The Howling Man
Against all odds the Communist is quite a lot better and they are going to try to send him to a nursing home after tomorrow if he continues to improve.
One of the odds that he's been up against is Mad George.
Mad George is in the bed opposite and is totally senile and very ill. Sometimes he sleeps, immobile, for a couple of hours: but when he's awake, or half-awake, he mostly howls. He howls at the top of his voice. Sometimes he makes loud growling noises. Sometimes he makes vomiting noises. Sometimes he actually vomits.
When George is conscious for a while, he shouts aggressively and fruitlessly at Polite Ted in the next bed, who apologises so politely "I'm very very sorry" that I can't stand it and I want to cry. But I can't because that would upset the Communist even more than the howling and bawling.
All the time that the Communist has been in that hospital, Mad George has been in the bed opposite. For several hours a day the Communist and Polite Ted and the ever-changing occupant of the fourth bed have to put up with it. But at least Polite Ted is able to wander out of the bay from time to time: the Communist can't move.
Mad George is clearly in incredible distress. If he were your dog, what would you do? - You know the answer. It's terrible to watch him.
On the other hand, it's terrible for the Communist who has to put up with this agonising racket. And when my mother comes to visit, the combination of the fluorescent lights and the howling gives her a migraine.
Today, when Mad George had been howling for an hour without a break, my mother lost it. She shouted at him to be quiet. Then she went and found the ward staff and shouted at them. She told him, correctly, that the noise is making the Communist thoroughly miserable. She asked why Mad George can't be moved to another bay? Or to a side room?
I wasn't there whilst this was going on: I was trying to cheer up the Communist and simultaneously point out to a nearby nurse that Mad George was being sick on the floor. But the staff my mother had found seemed to be saying to my mother that Mad George can't be moved because there's nowhere to move him to, and anyway the Communist should be leaving hospital in a few days. (This, by the way, is a really crap reason. An hour of this howling is equal to ten days in somewhere more pleasant).
But why they can't at least swap Mad George for another patient for a while, to give that bay a break, I really don't know. The Communist is coping with it better than I would. If I were in the bed opposite Mad George, I would be screaming, loud and long.
And this is supposed to be a place of recovery and rest. What the hell are we playing at? I feel a letter to my MP coming on.
One of the odds that he's been up against is Mad George.
Mad George is in the bed opposite and is totally senile and very ill. Sometimes he sleeps, immobile, for a couple of hours: but when he's awake, or half-awake, he mostly howls. He howls at the top of his voice. Sometimes he makes loud growling noises. Sometimes he makes vomiting noises. Sometimes he actually vomits.
When George is conscious for a while, he shouts aggressively and fruitlessly at Polite Ted in the next bed, who apologises so politely "I'm very very sorry" that I can't stand it and I want to cry. But I can't because that would upset the Communist even more than the howling and bawling.
All the time that the Communist has been in that hospital, Mad George has been in the bed opposite. For several hours a day the Communist and Polite Ted and the ever-changing occupant of the fourth bed have to put up with it. But at least Polite Ted is able to wander out of the bay from time to time: the Communist can't move.
Mad George is clearly in incredible distress. If he were your dog, what would you do? - You know the answer. It's terrible to watch him.
On the other hand, it's terrible for the Communist who has to put up with this agonising racket. And when my mother comes to visit, the combination of the fluorescent lights and the howling gives her a migraine.
Today, when Mad George had been howling for an hour without a break, my mother lost it. She shouted at him to be quiet. Then she went and found the ward staff and shouted at them. She told him, correctly, that the noise is making the Communist thoroughly miserable. She asked why Mad George can't be moved to another bay? Or to a side room?
I wasn't there whilst this was going on: I was trying to cheer up the Communist and simultaneously point out to a nearby nurse that Mad George was being sick on the floor. But the staff my mother had found seemed to be saying to my mother that Mad George can't be moved because there's nowhere to move him to, and anyway the Communist should be leaving hospital in a few days. (This, by the way, is a really crap reason. An hour of this howling is equal to ten days in somewhere more pleasant).
But why they can't at least swap Mad George for another patient for a while, to give that bay a break, I really don't know. The Communist is coping with it better than I would. If I were in the bed opposite Mad George, I would be screaming, loud and long.
And this is supposed to be a place of recovery and rest. What the hell are we playing at? I feel a letter to my MP coming on.
posted by Daphne at 10:04 pm
1 Comments:
Unbelievable. Everytime you give us an update about the ward, it makes me nuts too. The very worst aspect of being in that hospital for me was what was going on around me - the noises and smells of the other patients. A 'howler' like MG would've sent me over the edge for sure and he really should be sent somewhere else for the sake of those near him.
Yes it'll be great to get your dad out of there but sadly the issue of MG will remain for the next poor patient.
Does he ever get family visitors ? I wonder what do they think of the situation or maybe they're just happy to be able to get away from his antics. I bet your dad will continue his recovery much faster once he's away from him.
Ian
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