Werewolves and Angels

Fleeting memories return now and again of my first evening in Intensive care: I remember Gill’s comforting presence; I remember the uncomfortable feeling of the ventilator tube in my throat and Gill tells me I made several motions to the effect of wanting the damn thing out; I remember getting tingling in my fingers a toes that would cause me to wiggle them which, Gill tells, me looked as if I was waving to everyone in the ward; I remember the miming of pulling a pint, but not why and I remember miming the actions of a werewolf after someone mentioned there was a full moon.

At some point through the night my ventilator was removed as I was able to breathe for myself and started to become more aware of my surroundings. First thing that struck me were the number of tubes coming out of me. I had a catheter for my urine, a drain removing blood and fluid from my chest, venous access in my neck, groin and right wrist (x2) and a line delivering local anaesthetic directly into my wound site.

Looking after this mess, and the tubes, was an angel by the name of Elaine. She efficiently ensured everything was flowing where it should and that if it wasn’t the problem was sorted instantly. But this was no cold efficiency, it was all done with a warmth and care I shall cherish for the rest of my living days and not just for the care she gave me. Gill was full of praise for the way Elaine worked and said that the only reason she didn’t stay overnight with me was the confidence instilled in her by the sheer professionalism exhibited by Elaine. She was in no doubt I could have received any better care.

As the day progressed Shona and Jane took over my care and the high standards continued. Working as a pair it was good to see the way newly qualified Jane was encouraged and guided by the more experienced Shona and this highlighted the exceptional level of communication skills on show within the Unit. I don’t think it would be a bad idea for all staff to spend some time in the presence of ICU staff to explode the myth that talking to patients and fellow staff at every opportunity takes up valuable time, on the contrary I’m sure, as I’ve always been, that in the long run this approach saves both the staff and patient time.

Well all good things must come to an end and, dosed to the eyeballs, late this afternoons I was transferred to the post surgical ward after being judged as being past major risk. So off to ward 30 it was and despite some drug induced panic on my behalf regarding my morphine dose, addiction setting in?, I settled in nicely and promptly fell asleep.