8. I'm Going To London

My mum volunteered to keep me company at the appointment so we met at Paddington station and walked round to the hospital. After a bit of lunch, we arrived at the clinic at 14:30, a bit early. After a while a nurse appeared to tell us that they had some visiting consultants and were running about 1½ hours late. Mum went off to find a drink and so I asked the nurse whether I should go to the x-ray department as I was bound to need some. She said that was not possible as the doctor had to see me first.

We finally got to see the big man at about 16:45 and after a few questions he sent me off to have some x-rays taken (Oh what a surprise!). Again, I had a longish wait and got back to see the doctor at about 17:50 where he said it was obvious what my problem was even if the cause was not and despite all his reservations the only way forward was to replace my elbow. He then said that his lists weren’t too long and so I should be done in the New Year. I decided not to hold my breath!

As the 11th January 1999 arrived with no word from the hospital, I rang to say that I hadn’t even received an acknowledgement that I was on their list. After a few hours they rang me back to say that they had sent me a letter, which I obviously did not receive, and so they would send another. I decided to give them to Friday (15th) and if it hadn’t arrived, I’d ring again.

Friday arrived but the letter didn’t, so I rang them again. I was given the waiting list clerk’s direct phone number so I rang her. She told me that no one had spoken to her, no letter had been sent and I wasn’t even on the operation list. This was all I needed and so I burst into tears. She did say that I would be put on the list and I may have to wait up to a year. When I told Bob he said I should write a letter to complain which I was doing.

I decided over the weekend that instead of writing I should ring again on Monday and speak to the man I spoke to last week. So, on Monday I rang the hospital again and got straight through to the male secretary. I told him that I must have misunderstood what he’d said last week as the waiting list clerk told me something completely different. He said that Mr. E. had failed to send her the ‘pink card’, which was why she had no knowledge of me. He took my number and said he’d try and sort it all out.

On Tuesday (19/01/99) he called me back to say he had sorted everything out and I should be called for my operation in March but the waiting list clerk was going to talk to Mr. E. when he returned and try to get my operation done in February. I was over the moon but I decided again not to hold my breath until it was done.

On 01/02/99 I rang the waiting list clerk to see if anything had happened and she said that dependant on when Mr. E. was working I would either have my operation in mid-March or some other time.

On 18/02/99 my letter arrived I got all excited when I saw the letter on the carpet. I first saw the postmark so I rescued it from Max and then I could see some words through the window ‘I am pleased…’. So, after opening it and seeing that I was due to go into hospital on 11/03/99 and have my pre-op MOT on 01/03/99 I rang Bob and then my mum and then Bob’s mum. Lastly, I rang the hospital to say I was okay for their dates.

On Saturday 27/02/99 Bob collected the mail off the mat and brought it up to me in bed and told me not to get upset as he could see the word ‘Unfortunately,…’ through the envelope’s window. The letter said that they had had to cancel my operation and written on the bottom was a message saying they would let me know the new date as soon as possible. Stapled to this letter was another letter saying that I was due to go into hospital on 04/03/99 so they had in fact brought it forward. Therefore, I still had to go for my MOT on 01/03/99 and my mum said she would come with me again.

I had been labouring under the illusion that if I went in on the Thursday, I would have my operation on the Friday and probably come out on the Saturday. At my MOT the Doctor said that I would most likely be in for a week altogether.

Bob’s mum and dad (Ken and Joyce) came down on 03/03/99 and Bob and I went up to the hospital on Thursday the 4th and I discovered that I was in a side room all by myself and that each bed has its own phone, luxury. Late that evening I was told that I was first on the list for the next day so they would be coming for me just after 8 o’clock.

The following morning, as time was getting on, I asked the ward sister if I should be having my pre-op bath. She didn’t know when I was due to go down so she thought there was no hurry. When I told her I was first on the list she went into a bit of a panic and said I should go straight to the bath.

I went down at about 8:30 am and I didn’t get back until about 2:00 pm. I discovered that I was in no pain as they had put some sort of block in which meant that my whole arm, from my shoulder to my fingers, was numb. I did have a morphine drip connected to a small machine which allowed me to control when I wanted some, but wouldn’t let me overdose myself (I called it my junkie bag).

A couple of nights later as I was trying to get to sleep there was a bit of a commotion outside and it turned out that some old drunk was not feeling too well and as he couldn’t be bothered to wait in casualty he simply walked up to our ward. As he saw an empty bed (amazing) he climbed in!!

Soon after this I had to be moved to a bay in the main ward, as someone else needed my room. In the bay there were 6 beds so I had five other women around me two hip replacements, to my right, two knee operations to my left, and another elbow operation opposite.

The lady in the bed next to me was having her third operation on her knee and as she was in such a lot of pain and her body chemistry was so messed up, she was unable to use her junkie bag properly and give herself the morphine she needed. These problems culminated in her going temporarily mad one evening and attacking everyone, including me. I nicknamed her Attila The Gran after this. Had she known what she was doing I would have been annoyed but as it was, I found it rather funny.

They kept me in for about ten days, to make sure there was no infection.

One strange thing happened the evening before I was due to be discharged, unknown to me, an enormous blood blister had been growing just above my elbow, under the dressings, which chose that evening to burst just before I went to sleep. I called a nurse as my bed looked like an abattoir. Fortunately, it did not delay my discharge.

After my release I had to return, weekly, for physio. Paddington is a long way to go for some man to play tug of war with your arm. However, once again I was shown there is a good side to some physios.

After a couple of months, when it was obvious that I would get no more movement from my elbow, my physio sessions stopped. I was perfectly happy though as I had next to no pain anymore. HEAVEN.

However, I discovered that the operation involves cutting off the end of one of the forearm bones. This meant that the remaining bone is able to move a bit too much in my wrist, which is why sometimes I can feel it grinding when I turn my hand over, but you get used to it.

Dem Bones – Damn Arthritis!

Your toe bone was connected to your foot bone

Your foot bone was connected to your ankle bone

Your ankle bone was connected to your leg bone

Your leg bone was connected to your knee bone

Your knee bone was connected to your thigh bone

Your thigh bone was connected to your hip bone

Your hip bone was connected to your back bone

Your back bone was connected to your shoulder bone

Your shoulder bone was connected to your neck bone

And then arthritis destroyed the lot!