Happy ending

At about eleven a porter showed up with a wheeled chair, and took me out of A&E into the vast basement area of the hospital to reach a lift that would take us up two floors to the Ambulatory Day Care unit on the upper ground floor. It's in the same neighbourhood of departments that has the radiology department, with MRI, X-Ray and Ultrasound scanners. I was last here for my gall bladder removal in February. 

There's a suite of seven reclining comfy chairs in separately equipped medical bays all in a row opposite treatment rooms and home bases for specialist medics whose services are most called upon. In another area there are single bed medical units for patients needing to be cared for in isolation, and some small operating theatres for routine procedures that can be done on day patients because they don't need a longer stay under medical care. 

Given the advances in keyhole surgery the number of patients that can be treated has risen. There are complaints about long waiting times for certain kinds of complex surgery especially joint replacement. An averagely ageing population means that the number needing this has grown beyond the capacity to provide it, so inevitably waiting lists are very long. When I look back five years to when I was waiting for my anal abscess to be treated surgically, there was a wait of four months from initial diagnosis to day surgery. This was partly due to the demand of the few diagnostic scanners available, and then there weren't enough of the specialist diagnosticians trained to read the results, inform and interpret to the surgical team how best of target their scalpels. The more precisely a surgeon could operate, the more productive they could be. 

More and better diagnostic tools have been invested in since then, and it will contribute to waiting times dropping. But there must also be sufficient staff, well paid and motivated to make this happen. There's still not enough investment in the entire NHS to bring about change at the desired pace. Let's hope that the use of AI in medical research can make a difference to diagnostics but to helping the institution reform itself by interpreting to NHS leaders what needs doing to ensure what change towards greater efficiency can be implemented without detriment to staff and patients, and without breaking the bank. That's quite a big ask. Thus a patient ponders in the waiting hours, night and day. 

A couple of the other patients who spent last night attached to drips in the upstairs IV lounge moved downstairs with me. They were likely to admitted to other wards once further tests had been done and a suitable treatment plan drawn up for each of them. Mine was simple in comparison. It was a matter of waiting for the next two stages of the medical procedure to take place. But first more checks on vital signs  then soup and sandwiches for lunch. It was gone four when I was summoned into a treatment room near my bed where the ENT team were based.

Dr Emily had inserted the packing balloon and inflated it. Dr Amanda withdrew it, then waited to see what the consequences would be. Nothing happened, so she inspected with a strong light and identified several lesions up my left nostril. Once the mucus and congealed blood had either come out on its own or been chased out with gentle suction, she was able to cauterize the tiny wounds, almost painlessly, and apply an antiseptic dissolving wound dressing that would protect the nostril from infection for several days before I needed to self apply the naseptin cream I've used before, for the next two weeks. All very straightforward. The harder part was getting myself discharged.

Temperature and pulse normal, diastolic pressure a healthy low number, systolic pressure worrryingly high. Again. This happened after my gall bladder operation too. It was hard to persuade the doctors and the nurse in charge that for me this was usual, and inevitable considering the stress of 36 hours in constant artificial light, no exercise, three hours sleep with interruptions for checks on vital signs, as well as the shock element of the procedure, and the direct application of foreign chemicals to nasal skin - one of the most sensitive surfaces of the human body. Enough to make anybody's blood pressure shoot up. In the end they agreed, and off I went, just after six to visit the hospital's cashpoint, to get some money to pay for a taxi home.

When I got into the taxi I quickly realised that I didn't have my 'blood bucket' with me. I'd parked it on top of the ATM while I withdrew money and walked away excited, without it. I leaped out of the car and ran back to the Concourse lounge to retrieve it, while the taxi driver followed me and waited just outside the entrance doors. It gave a little comic relief to the end of the whole affair. With Hallowe'en tomorrow, the discovery of a bloodstained Gower beach bucket might have been deemed a tasteless grisly prank by whoever found it. The only people to know anything different were the ENT team and a few A&E nurses who already knew and were amused by it. Anyway, untoward incident avoided!

Traffic was very heavy all the way home, unusual for a Tuesday evening, except for something which my taxista observed. On Cardiff Road there's a large house decorated for Hallowe'en as a haunted mansion. It is owned by a couple who run a company dedicated to producing special effects for TV and movies, and it is done to raise funds for a children's charity. After it was publicised by local journalists, people have come in droves to see it, parking their cars along the neighbourhood roadside making it too narrow for coaches to pass, adding hugely to traffic congestion nobody wants. Unintended consequences. The journey home was twice as long as usual and cost me more as a result. But it was interesting to see, and I was back just in time for the Archers.

I'm deeply grateful for the experience of the past thirty six hours, not only for emerging well treated from my little bloody catastrophe, but for being able to see A&E staff teams in action, working their hardest in demanding sometimes distressing circumstances. So stressful, but the warmth and good humour expressed in the way they worked together, the sensitivity and tenderness with which they related to patients, and despite being over worked, underpaid, unfairly criticised and vulnerable when anything goes wrong. Here is love in action. Where is God in the midst of all the misery and suffering? In the hands, hearts and minds of those who give their lives right there where it's most needed.`

Such as relief to be back in my own bed again tonight.