Assertive
Oh, I am so weary of having to be assertive.
The Communist is now temporarily in a geriatric ward until a kick-bed becomes available in the nursing home.
Having heard this term, kick-bed, bandied about for a while, and having no clue what it meant, I decided to pretend I was doing a medical roleplay, where we draw attention to any jargon they are using in the hope that they learn not to use it.
"So what's a kick-bed then? One where you kick the patients?"
- - Ah, no, that pulled everyone up short. Turns out it's a CIC-bed, as in a Community Intermediate Care bed. Of course, you'd have guessed that, wouldn't you?
In the geriatric ward, for the first time, I encountered Nurse Who Doesn't Listen Because The Patients Are Old. All the other staff have been great.
"Hello," I said, "please could you tell me how my father is supposed to call for help when he needs it? Because last night he was in a lot of pain and he shouted and shouted and nobody came. He doesn't have a very loud voice at the moment and he's right down the far end of the ward."
Nurse-Who-Doesn't-Listen looked bemused.
"He should press the buzzer."
"Could you show me the buzzer, please?" I asked sweetly. "Because he couldn't find one, and neither can I."
Nurse-Who-Doesn't-Listen reluctantly followed me to the bed. She rummaged behind the bed and found the bare wires, on the end of which, in the distant mists of time, used to be a buzzer.
"Oh, well, there are always lots of staff about," she said, looking uncomfortable for the first time.
I pushed home my advantage.
"And when someone did finally come," I said, "she said he couldn't have any more painkillers because he'd had all he could have. But actually, he's written up for Oromorph on request, so something has clearly gone wrong there."
"Ah, yes, well, yes, I'll investigate that, umm - - "
"And, finally, just one more thing," I said, "When they were getting him out of bed today, one of them grabbed hold of his leg to put it in the proper place. His leg is bandaged because he has lots of ulcers. Underneath the bandages are lots of raw wounds. So, as you may imagine, it's extremely painful if you touch it at all and absolute agony if you grab it. So please could you make sure that everyone who's caring for him knows this?"
"Oh, er, yes, er, I'll put it in the notes - - "
I smiled at her, and the subtext to my smile was this: "Unlike most of your patients, sunshine, The Communist still has a brain that mostly works. And he will report back to me what goes on here. And if he's still in the same bed tomorrow I'll be taking a photo of the Bare Wires that Used to Be a Buzzer. So, as my old Grandma used to say, Think On."
But I hate doing it. And it's exhausting, and I can't bear it. The only good thing about it was that The Communist witnessed it, and it made him smile. But I wonder what happens to old people who don't have a stroppy daughter who's used to dealing with the NHS?
The Communist is now temporarily in a geriatric ward until a kick-bed becomes available in the nursing home.
Having heard this term, kick-bed, bandied about for a while, and having no clue what it meant, I decided to pretend I was doing a medical roleplay, where we draw attention to any jargon they are using in the hope that they learn not to use it.
"So what's a kick-bed then? One where you kick the patients?"
- - Ah, no, that pulled everyone up short. Turns out it's a CIC-bed, as in a Community Intermediate Care bed. Of course, you'd have guessed that, wouldn't you?
In the geriatric ward, for the first time, I encountered Nurse Who Doesn't Listen Because The Patients Are Old. All the other staff have been great.
"Hello," I said, "please could you tell me how my father is supposed to call for help when he needs it? Because last night he was in a lot of pain and he shouted and shouted and nobody came. He doesn't have a very loud voice at the moment and he's right down the far end of the ward."
Nurse-Who-Doesn't-Listen looked bemused.
"He should press the buzzer."
"Could you show me the buzzer, please?" I asked sweetly. "Because he couldn't find one, and neither can I."
Nurse-Who-Doesn't-Listen reluctantly followed me to the bed. She rummaged behind the bed and found the bare wires, on the end of which, in the distant mists of time, used to be a buzzer.
"Oh, well, there are always lots of staff about," she said, looking uncomfortable for the first time.
I pushed home my advantage.
"And when someone did finally come," I said, "she said he couldn't have any more painkillers because he'd had all he could have. But actually, he's written up for Oromorph on request, so something has clearly gone wrong there."
"Ah, yes, well, yes, I'll investigate that, umm - - "
"And, finally, just one more thing," I said, "When they were getting him out of bed today, one of them grabbed hold of his leg to put it in the proper place. His leg is bandaged because he has lots of ulcers. Underneath the bandages are lots of raw wounds. So, as you may imagine, it's extremely painful if you touch it at all and absolute agony if you grab it. So please could you make sure that everyone who's caring for him knows this?"
"Oh, er, yes, er, I'll put it in the notes - - "
I smiled at her, and the subtext to my smile was this: "Unlike most of your patients, sunshine, The Communist still has a brain that mostly works. And he will report back to me what goes on here. And if he's still in the same bed tomorrow I'll be taking a photo of the Bare Wires that Used to Be a Buzzer. So, as my old Grandma used to say, Think On."
But I hate doing it. And it's exhausting, and I can't bear it. The only good thing about it was that The Communist witnessed it, and it made him smile. But I wonder what happens to old people who don't have a stroppy daughter who's used to dealing with the NHS?
posted by Daphne at 9:09 pm
3 Comments:
I'm trying to get used to it - I find it's useful to copy the features of "child-directed language" that they use to the patients. "Hel-lo, do you have a wheel-chair? He needs to go in-to the day room (question intonation).
However, I've no idea what to do when the doctors and nurses ask me about his condition. "Yes, I have five degrees in medicine and I also work as a carer. You're the fucking doctor."
Terrible. My heart goes out to you.
My one and only stay in an NHS hospital was in Jimmy's in 2005 and although the staff were ok, the ward was disgusting and I told visitors NEVER to go into the toilets as they were cleaned in the mornings and that was it - you can imagine the state they were in after a few hours !
God I was SO glad to get out of there and amazingly did so without being in a worse condition than when I went in.
I hope The Communist gets that kick bed soon. In the meantime, bring him in one of those fog/football horns. He might only get to use it once but the staff will certainly know about it.
I often wonder where on earth many (not all) of our so-called nursing staff are recruited from. A lot of the rot set in when nursing became a degree profession and many nurses decided that, as they had a degree, it was now beneath them to do the things that nurses had always traditionally done. The most worrying thing, though, is the lack of empathy and concern for patients.
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