where the wife’s mother is.  No usual hallo or hi-ya. A face set in stone and not pretty to begin with. She’s angry. You can see it.
Understand it was her daughter who sicked SS on us. We defended ourselves successfully , and she’s upset with us.  Go figure.

Now then ... on the morning calls when they also body wash her and have more to do, they are scheduled for 45 minutes.  But the afternoon calls are scheduled for only 30 minutes.  Not all that time is needed and the care givers are in and out of here in 10 to 12 minutes. 15 TOPS.  One of them can do the afternoon change in 8 minutes. She’s that fast.

Ah but Thurs. was different.  Mommy Dearest care giver, Troll #2, and another carer were here for the full 30 minutes. FIRST TIME they have taken all the time scheduled.  After they left ... my wife took a look at their log book in which something is written every visit and what they did and found etc.

The wife looked at the logbook, and found that Troll #2 had written into the record that the pad under the patient was soiled and needed changing.  But that’s what they are here for.  They get paid to do that Why didn’t they do it? 

AT ALL OTHER TIMES if there is some sort of soiling of that pad (which usually lasts a week and DOES NOT generally come in contact with bad stuff) if that pad needs to be changed, the women always ask us for another pad. Always. It’s been that way for a couple years. All of a sudden, a spiteful and vindictive screechy voiced bow-wow tries to write something in the log thinking I guess that we don’t look at those. 
So I wrote something under her comment.

Finally ...  Friday at 10am we got a house visit from SS.  The rep. spent an hour and a half here and gave us a clean bill of health, not surprisingly.  By The Way …. we left the pad for SS to see.  It needed NO changing.
My bet is however, that we’re gonna have a scheduling problem soon.  Maybe not but these folks can get very difficult.  They do not like being questioned and complaints about scheduling or late visits are met with anger. 

STAY TUNED!  I think this is gonna get interesting.  But I hope not.

-30-

Medical services are free but the NHS contributions take a far higher sum out of a persons pay here then is done in say the USA with Soc.Security payments.  The mil started working full time when she was 14.  No SS then but it did begin in 1948 I believe.  There was a ten year period when she stayed at home raising her two kids as women did in those days.  But when her husband died she had to return to work and did so right to retirement age.
So she did pay her way during her working years.

Posted by peiper     on 11/25/2008 at 08:43 AM   
Filed Under: • Blog Stuff • Daily Life • Medical •  
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   Monday - November 24, 2008

THE MEDICAL EXAM …. THIS WON’T HURT AND YOU’RE DOING FINE.  YEAH? LIKE HELL I AM

Part One:  THE EXAM.

Colonoscopy:
Something recommended for everyone over age 50, especially if there’s a family history of colon cancer.
I just wouldn’t want it done here in the UK again, if I have any choice. And I might not.  Nothing humorous about this subject but before I get into my experience with the procedure done here, I must say the following.

The Brit nursing staff and support people are top notch and more caring then are my fellow Americans. Hey, I am in a position to compare based on personal experience with the two.  So no offense is intended toward American nursing, where my experience after back surgery was dismal.  Now to be fair, my experience was in Riverside, Ca.  That was in ’91 and perhaps things have improved since then although the odds are against that.  And maybe while I had a bad time in Ca. things were the opposite say in Tulsa ,Ok. or San Diego. My experience at Baptist Hosp. in Nashville wasn’t exactly too affectionate either come to think about it.  But I have to tell you the Brit nurses are gold star performers and in spite of the scare stories about doctors mistakes and hospital infections, I tend to doubt that any nurses anywhere can match the care and concern and the training of the nurses here.  But there is a problem and it’s this.

Their guidelines regarding pain management, are as screwed up as a soup sandwich.  The very same people who write their asinine ONE SIZE FITS ALL MEDICAL REGS., also invented the famous submarine with a screen door.  This is the result of politicians getting into the micro-management of the health service.  Of course, this is all for your own good.  (Nanny knows best)

My exam was scheduled for 9am and by golly they don’t keep you waiting long.  In fact, unlike the hospitals and clinics back home, you don’t have to disrobe entirely and you can keep your shoes on.  In Ca. where last I had this procedure in ’04, they had me remove everything except socks.  I can tell you it was warmer doing it their way here.  A nurse even tied that silly hosp. gown that ties in back and is always too small or too open.  Mine wasn’t. They have you wrap a small sheet around your waist which makes you look like you’re wearing as dress.  Not that there was ever any doubt, but I would never have made a sexy looking female and my legs aren’t hot either.
So in I went to the torture dungeon.

I had a device stuck in my hand through which they administer the drugs for sedation and pain control.  Ouch.
You lay on your left side and they insert the camera and having had this done three times in the past, I had never experienced anything more then some discomfort.  Well, you’d expect at least that.  But I’d never had any pain.
Till this time.

I was told that the sedation wasn’t enough to put me to sleep (unlike USA), because the person doing the procedure might need to talk to me.  What? Was he gonna ask me for my opinion on the American election?  Oh, btw. The fellow doing the exam wasn’t the same doc who initially interviewed and examined me the month before this. But no matter.

For whatever reason, I sure felt the damn probe and I didn’t like it one bit let me tell ya.  Hmmmm.  I guess that proves I’m straight.  Whatever. The damn thing hurt like mad and I said so.  Unfortunately, their “guidelines” didn’t allow for any more pain killer or sedation.
Meanwhile he’s telling me stuff like, “you’re doing fine, you’re doing fine.”
Like bloody hell I replied.  Don’t you just hate it when you’re the one going through something and someone not feeling what you are tells you how well you’re doing.

So, I told him to stop the procedure, we were through, that’s it.
And he again told me that I was doing fine.

That’s when I lost it and said, “Get that fucking thing out of there. We’re done.”

I didn’t make any friends that day and the coffee and two dry and tasteless biscuits they give you after a long fast were pretty bad.  So much so that I didn’t drink the coffee or eat the biscuits. 

Some people just need more pain medication then others.  We are not all the same which the guidelines just do not allow for.

So then, how was your week?

Posted by peiper     on 11/24/2008 at 08:56 AM   
Filed Under: • Medical • Nanny State • UK •  
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SO HOW WAS YOUR WEEK? GLAD YOU ASKED.  IT WAS BAD BUT IT GOT WORSE

PART TWO

SO HOW WAS YOUR WEEK? GLAD YOU ASKED.  IT WAS BAD BUT IT GOT WORSE.

I’m not sure I know how to use words well enough to describe the past week, which saw me off line and feeling like a dog.
When the doctor asked me how long I’d been feeling like that, I couldn’t resist answering, “Ever since I’ve been a puppy.”

The rule is start at the beginning but that rule doesn’t apply here.
So I am starting this saga with PART TWO, first.
And to be honest, it really wasn’t funny although I suppose reading it might cause a giggle or two.  That’s because it didn’t happen to you.

On Thurs. Nov. 20th I had a Colonoscopy. No big deal really and millions of people over the age of 50 have had the experience.  Anyway, it’s the preparation for the exam that’s the pain in the butt really.  Or it’s supposed to be. But I’m way ahead of myself.  That’s part one.  Let me tell ya about Part two.

AFTER THE EXAM

My wife picked me up after an exam at the hospital and we were home by 11:am.  By noon or thereabouts, something very strange was taking place.
Sort of a Kafka like experience except it wasn’t all of me turning into something else.  It was an appendage attached to my face.
Guys will get a handle on this quicker then any lady reading same.

So picture this fellas.  Had to use the loo (bathroom) and there I am standing over the bowl and my aim true when, my nose disappeared and in it’s place was a faucet.  With one hand below the water line and the other furiously trying to wipe the water running down my face with my sleeve, this was becoming a circus.  My eyes were watery and my nose was just leaking water like a tap was stuck open on slow but steady leak.

When I managed somehow to finish there, I came downstairs thinking it was all over. I sat at the table with a magazine when suddenly there were droplets on the page.  It had started again only now in addition to watery eyes, my right eye was actually dripping water down my cheek while my faucet/nose was dripping over my lip.  Add a damn headache to all of the above.

Pretty soon I’m blowing the old nose as well and I went through three boxes of man sized Kleenex and a large roll of toilet paper.  It wasn’t too long before the area under the nose was raw from all the wiping and so after each act of trying to clear a stuffy nose, I was putting Vaseline there.  How the heck can one have a stuffy plugged up nose when it’s leaking water at the same time?

How would I know.  Am I a doctor?  So I thought I would wait out Thursday and if things didn’t get better, I’d call my doctor Friday morning. 

As if all this wasn’t bad enough, I couldn’t sneeze.  I still can’t, but thankfully that tickle that says you are about to is gone for now.
Yeah, no kidding.  There was a constant tickle way up the nose and it was nerve wracking because it was telling me to sneeze.  I’m certain if I could have, I’d have felt better.  But I just couldn’t and the tickle kept coming back again and again.

I just couldn’t stay up and so went to bed with another box of Kleenex and took some Sinex for the stuffy nose thing.  That helped. But I also discovered something.

As long as I was laying prone or propped up reading in bed, the runny nose thing eased off quite a bit.  However, each and every time I got out of bed say to use the bathroom or come downstairs for a snack, it would start to run again.  In fact, it would start before I actually stood up.  Soon as feet hit the floor and I was in a sitting position, the water would run downhill.

SO.

Friday morning and with no change in the situation I called the doctors office, (referred to as a surgery here).  My doctor was in but he wasn’t making call backs that day (?) which is ok because first of all I don’t much care for the doctor I was assigned to, and anyway I haven’t seen him for 8 months.
I was told the duty doctor would call me back, and she did within a half hour of my call.

I told her everything I have written here (except that I didn’t care for my assigned doctor. I didn’t think she’d wanna hear that especially as he’s the senior saw bones there) and she said that there were some weird colds going around “at the moment” but she’s never encountered anything like what I was describing.  She also suggested that it was possible that I’d picked up a hospital born viral infection, and there wasn’t really anything she could do for me, even if I were seen by her.  She further suggested I might want to rub some Vicks on my chest.  Well I might not actually.
Finally, she said to “call back in a few hours if things didn’t improve.”
Huh?  What did she imagine they’d be able to do then?  An autopsy?

Stay Tuned:  THE EXAM, Part One coming shortly ...

Posted by peiper     on 11/24/2008 at 08:36 AM   
Filed Under: • Medical • Nanny State • UK •  
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   Monday - November 10, 2008

YOUR CALL IS IMPORTANT TO US, PLEASE STAY ON THE LINE.

YOUR CALL IS IMPORTANT TO US, PLEASE STAY ON THE LINE.
Heck, I didn’t even get that far.

Due to a family medical history, every four or five years I have to go through the
bother of a Colonoscopy.  Routine and thousands are done every year and I’ve had this done in the past.  But to be honest, I have a few concerns.

When my GP gave me the paperwork to call the hosp. unit , Gastroenterology,
I was given a password.  Huh?  I need a password to call and make an appointment?
Yup.  Seemed weird ta me but hey.  If that’s how it’s done.  Stupid sounding password though but okay.

So I called and the appointment was made to ‘consult’ with the doctor who would then schedule the procedure.  Well, it was almost nine weeks before I got to see the doctor for about 15 minutes.  I was then informed that I would get something in the mail in six weeks informing me of the time and date when they would do the exam.
Ok … whenever.

I have an appointment for a medical exam on the 20th of the month.
So here’s the routine and I’ll tell ya but just between us.  I’m not sure I have much faith in these folks.  I’m certain it’s only me but …..  so here you are.

You get a letter finally setting the date and time with a request to call and confirm your appointment.  If you don’t, the appointment will be given to someone else and there’s a time frame in which you should confirm the date. 
Hmmmm, you consider that option.  Maybe you can get away with doing nothing for another year.  You really don’t want to go to the bother of this, especially when you sign that god awful paper that tells you about the things that can go wrong. 
But with a family history of Colin Cancer, always better to be seen and checked because …. ya never do know.  Right? 

So then, you call this number they’ve given you to confirm.  The line is busy. Wait a few minutes and call back but the line is still busy.  This goes on for about five or so minutes and then suddenly when you call back for perhaps the third time, bingo.  It’s ringing.  Oh joy.  It’s still ringing.  Ring-Ring-Ring.  It goes on.  And on.  No automated pick up that tells you how important your call is to them (not that you’d believe it anyway) and no request to please stay on the line.  Ring-Ring $£!!#~!*

Say wait a minute.  Did you even dial the correct number?  A quick glance at the number showing on your phone screen confirms you have dialed correctly.
Ring-Ring-Ring and by now you say aw the hell with it.  Hang up and wait about fifteen minutes and making sure you’re dialing the right number with eyes on the screen …. Bzzzzzzzzzzy!  AhhhhhhGDit %$!!£”%*.  So you wait some more and call again.  Surely this time.  Ring,ring,ring,ring, but you have to hang up this time because you have a desperate need to use the loo (bathroom to us yanks) and you can only keep your legs crossed tightly for so long.

AH … THE PAUSE THAT REFRESHES!

Now back to the damn phone which by now you regard as a mortal enemy to be overcome by whatever means.
Ring,ring,ring,ring and another dozen of the same and still nobody answers.
You get to thinking, maybe your call to confirm your appointment is only important to you and this confirms that.  Ring,ring.

Well finally you’ve had enough and so call the hospital’s main switchboard and ask if there’s perhaps another number for the Gastroenterology dept., as the number you are calling doesn’t answer.  By this time about a half hour has passed.  You ask if maybe you’re calling after hours in error.  You have to ask that because of all the stuff they sent in the mail, the instructions, the powder you’re to mix with water and drink before the exam, the paperwork and the map and the warning about mistakes etc., there are NO hours of operation listed therein.

No, I haven’t called after hours the switchboard tell me, and they do have another number for that department and will call it for me and wait on the line.
Whatever … (they never did give the other number though. Hmm, maybe it’s a secret.  Maybe they’d give it out if you send in a cereal boxtop. ) RING! Ah, success!
Someone has actually picked up the phone.  But ,,, they don’t say anything. After a slight pause they finally say …. “Yes?” In other words, they don’t answer with a dept. name.  You know.  Like for instance, “Hello, Morgue Dept.  How may we be of service?” You drop em we cart em. haha.

Well here’s how the conversation goes from there.
You:  Is this Gastroenterology?
Them:  pause …
You:  Hello?
Them:  Yes?
You:  Ah .. Enterology – Colonoscopy dept.? 
Them:  Yes.  (sounding very much put out and a bit annoyed. probably because they had to pick the phone up.  I don’t blame them at all honestly.  Who knows what I may have interrupted. Maybe something … you know … lets not go there.

Fine. It’s done. Your appointment is officially confirmed but you’re left wondering again if you really want to go through with this on the 20th.  It’s a real pain but in the end (lol) you know you must.

It’s taken over two months to get this far in the process.

Stay Tuned.  See the extended text because ..... 

Posted by peiper     on 11/10/2008 at 12:12 PM   
Filed Under: • Medical • UK •  
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   Thursday - August 28, 2008

Paging Doctor McStupid

Here it is Peiper. I couldn’t find it at the papers you mentioned, but it was over at the Strabane Chronicle.

Naturally the larger part of the news article is about the planned lawsuit.  Gosh, I hope the kid is Ok. That’s what matters, isn’t it? Isn’t it?

An Artigarvan mother is seeking legal advice over a blunder which saw her four-year-old daughter sent home from hospital with the wrong leg in plaster.  The shocking blunder happened on Friday evening, after four-year-old Megan Jack was knocked off her scooter as she played outside her Liscurry Gardens home in the village.  Realising the ankle was broke, Megan’s mother Rose immediately rushed her daughter to Altnagelvin’s Accident and Emergency department.

wrong leg

Speaking on Tuesday, Rose explained: “They did an x-ray on her right leg, where the bone was sticking through the ankle. But then they plastered the left leg. I was so tired that I didn’t even notice. But when we got home, Megan was still in a while (wild?) state and I tried to get her settled and gave her Nurofen. But then I noticed that the plaster was on the wrong leg and I said to my son about it.”

“I phoned Altnagelvin to check and they laughed at me. I couldn’t believe it,” she said.

The mother-of-four has been so outraged at her treatment by Altnagelvin staff that she intends to consult her solicitor on the matter.

“I had to go back to the hospital to have the plaster changed the same night and they just laughed at me again. I’m glad they find it funny because I didn’t and I will be speaking to my solicitor about this. The attitude of Altnagelvin when I phoned them was ridiculous and if I could have taken Megan to another hospital, be it Coleraine or Belfast, I would have. What has angered me the most is that they made a joke out this. You never think something like this could happen and you trust these people with your life. I took my daughter to hospital for help and I got laughed at.”

“They let me and Megan so badly down and at this point legal action is the only course of action open to me,’ Rose said.

When contacted the Western Health and Social Care Trust yesterday refused to be drawn on the possibility of legal action being taken against them. A Trust spokesman told the Strabane Chronicle that the matter had been investigated and was being treated very seriously.

I wonder who set the kid’s ankle in the first place? I bet it was one of them foreign doctors. Probably this guy:

Sorry, It Was the Wrong Foot

JIZAN, Saudi Arabia, 2 December 2007 — A careless doctor put a cast on the wrong foot of a child suffering from a broken leg, Okaz reported. The doctor insisted on putting the cast on the right foot of the child claiming that he knew best because he was the doctor. He decided the child’s right foot was broken just by feeling it and not X-raying it. The father returned home with his child thinking that the doctor had done his job, but was shocked when he later discovered that the wrong foot had been treated. The father then angrily returned to the hospital where the errant doctor corrected his mistake.

Just how hard is it to ask a kid which leg hurts? Or to do some simple diagnosis, like touching it? Or seeing which leg goes sideways, or is all swollen? The Saudi story is bad enough, but the English one, a compound fracture, that takes the cake. What they both should take is the medical licenses. Forgive the pun, but bone heads like these two docs the world doesn’t need!

Strabane is in the north end of Ireland, between Donegal and Londonderry, well west of Belfast

Posted by Drew458     on 08/28/2008 at 08:55 PM   
Filed Under: • Medical •  
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