Ward 64 to be more specific: surgical receiving, ie in limbo between a real surgical ward and the badlands of ED.
Simon left A and E a few hours after I did, to come here. They managed to organize a CT on a Sunday which was great, and we got the results some hours later and it was reassuring. In the meantime, the ward is a miserable place to be. The beds and chairs are uncomfortable, there are always alarms going off somewhere, a young woman is sobbing and distraught in a corner, and the nurse is trying unsuccessfully to place a nasogastric tube into the patient next door. Simon’s patience was wearing thin, and when the registrar tried to tell him they wanted to keep him for a few more days of conservative treatment, he politely declined. “Discharge against medical advice” is such a strong term I couldn’t possibly apply it here, especially with possible insurance cover implications. But I can’t argue that this ward would be anything but torture to stay in any longer. Apparently the doctors asked him what his wife thought about him going home, which I would have loved to have seen, but unfortunately I had taken the opportunity to go for a walk in the lovely autumn weather. The Necropolis, a fabulous Victorian cemetery like Highgate, or Bolton St on steroids, is just across the road.
I had a much needed walk out in the fresh air, it was just disappointing that I managed to miss the ward round. I raced back to get to the ward as quickly as I could, only to find there was only one exit, which was a mile out of my way. So, as it turns out the riskiest thing I’ve done all weekend was escape over this very scary and forbidding wrought iron fence. I remember thinking as I was doing it that it was a really dumb idea. Imagine if I’d ended up back in A and E, for myself this time.
After only another couple of hours of waiting (honestly, hospitals are very much like airports in that respect), we got the paperwork we needed. We were worried about finding an after hours pharmacy to get the prescription filled, but actually they just gave us the drugs directly. So much easier! Not so easy was getting a copy of the CT scan report. It seems we have to wait until we get back to NZ and make an official request to medical records. What a faff. At least the whole hospital visit was completely free, thanks to a reciprocal agreement between NZ and the UK. Marvellous! With any luck we won’t have to make any insurance claims at all. We’re only out of pocket one extra night of accommodation here in Glasgow, and we’ve probably saved that in food and entertainment.
All going well, we travel to the Lake District tomorrow.