Hello again,
I’m still here but, to be honest, a bit brain addled from sleep deprivation so doing very little that involves thinking in any way.
In my last blog I mentioned that it had become obvious to the hospital staff that I would not be able to go home after my left ankle fusion op as my ‘good’ leg was not strong enough to bear the weight of two, I clearly couldn’t manage stairs and there was nobody at home to help me.
I have to say that this has been my only complaint about the whole process. I had my pre-op some weeks beforehand and flagged up the difficulties with the joints in my right leg and the circumstances at home. I also had members of the rheumy team writing to them to alert them to the situation but it seems that bed management and hospital discharge work on a ‘fire-fighting’ basis rather than anticipating needs and putting things in place.
There were two of us in a similar situation. Both being terribly aware that we were occupying acute beds and therefore potentially holding up someone else’s treatment but also having absolutely no idea where we were going to end up for our rehabilitation. It is surprising how vulnerable you feel under those circumstances.
After changing their minds several times within the space of 4 hours and a couple of nights stop-over at the local community hospital, I was allocated a bed in an Old People’s Residential Home (I am 58 yrs old) just around the corner from where I live. This was achieved by getting the hospital social worker involved in my case and the allocation of NHS funding which, subject to availability, can be used for the first 28 days that you are still in plaster.
The maximum amount available for this (soon to be abolished) grant is an astounding £415 per week although it still fell short of the actual cost, the difference in which was made up by me. I assume that I qualify for this grant as I am on state benefit and have no other form of income - I shudder to think how much I would be forking out if I was still earning.
I still feel terribly guilty about using up so much of the NHS resources but apparently this is cheaper for them than keeping me in hospital.
I’m guessing that the ideal scenario for those of us, who live alone and need post-op care, would be to return home to a bed and commode downstairs and carers coming in 3 times a day to see to our needs. This was not an option for me, however, because of complications with dog and daughter.
So here I am, 5 weeks later and now switching to social service funding. I’m still sitting here with my foot stuck out in front of me like a lethal weapon wrapped in blue plaster. I arranged with the Red Cross to deliver a self-propelling wheelchair to the home so I can at least get from one side of the room to the other and transfer to the loo without help. The joint will be x-rayed next week and if all is well I will have another 6 weeks of partial weight bearing in plaster which will help me get around but still not enable to manage stairs.
Being in a residential home with mixture of dementia and non-dementia residents was my worst case scenario but it has actually been quite bearable (although not a holiday location choice). I have become quite fond of my fellow inmates, even the ones who turn up at my door for no apparent reason in nothing but their knickers.
One of the things that has kept me going has been the storing up of hilarious anecdotes of life here. I shall be able to ‘dine out’ on these for weeks after my ‘release’ and maybe share some of the characters with you. Oh how I wish I could write well enough for a book.
Home from Hospital
broken wrists
A letter from home after a long weekend in hospital part1
Home from operation
