A thoughtful post from the young lady in London named Kat whom I asked you to pray for several times. Kat had an allogeneic stem cell transplant on May 23rd. She has had many ups and downs since she was first diagnosed with Double Hit B Cell Lymphoma in September, 2012. You may read the entire article and more about Kat's journey on her blog The C Word:
The reason I started this blog last September was to keep my family and friends informed of my progress and to document everything to do with my illness and recovery. I never anticipated that people I’ve never met before would be following me and would care about what happens to me – be it friends of friends, people from the triathlon/running world, doctors/nurses and anyone else. Either way, the interest is welcome, especially if I can help by using my experience or raise awareness of any kind. So today, I’m writing about my experience of being in hospital and from a perspective of one of my best friends, my sister-in-law. This blog post is for all the doctors and nurses out there, experienced, junior or in training – it’s all relevant.
I’ve touched on this subject in previous posts before, but I feel more than ever it is important to lay this out as it is, especially since my sister-in-law has just given birth and a few weeks on, she’s still in hospital fighting off complications.
As you all know, up until about a month ago, I’ve spent the past 10 months living half my life in hospital and half my life at home. My longest spell as an inpatient was just over three weeks. A lot of the times, I was restricted to my room or the ward, I wasn’t able to go outside or other parts of the hospital. I had everything done for me and I missed my freedom and independence. I felt helpless, frustrated, alone and the longer I was in hospital the more I got depressed, the more I started to lose motivation. Had it not been for Ade, I would have felt a lot worse, he kept me going. But the one thing that kept me going even more was the prospect of going home, and this hope was given to me by the doctors and nurses that were looking after me. Each time I was in hospital, I was given this hope and on several occasions, this hope was ripped out from under my feet and each time this happened, I would get even more depressed, frustrated and upset. The reason why the hope was taken away from me so often is because doctors and nurses don’t communicate properly with each other or simply say what the patient wants to hear. Here are a few examples:
-On one occasion, I was told by a nurse that if my blood levels were normal and my temperature didn’t spike, I would be able to go home the next day. The next day, they were normal, but the doctor said that I couldn’t go home unless they have been stable for 48 hours.
-Another occasion I was told by a nurse and a ward doctor that I would be allowed to go home for a few days before my blood levels dropped. However, my consultant said no and that I was to stay in. I wasn’t able to go home for another 8 days.
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I’m not attacking what the nurses and doctors do, in fact I think the vast majority do an amazing job. This blog is just to highlight what it’s like from the other side – the patients. So if you’re a nurse or doctor, or indeed training to become one, remember this blog and remember how something so little can mean so much to a patient in hospital.
Read more here.
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