7. Back To The Knife Men (1)

After a few more years they decided to get Mr. S. to see me again as my joints were getting worse, especially my elbow.

When I went to see him again, he asked if I would like to attend their next case conference as there would be an expert from Eastbourne attending and if he said I should have a replacement elbow then that’s what they would do. I said OK and so on December 1st 1997 Bob and I spent an evening at the Conquest Hospital.

As we were the last to be seen it was approaching 10.00pm by the time I went in. After some discussion they came to the conclusion that a replacement elbow was the only option.

An appointment was made for me to attend the clinic on January 20th 1998 to confirm what action they would take.

The appointment was, yet again, a waste of time as all they said was that they would be replacing my elbow and I was on their list and as I’m a priority case I should be dealt with within a year!!!!

After 6 months wait a letter came saying that I was booked in for an appointment at the clinic in June. I assumed that this was to check that I was still alive as more than 6 months had passed.

I was wrong again. When I saw Mr. S. he said that a new consultant had joined the staff and as he was an ‘upper limb’ expert he should be in charge of my case. I agreed to see the new guy so I was left to wait for yet another appointment.

I went to see the new man, Mr. B., at the end of July and he said that I was too young to have a replacement elbow, as they don’t normally last more than 10 to 15 years. He said he would like to try ‘Arthroscopy’ and give the joint a general clean up and see if that helps. If this action did not do any good then a replacement it would have to be.

So once again I had to wait for a date to be admitted for an operation. The letter came in August that I would be admitted on September 16th at 4.00 pm. I assumed that the operation would be on the Thursday 17th.  I packed my bag and Bob’s mum and dad came down to look after Max (our little boy). I had my pre-operation clinic appointment to prove that I was healthy enough to be chopped up again.

Then on Wednesday 16th September I presented myself at the appropriate ward and was checked in and seen by everybody then Bob left me and I said I’d ring as soon as I was able after the operation.

When I woke up after the operation I remember being surprised that a) my arm was not up in the air, b) I had no drain in and c) I wasn’t in as much pain as I’d expected. This was explained later, as I found out that Mr. B. had made 3 holes in my arm to have a look and there was so much rubbish in the joint that he didn’t dare do anything, as he was frightened of damaging something that was all right.

To say the least I was a bit disappointed. Mr. B. apologised for failing me but he said he would like to ask someone (who used to be his boss) at St. Mary’s Hospital, Paddington to have a look at me, as he is an elbow expert.

So again, I was waiting for an appointment to see yet another bloke at yet another hospital. Is it any wonder that I was depressed?

When I went to see Mr. B. on September 29th I wanted to tell him how disappointed and depressed I was feeling. Also, if I hadn’t heard from the Paddington hospital’s expert by then I’d ask him to give me the phone number so that I could ring him myself.

Well, I didn’t tell him how I felt but I did get the phone number so on returning home I rang them to see if they had a) got my correct address and b) fixed an appointment for me yet. The answers to these questions were yes and no. Mr. E.’s secretary said he had received the letter but I should ring back in about 2 weeks.

2 weeks passed and after checking the post I rang the hospital again. She said that they hadn’t got an appointment for me yet but I should ring back in about 10 days as they only received the letter on 24/9/98.

As you can imagine my mood had not improved much!

I was betting that when the appointment did come it was not even for the same year. If that had been the case, I was going to get back to Mr. B. and explain to him that it is not very nice or good for my mental state to be passed from one man to another like a hot potato.

Well, as they say in the song. ‘What a difference a day makes.’ When we got home from the dentist the next day lying by the front door was a letter franked St. Mary’s Hospital. The letter was dated 6th October and my appointment was for 15:00 on the 29th. As I’d be there for hours I’d have to go alone as it would not be fair to make Max come home with me during the rush hour.