Midnight Emergencies, Mistaken Prescriptions and an Uncomfortable Phone Call.
In January of 2013, two months after my heart surgery and amputation, I was finally moved from The Golden Jubilee Hospital (in Glasgow), to Raigmore Hospital (in Inverness).
I was elated by this development. It was, quite literally, bringing me closer to getting back home. Inverness is only a forty minute drive from where I lived at the time.
A number of medical professionals who had looked after me throughout my life were based in Raigmore. Knowing that I would likely be seeing some of them, I wanted to make sure that the outcome of my surgery wouldn’t come as a shock when I rolled into the building with a reduced sock-wearing capacity. I was assured that anybody who had known me before would be informed of what had happened.
Unfortunately, when I arrived, it became clear that the message hadn’t quite reached everyone, including the consultant that had looked after me since I was a very young child.
So that was a fun conversation.
How Did It Go?
Upon arriving at the hospital, I was handed a phone to speak with Dr Fakename, as he was having a day off but still wanted to check in when he heard that I was at the hospital.
“Hello David,” he said cheerfully, “It’s good to hear from you. How did the surgery go?”
I remember my heart skipping a beat at that question. No part of me, for even a second, suspected that he might not know what had happened. I suppose that goes to show how little I understood the system at the time. He hadn’t been my consultant for over a year by this point, so why would he be kept up to speed with what was happening with me?
I stuttered on the phone for a few seconds, not really sure of the correct way to continue the conversation.
Eventually, there was nothing to do but tell him exactly what happened.
I remember him saying how sorry he was, followed by me assuring him that I was doing well despite everything. The call was a short one and I think we both came away from it feeling incredibly uncomfortable.
After hanging up, I remember my mum also being quite shocked, having figured out what was going on from hearing my side of the conversation.
There were two nurses in the room with us during the call. Both of them had looked after me during a long stint in hospital the previous year. Through those months, they had gotten to know me and my family pretty well.
My mum asked them if they had been told about my amputation and they confirmed that they hadn’t. The first they knew about it was seeing me roll into the room five minutes earlier.
Roomies
Feeling pretty down after that conversation, we went upstairs, to the ward I would be staying on.
The first night there was quite unusual.
When I was sent up from Glasgow, it had been arranged that I would be placed in a private room on the vascular ward. This was mainly due to the fact that even though I was now in adult services, I was still essentially just a kid and giving me a separate room would mean that family could stay with me.
Unfortunately, when we arrived, there wasn’t a room available. I ended up being placed in a shared room with a number of other patients. Not a single one of them was within fifty years of my own age.
This wasn’t really any big problem to be fair. A few of the other guys on the ward were quite friendly and chatted away to me about all kinds of things. Others were clearly more unwell and not able to communicate very much at all.
In the middle of the night, I remember an alarm going off, followed by nurses running to a man two beds away from me. There was a lot of whispered shouting and it felt like they were attending him for a long time. From what was being said, it sounded like he had suffered from a stroke in the middle of the night.
Early the following morning, there was another incident when a different patient got up to use the bathroom and had a pretty nasty fall. Apparently, the floor had been “too polished”.
At some point that afternoon, one of the nurses came along to move me into a now free separate room. As interesting as my stay in the shared ward had been, I think as a seventeen year old, I was a little shaken by the fact that a man just a few feet away from me had very nearly passed away.
More than anything though, the new room meant that one of my parents would be able to stay with me through the night.
A Quiet Place
At least, that’s what I had thought.
So, it was a little surprising when, that evening, one of the nurses came along and told my parents that it was time for them to leave. We didn’t really understand the reasoning behind this. This was a private room so it wasn’t as if any patients would be disturbed by them being there.
We were told that because I was an adult, they wouldn’t allow me to have anyone stay overnight. This caused a fair amount of tension, mainly due to the fact that, as mentioned above, the hospital in Glasgow had a different view of the situation. They were of the opinion that although I was technically in “adult services”, the trauma of what I had recently been through, combined with the fact that I was only seventeen, allowed for a little loosening off on the rules.
After a bit of back and forth between my parents and the nurse, I told them that it would be fine and I’d be able to see them the next morning. So off they went, very unhappily, and I was in the room by myself.
Suddenly, I found myself missing the larger ward. At least there had been other people around to talk to. Here, it was just me and a few beeping monitors. Occasionally, a nurse would walk past the window and smile in but aside from that, it was a pretty lonely experience.
Doubling Down
Early the next morning, a nurse came in to give me some medication. She handed me a small plastic tub with pills inside and I noticed quite quickly that she had given me double the amount of one of the drugs I had been taking. A very strong painkiller that can also be used as an antidepressant.
I asked if it had been upped for some reason. She told me it hadn’t, and that this was the dose that had always been prescribed. As politely as possible, I informed her that I had actually only been taking two pills and she had placed four in the tub. (I know that pills can come in various strengths but this was from the supply that I’d brought with me from Glasgow).
Without even bothering to take a quick glance at the medicine sheet attached to the foot of my bed, she told me that I was wrong and the dosage she had given me was correct. Again, I disagreed with her and said that I’d been taking them for nearly two months and was pretty sure I’d have noticed taking four tablets over two.
I was then accused of being rude and difficult, before she stormed out of the room, saying that another nurse could deal with me.
Not long after that, another nurse came in and quietly told me that I shouldn’t “be rude” to his colleague. I told him that I had not meant to be rude, but I also wasn’t going to take the wrong medication just because the other nurse hadn’t checked properly.
When he looked over my information, he saw that I was correct and she had, in fact, been trying to give me a double dose of the medicine.
He apologised, and promised to make sure that it wouldn’t happen again.
Not long after this incident, my parents arrived. I told them about what had happened and, as you can imagine, they weren’t exactly thrilled.
In fact, my dad decided to go and have a word with the nurse in question, who apparently couldn’t have cared less about the situation. All she had to say was “these things happen” and that I should have been more polite.
The icing on the cake of this whole experience came that evening while a nurse was setting up my overnight antibiotic drip. One of my parents mentioned the fact that they weren’t happy to be leaving me alone through the night again and she told them not to worry because, as it turns out, there was no rule saying that they couldn’t stay with me while I was in a private room.
Apparently, the nurse who had told us they couldn’t stay the previous night had been mistaken…
What Happened Next?
I’m adding this small edit to this post because I have had a couple of people message/comment me asking if the nurse was reported.
We did lodge a formal complaint once I had left the hospital. While I don’t know the outcome we, made sure to inform the relevant people of what had happened.
It is true that mistakes can be made and that is fine, but the reaction of the nurse in this situation was unacceptable.
The Wisdom
- Always double check.
People make mistakes, even you. It happens.
There is never any harm in taking a second look at a situation, especially when it is something as important as your health.
Obligatory Blog Quote
People who get better in hospital do it in spite of people like you, not because of them.
My dad, to the nurse who tried to give me the wrong pills.
Stay safe folks, and be excellent to each other.
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