that go bump in the day 49

only way is up, ouch, banged my head on the sky! (07/09 – 09/09)

adventure part 2 and thankfully not just better and easier, but a
whole bunch shorter as well.

here we are on the surgical assessment unit, still without any
particular information regarding what is going on or what is being
proposed. Dave is at home trying to collect together a few vital bits
and pieces, my meds and my phone power pack and a change of
underwear. I do not need much, as I have already decided that my stay
has been longer than I am happy with! BP is taken again? I cannot
work out why they bother taking the arm-band off, as it goes on again
before it has time to fully deflate? If my BP was a concern earlier
it really should be now, as dumping me here has it up at 177, but a
cuppa and some toast manage to calm me and it drops down to a better
134. A nurse making beds on the 4-bed section I walk into, says I am
her favourite type of patient. As you would expect, I assume she
means, young, good looking and entertaining, but she corrects me by
saying that ‘walking’ is the only criteria! I warn her that I may not
be as good as she thinks because, if I can walk in, I can just as
easily walk OUT!

try to persuade me that getting ready for, and into, bed would be
good, as I can rest. Ha ha, very funny! Passing out through
exhaustion is more likely than rest, but I am not going for that
either. I give in, so far as sitting on the bed after finding the
chair is not very comfortable. A phone call from a dear friend, with
hospital connections, informs me that someone from within will come
to see me soon and find out what is going on. Almost before the phone
is down the lovely Jo, in full uniform complete with hospital stripes
and medals, comes breezing in to save the day. It may have been a
complete coincidence (as if!), but seeing her and recognising the
position she has in the hospital hierarchy, suddenly I am being told
stuff and treated better. She insists that they put a butterfly logo
up for me which shows I have dementia, and stops them from keeping on
asking me endless stupid questions. Look at the paperwork, the
answers are all there! Jo goes off to talk and use the phone, but at
this time not much is known. The consultant needs to do his stuff,
but I feel better, much better, just knowing a force is now in my
corner. I, as a person with memory issues, had to remind them later
about putting up the butterfly.

time later, when actually relaxed and comfortable enough to doze, I
kept hearing my name mentioned in phone conversations regarding
transfer to a different ward. This again got my full attention, as I
would rather stay here now that I am settled. As it turned out, Jo
had asked for them to try and get me to the ward where they look
after patients with any mental difficulties, but there were just no
spaces, nor likely to be. Lorraine came to visit during the
afternoon, and Jo came back to check on progress. They had lots to
talk about, both being hospital dementia peeps who are involved with
dementia awareness training in this hospital?????? It was wonderful
to have my mind so distracted from what was actually going on. I must
say, that since being finally moved upstairs and onto a ward, the
reaction towards me and the understanding of my dementia condition
(and being a human being) has been brilliant. Last night is almost a
distant nightmare memory. Almost, but never quite. Visitors have to
leave for one hour at 5:30 for patients to have dinner. So why do
they insist on taking BP etc. during the visiting time when visitors
are about to leave for an hour??? They move me during dinner time,
but under protest. I want to eat in peace. Thankfully the move is
only to another 4-bed room, not a different ward. I am moved, from
what had been me and three delightful females, to an all male room. I
text Dave and Lorraine to say I have been moved. I am so on edge,
that worries of them not finding me, and then leaving, pop up. Stupid
boy! Dave came in heavily laden with goodies, including my laptop so
that I can work and try to keep the blog notes going. It did not
work. as I could not think straight enough for typing for the first
two days.

visitors leave in good time, before 8pm, but others do not. Very
tired and in need of sleep, but too much hustle and noise to even
seriously consider it. Total madness during the night, with lights on
all the time; doors open, so noise of talking and phones; at least
five bed changes on a 4-bed ward, as peeps come and go to surgery.
But I am not one of them, thankfully. Finally got some sleep due to
total exhaustion and stressful forty-two hours awake. But banging and
moving around at 7am, so that BP and temp could be done, had me fully
awake again. Hard to believe that I had, by now, only been in the
hospital buildings for thirty-eight hours, as it felt like several
lifetimes of experience had gone down!

now, Thursday morning, I am feeling fine, can sort of see OK, am
restless, and need to be walking. The consultants from yesterday, not
that I had any recognition of them at all, turn up at

and discuss the idea of getting the necessary MRI scan done as an
outpatient, as it will/could take several days to schedule it now,
and ONLY 10 weeks on the out! They decide to go with a CT scan now,
and get the stroke team and specialist eye teams to see me asap. I
ask if I am on the escape committees radar for today, but they assure
me today is not an option as they still do not know what has
happened, or is still happening. I try to tell them that, apart from
weird shapes in my left eye, all is great. They humour me and vanish.
Jo came up to see me again, which was really nice, but she had a
staff training event to sort out and attend. I joked that I am not
very busy and would be only to happy to come and do some dementia
awareness training, straight from the horse’s mouth so to speak,
patient wrist-band already in place lol.

decide to have a wander around and inspect my domain. The room is
boring, full of unfortunate sick people, so I explore the rest of the
ward. About fifteen different sized rooms including comfy seating
areas and SHOWERS. I come back to my room, ask a nurse for shower
stuff and a change of clothes, and off for a shower. By now it is
occupied, so I return to my bed to find a woman has come to do papers
about me. The nurse tells her I have come back but, without even
turning to look at me, she tells the nurse that she did not want talk
to me, only see the papers. OK, sorry for existing! Lovely bedside
manner! I guess she will go far. Nice shower at last made me feel
even better, but which also made me feel even less like wanting to be

some time I got ‘wheeled’ down for my CT scan, which upset the poor
people sitting in the waiting room as they had the machine waiting
for me to come from the ward. I was pushed straight in, past rather
disgruntled outpatients. In, done, out. Five minutes, and back to the
ward. Stroke team came to talk with me, and listened for fifteen
minutes as I told them all about my history and this most recent
adventure. Then they leave to discuss it all with others? When they
return I am informed that they do not think it was a stroke. So
sorry, no can help, and away they go? Late afternoon and no eye team
yet, or at least not that I saw lol!. Not looking very likely for
today, by now. Dave came to visit again. Must like the place much
more than I do. Dave tells me that no flowers are allowed on the ward
for patients. Nice he cared enough to check ha ha! Late in evening
and wanting rest, but other visitors still around, so still busy.
Eventually I find out that this ward has no set visit time, so peeps
are around just about all the time. Had a better night, as it was
darker due to lights being turned down. Also, I pulled my curtain
around, and the door was shut;

only two bed changes during that night. Must have been a slow surgery

here I was, still in hospital. By now I’m fighting fit, except for
my left eye, and it is Friday.

as good as being the weekend! By the usual 10am the consultants had
not shown, and I was not slow in making it clear to staff that I am
NOT happy, but I AM going home. But…but…but….. forget it!

am going, ‘but’ or not! My thinking is that, it being Friday,
nothing is going to happen that is not already scheduled. The golf
course beckons most specialists, so they are not going to be coming
to see me, eye trouble or not. I am not sitting around doing nothing
for a whole weekend, I have STUFF to do! On Monday I have Parliament
to go and see, courtesy of my local MP, and I am not sitting around
here and missing it. If any healthcare staff; nursing, management or
specialist need me, they have my address and telephone number on
record, so can find me. Based on their performance, so far, in
finding information on their systems, that should give me at least
one month head start lol. They have had my body here for two whole
days and done nothing with it, so I am taking it away with me.

wander off to the wonderful shower room I visited yesterday, but am
confused. There are only three choices, but I am not able to find the
shower??? One room looks kind of right, but there are no shower
attachments, so it cannot be. I have to explain that I am having a
dementia moment and need help to find the right place. Job done, and
now dressed, I tell staff and the sister I am leaving. The
consultants finally turn up and, after a brief conversation plus some
visual and mental testing, they agree to sign me off so that I can go
home. But this is only on the guarantee that I attend a whole raft of
appointments they are making for me. This is only after they have
tried to explain that they are transferring me to another hospital.
Ha ha, you think so! I think they are just trying to stall my exit,
and I insist on no transfer to anywhere but home, see ya! They get
the other hospital to ring me with an outpatient appointment for
Monday. Wow, that is quick! But I move it to Tuesday as I’m a bit
busy Monday. Finally it is agreed I am fit to leave so long as
someone will come and get me, rather than me just walking out. I find
that Lorraine is around here locally, at this very time, getting her
hair done, and will come help me escape once finished. Great, sorted!
I am ready and raring to go!!!

spot some admin peeps being shown around the ward, so I collared them
to talk about the tiny, almost invisible, butterfly. I suggested that
it needs to be on the ward’s patient-board, not hidden somewhere
around the bed. It is pointed out, there on the board, that the
butterfly is against my name? It is now, but was not yesterday when I
looked at everything on the ward during my adventures. Seems that
maybe the ward were tipped off that a sort of inspection was due to
happen, and put things in order overnight! They asked me how was my
stay up here. I told them it had been good, but that downstairs had
been a disgraceful nightmare that needs sorting out.

being much of an expert on female hairdressing appointments, I had no
idea just how long I would still be trapped here. I had originally
told the sister I would be gone by midday (stupid unwitting male),
but the final escape did not occur until mid-afternoon, after the
sister had asked if I had changed my mind. I told her that I would
gladly change it, if they have a good one lying around, as this one
does not seem to work very well any more lol. At last I got a message
to say Lorraine was on the way to rescue me, just at the moment Bob
and Juliana arrive on the ward to visit me. It is wonderful to have
visitors, and maybe a good job I had not actually got out at the time
I expected. Thanks for your efforts peeps, very much appreciated. It
had been two excessively hot days, while I was trapped just watching
out of the window, and now I am out it is wet and miserable. Who
cares? I am free for now, with just a whole heap of appointments with
the GP, clinic and hospital to make, and keep.

a very short walk that evening, downhill, after a bus ride, but it
killed my legs and left me breathless. Boy, do I need to get my body
going again! Will put that right over the next 48 hours with two
walks. If I survive, I will be back very soon with the next week of
walks; parliament; hospital; GP etc. etc. etc.

for hanging in there with me people, and a special big mention to
Dave for all his efforts, and putting up with my tantrums that first

in case you missed, rather than avoided, all my various mentions
about donations, via blog; website; Facebook; Twitter (yes, I am
trying to learn how to be an even bigger twit now on Wayne Chewtor
Eaton), I’m trying to get donations for The Alzheimer Soc., not
sponsorship, just donations. Think of it as sponsorship, if you wish,
and sponsor me to continue blogging, speaking and generally keeping
on keeping on. If it wasn’t for the great work done by so many
volunteers, then we, me, us, PWD, would be in a far worse place. Help
me, to help them, to help us! Thanks peeps xxx

here to do the deed WAYNE’s DONATION PAGE

you would find it simpler you can TEXT a donation by sending CHEW80
then £amount to 70070.

ya soon