What's going on???

I sometimes wonder if 'Him up there' is having a laugh. This morning, I woke up to 5 inches of snow and still falling. After lunch, I struggled out to shovel the snow off Keith's Range Rover, in a bid to use that instead of my car to visit him in hospital. Having finally gained entry, I turned the key in the ignition and............nothing. The battery has evidently gone flat as a result of not having been used for ten days. So, as it was now raining and there were faint indications that an early thaw could be on the way, on to plan B - use my car and hope for the best.
The tricky part is getting out of the estate as the exit is a slope, but I managed that and set off down the road, driving in the tracks left by those who had passed before me. Before long, I felt it was not very safe and so decided to turn back for home. As I did so, a snow plough sped past, scattering grit as it went. "Great!" I thought, "I'll follow that and have another go."
So I did. I'm not sure what sort of grit they were using, but it didn't seem to be making any difference to the road surface and half way along the road, I skidded.
(By the way, I would like to offer my grateful thanks to the two men standing in their front garden, who watched my struggles as I turned the car yet again and headed back for home. I hope I gave them a few moments of entertainment.)
Back home again and I attempted, without success, to turn round so that I could park in an outgoing direction, as usual. Next plan, drive to the end of the cul de sac, turn round there and come back, which I eventually managed to do with a great deal of slipping and sliding.
So now, my car is once more parked outside and hopefully awaiting its journey to school in the morning................we live in hope!

The Caring Profession

Perhaps someone better qualified than I can explain why, when Keith's leg had been immobilised on Tuesday, the physiotherapist then appeared on Thursday wanting him to do excercises. When he explained that he had been ordered not to move it and would therefore not be doing any excercises for now, she replied that, in that case, she would have to put him down as 'having refused treatment.'
Oh and then there was the nurse who brought him an elastic stocking for his 'good' leg and, although he did point out that he was not physically able to put it on by himself as he couldn't move his bad leg, left it on the bed for him.
Update on Keith's progress. Doctors examined the ankle on Thursday evening and discovered that the immobilised bones had in fact moved and there was talk of having to put a plate in in spite of the risk of infection. However, they then decided to manipulate the bones into place again and put a full cast on, which they did yesterday. Fingers crossed that this will work and he will soon be home.

Hospital visiting!!!

Having been told last Friday night, after Keith had been safely installed in his hospital bed, that 'visiting is 2-3pm and 7-8pm but we are flexible' I have had varying degrees of success at sneaking in to see him 'out of hours' without being noticed. This afternoon, however, was different. I was accosted by a nurse on my way to Keith's room and told that visiting hours were 2-3 in the afternoon (it was then 4.10pm).
"Yes," I said, "but I am at work then. I have been coming later all week."
"Well, we're tightening up on visiting hours," was the reply. "Did you ring this morning to ask if you could come later?"
"No, I have been coming at this time all week." (Oh and I'm sure there is another reason....Ah yes, work! I can't ring when I am in class!)
"Well, you can have five minutes but I'll have to clear it with the nursing staff."
Five hours in the company of stir crazy 3-5 year olds meant I was running a little short on the patience and forebearance front and I have now reached the age when I am am not impressed with being berated by a 'kid'. I glared at her..........she evidently decided not to push it and retreated.
I stayed half an hour, just to make the point.

And now what?

Latest decision is that the damage done to Keith's skin by the broken bones means that it has to be given a little more time to heal before he goes back to theatre, which means that they won't do anything further until Friday or, more likely, Monday.
Meanwhile the morphine drip was taken away this morning, with promises that the 'Pain Management Team' would put alternative pain relief in place. At eight this morning, his pain was getting worse and he asked to be given something to help. At three this afternoon, they got their act together and got him written up for something but when I visited this evening, the pain was still bad and he was hoping that he wasn't going to be in for a bad night.
If he is, I think the night staff might be hearing about it!

Another op?

So today the doctor came to see Keith. He told him he would be taking him back to theatre on Thursday. Why? Well after the cracks about being taken to watch a pantomime, which is rather apt as the name of his ward is Pantomime - don't ask me why - he had to confess that he didn't know.
"Didn't you ask?" I asked.
He looked sheepish and shook his head, then muttered something about, maybe they want to do some more manipulating.
Why do men never ask the right questions?

We have the technology

Keith was swiftly removed to a single room yesterday as there was a note, no-one seems to know why or where from, about MRSA. He hasn't got it and has never had a problem with it, but the benefit was a room to himself with his own TV which means that I don't have to miss Emmerdale and Coronation Street when I visit in the evenings. Every cloud....................
This afternoon it was decided that his operation should take place today instead of later in the week, as first thought, so off he went to theatre. Three hours later he was back, having had his bones manipulated, the ulcer cleaned out and his leg strapped up, and there he lay, lord of all he surveyed, with an indecent amount of thigh on view and wondering how soon he could be up and running around like a three year old.
So all he has to do now is let nature do its work, refrain from getting it infected and take it easy long enough for the bones to knit properly. It's the last that I think we might have trouble with. You can't keep a good man down...............

Pass the Gaviscon

Keith is good at cooking but, unlike a lot of good cooks, isn't too fussy about eating the odd substandard meal - which is just as well when I'm doing the cooking, but we'll gloss over that one. However, even he has rapidly come to the conclusion that culinary standards in our local hospital leave a lot to be desired. In fact, he wondered aloud yesterday, in between plugging himself full of pain relief with the self-administering contraption beside the bed, how 'they' in the kitchens could possibly manage to ruin food so efficiently. In Keith's case, although I haven't mentioned it to him yet, this could be an advantage as it could result in weight loss which could only be beneficial - if he stops forcing me to smuggle in chocolate and crisps, that is. But I had to smile yesterday. The man in the next bed, having demolished the hospital lunch, then proceded to tuck into pie, chips and mushy peas, brought in for him by his visitors. Within ten minutes the plaintive cry was heard:
"Nurse, could I have some Gaviscon please - terrible indigestion!"