It is very difficult to write a
piece objectively about a relative and the care they have received during a
stay in hospital. The following words
are not a criticism aimed at any one person or event. It is merely the story of a woman and her
struggle to retain dignity in testing circumstances.
My mother in law is an amazing
woman. In May she will be 70 years old,
she was orphaned as a child and brought up by an Aunt, she and my father in law
married young and had four children, up until quite recently my parents in law
also fostered children, in excess of 35 of them. My mother in law has cared for her
grandchildren whilst her own children went out to work and she has always been
extremely active. Her faith in God is
unshakable and she has the kindest heart of anyone I know.
In August MIL went to her GP
complaining of severe back and leg pain, eventually she was sent for an X ray
and informed that her hip was fine and no fracture was visible. Four weeks later she was in utter agony
eventually taking herself back to the hospital and refusing to leave until she
was given another X Ray, despite being told ‘your hip is not broken we have
done one X ray we do not need to do another’ In desperation my MIL said, ‘well
I cannot and will not leave, until you do’.
She was right her X ray showed a fracture. The words uttered to her? ‘You cannot go home
Mrs Lamont, your hip is broken, you must have had a fall since your last X ray,
did you? Oh and by the way you will need surgery tomorrow’. Sometimes the patient knows their own body.
The repair plate was inserted and
MIL bounced back with such vigour that even the nursing staff were amazed with her
ability to cope and within a week she was discharged home. Life was difficult for her, she struggled to
get in and out of bed and get to the bathroom.
Eventually it was so painful getting in and out of bed she took to
sleeping in her reclining chair in the lounge, snatching pockets of sleep as
the pain would allow her. The pain grew
worse. The physiotherapist assured MIL
that this was a natural result of hip surgery, but MIL was scared and in
pain. After approximately 10 days,
despite encouragement from family members and assurances things would improve
MIL was at rock bottom. The pain in her
leg was excruciating and she no longer believed our words of reassurance all
she knew was her world of utter misery and pain. When she could stand it no longer she made my
brother in law drive her to the hospital and demanded (yet again) another X
ray. She was right, the screws in her plate had come lose and were constantly,
unbeknown to us, scraping against her muscles with every move she made. Sometimes the patient knows their own body.
Mother in Law had to wait in
hospital for a week whilst a special Titanium plate was ordered in to replace
the original that now had to be removed.
Her spirits were low and we tried to encourage her that this time it
would be better and to try and get her to focus on how well she felt
immediately after the first plate insertion.
Eventually the second plate arrived and MIL underwent her second
operation in less than 6 weeks. Her
recovery this time was slow, she was nauseated, constipated, down hearted and
had needed a blood transfusion following the operation. She wasn’t helped by a bout of diorehea 3 or
4 days after the operation that incapacitated her for 24 hours. Whether this was caused by 2 days of
laxatives (due to constipation caused by the drugs) or a ‘bug’ we are yet to
find out.
Her recovery was harder for her;
she depended on the help of the nurses far more and felt like a burden. A feeling that was alien to this strong and
vibrant woman and she cried more often, especially if she couldn’t raise a nurse
in time enough for her to get to the bathroom and this resulted in her ‘having
an accident’. It was hard to stay calm
for her and each day we just kept telling MIL and ourselves she was a day
closer to going home.
It was about this time I did
decide to put my foot down, MIL felt she was being treated as ‘needy’ by some
of the nursing staff and after a while of letting the situation calm down and
there being no improvement, I rang the ward.
I actually rang the ward because MIL had been told she would be going
home this particular day and had got herself dressed and sat in a chair
waiting, refusing to eat, in case she had sickness or diarrhoea in the
ambulance on the way home. When I rang
the ward it was gone 6pm and she was still waiting, crying to herself in her
chair. The nurse was icy, until I gently
reminded her that my MIL was normally a strong, kind hearted, independent, Christian
woman and that the nurse should perhaps review her notes and realise this was
MIL’s second repair in 2 months and she just wanted to go home. The nurse and I agreed no ambulance would
come that day and that I would explain this to her, NOT the nurse, as I could
persuade MIL to return to her bed. I
rang MIL and gently broke the news to her and promised her faithfully that no
matter what happened the following day I WOULD get her home and my heart ached
as she sobbed down the phone to me. The following
day my sister in law and I booked a wheelchair taxi just in case and informed MIL. Eventually at 3.p.m. the ambulance arrived
and MIL went home.
This time Mil’s attitude was
different, she seemed permanently down hearted and she worried constantly about
the plate in her hip and fretted constantly about her recovery. Her wound started to weep blood and
puss. After a few days there was no
improvement, in fact the wound had become sore and constantly weeping. MIL was returned to hospital the week before
Christmas, the following day she returned to theatre to have the wound re-opened
and washed out, swabs and tests were carried out and we waited and waited. MIL
needed yet another blood transfusion.
She sat in hospital for Christmas and between Christmas and New Year we
flew out to visit.
It was now 10 days since MIL’s ‘wash
out’ and her mood was optimistic as she was beginning to feel physically better
as the antibiotics appeared to be holding the infection at bay, or so it
seemed. Time was running out on our visit and my Sister in Law decided to stop
being patient and ‘demand’ some answers and managed (eventually) to get an
appointment with the ward Doctor. We
carefully explained that mother was a strong, optimistic woman and this was not
the person we knew was sat in the side ward on her own that he saw. We asked if the infection was in the bone or
the plate and were assured that they did not know that for sure but that they
had some results back and MIL had 2 infections in her wound (whether this was
in the bone, plate or soft tissue they didn’t know!) one was a common streptococcal
infection usually found on the skin, the 2nd they were surprised by,
it was a bug most commonly found in the bowel but was now present in MIL’s
wound! (Remember the laxative incident!) The plan of campaign was to put MIL on
an intravenous drip of antibiotics for SIX months and oral antibiotics for 12
weeks but they were confident this would cure the problem and once the wound
had stopped weeping MIL would be allowed home to be cared for by the Community
Nurse. Things were looking up, or were
they? Time passed and we returned home
assuring MIL that although she had to have IV antibiotics for 6 months at least
it was clearing the infection and ensuring that it was totally eradicated. MIL accepted
this and everything seemed calm. Sometimes
the family know the patient’s body.
MIL stayed in hospital and the
wound improved but still continued to leak, we asked for the results of the
plate and bone tests they weren’t very forthcoming. Then the infection control team got involved
and said that MIL could indeed go home the following Monday. I was uneasy, I lay in bed and fretted,
something wasn’t right, it didn’t feel right, but was I just worrying, fussing,
being over protective of a woman I love to pieces and had been through such a
hard time? I spoke to my husband,
without trying to worry him anymore than he was. I tried to explain that
something didn’t ‘feel’ right and eventually I rang my sister in law (a
qualified and practising Community Nurse) I suggested (after a conversation
with a friend who has extensive experience in the hospital environment) that we
asked that MIL was not discharged until we were certain that the infection was
under control and until we had, had an in depth conversation with the surgeon. What ensued was a maelstrom of events!
My sister in law and I drew up a
list of questions and eventually managed to secure a meeting the following
morning after informing the surgeon that MIL was due to be discharged that day
with a weeping wound. The surgeon was
unaware of this and an ultra sound scan of her wound was ordered, it showed a ‘large’
pocket of infection inside MIL’s hip near the joint. We were also informed that the infection was
indeed in the plate and that as a result MIL needed urgent surgery to remove
the plate with the option of traction or cement spacers (laced with antibiotics)
being placed into the hip. It was
devastating news, utterly devastating, this would be operation number 4 in as
many months and with each operation MIL’s recovery time was slower and more
traumatic to see. Sometimes the family knows the patient’s body.
MIL had her operation on Wednesday;
she was very sick, very emotional, very sore and very downhearted. The family are worn out. We feel frustrated and hopeless because we
live in the East of England and can’t be there as much as we want. My father in law who has never been separated
from his wife has barely had her at home since August/September and there seems
to be no end to this misery as MIL now faces a total hip replacement in 6 – 8 weeks
IF the infection can be got under control.
In the words of the surgeon following MIL’s operation this week, ‘it was
a good job we got that plate out when we did’ excuse me but weren’t your
hospital all set to discharge MIL on Monday leave her on IV antibiotics for 6
months, withdraw them and then ‘see what happened’?. If I weren’t so concentrated on MIL and her wealth
fare I would have gone into orbit. Today
news breaks of 3 small, newborn babies dying of infection at The Royal Victoria
Hospital and a deep cleaning operation to clear the infection that has devastated
3 families and robbed them of the most exciting time of their lives.
My MIL told me yesterday she just
wanted to die, she doesn’t, she just feels that way at the moment and I can
understand why. I will let you into a
secret, I don’t think we are anywhere near the end of this debacle and I am
worried about the future.
