Visiting Mum in “jail”

That was what this dratted hospital reminded me of. That and the fact that the so-called infection control seems to be non-existent.

At the entrance to the wards, there are pumps that dispense this grotty alcohol free anti-microbial gel. I went to use the one that was outside the ward, only to find that it was empty. So, as I entered the ward area, I found another dispenser, liberally coated my hands and told one of the auxiliaries that seemed to be doing very little.

“Ok – I’ll get that sorted out”

No worries there – or so I thought. I located where Mum was (she looked pretty good, all things considering), and sorted out a seat for myself. Now I know from past experience that when I have been to visit Mum in hospital, it was almost a hanging offence to sit either on the bed, or the chair that was beside the bed, as there were chairs in the day room that visitors were supposed to use.

This time, I could have sat on Mum’s bed without anything being said to me. Not a good indication as far as I could see for infection control. Then the sadists turned up (sorry – I mean physiotherapists).

Now when Mum had her hip sorted out, it was a rule that no patient was allowed out of bed without putting slippers on. This time? Mum could have walked all over the ward in bare feet, and not one person would have said a damned thing to her.

Add into this mix, the mere fact that it was a good thing that Mum had taken some of her own medication into hospital with her, and you get the impression that I am less than impressed with the standards that I have seen. It turns out, that no medication has been sorted for Mum, despite the fact that she gave the pre-operative clinic all the information.

I made my escape, and on the way out, checked the dispenser that had been empty as I entered the ward, and found that it was still empty. To be honest, the sooner I can get Mum back home, the better. I really don’t want her staying in that fleapit of a hospital any longer than is absolutely necessary.

Guess I should call this quits – I’ve got to call the playpen and see if I can book some extra time off, as I don’t have the foggiest idea when Mum is going to be allowed home.

Back later, if I get the chance.

Karen

Now some things you hold on to - and some you just let go
Seems like the ones that you can't have
Are the ones that you want most