Breaking bad news

Bugger. Bugger. Bugger.
I am so annoyed with myself.

My dad has been in hospital for two weeks, following a dense stroke. The way I found out about
this was horrible.

On the 19th May, I was on a phlebotomomy course at my local hospital which is 10 minutes away from home and 5 minutes away from my mums house. My mum was on holiday so i decided to walk the three dogs around to her house so that I could go there at lunch time and walk them around the block. When I got there at lunch time, I had a look through all of the post which had mounted up in the hall. There was a postcard there from my dad's brother which said "Charlie is on trumpton ward - cerebral haemorrage"

When I read this, the world froze and stood still for a while. My dad is extremely fit and 59 years old. I couldn't comprehend what was written, so I telephoned the ward. The conversation I had with the ward "Nurse" who answered will stay with me forever as a shining example of how not to communicate. I explained about the postcard and got silence in reply. I asked what had happened to my dad (I do nurse-bank work in the casualty department next door to this ward and they do know me as an associate). She replied that she was unable to tell me (Fair enough but not particularly good when your world is crumbling) so I said "It says here that my dad has had a brain haemorrage, is this what has happened?" I could actually hear the snigger in her voice as she said "Something like that, you will have to come to the ward"

So go the ward I did.....another nurse met me and I explained the postcard story. She told me that my dad had had a really bad stroke and could I go and sit in the corridor whilst she was doing the ward handover? I sat in the corridor for 40 minutes. I just wanted to see my dad (The last time I has seen him, three weeks before he was roofing a house, moaning and smoking).

Having been a nurse for ten years I understand the way that wards work, but now on the other side for the first time I understood what people go through when someone close to them becomes ill. I got quite angry at this point and all but barged into the ward to see him.

For a few days after, the shock of how I had found out about his stroke really haunted me. It is two weeks later now and the shock has passed, but I promised myself that I would remember how bad I felt and try harder to empathise when dealing with relatives who are going through this.

So what did i do this morning? I really buggered things up. My mum rang from Heathrow to say she was back from holiday and waiting for a flight to Manchester. What did i do? I told her about my dad's stroke. It just came out and I never expected that she would get so upset. Even after the experience that I had, I ignored the shock factor and told her. What a stupid thing to have done when she is stuck away from home. I just can't believe how stupid I have been. So now, she will be upset all the way home and her friends will be annoyed at how cruel I was to tell her over the phone when she is away.

My mum and dad were married for 25 years and divorced about 18 years ago, but have always stayed in touch. I wouldn't describe them as friends really, just people who have known each other most of their lives and have no reason not to stay in touch.

I will try to finsh work early today and go home to see her. I will make myself remember how hard the past two weeks have been for me and remember that she too is going to have a rough time whilst the impact of what has happened sinks in.

I don't know why I am writing all of this down. Perhaps it should feel cathartic - it is upsetting to write and if I am honest, I don' t think that I will want to read about this dark time in the future.

If anyone is reading this though and you have a mum and dad who are fit and well and going about their mundane, normal daily business, take a few minutes out to chat to them today.

I would give anything now to be able to call my dad and have a normal, everyday chat with him.

Where should a mature medical student live!

If you have read my other entries you will realise the impact that my dad's stroke is having on me. However, I am going to carry on with my plans to go to medical school in September, in case he makes a good recovery.

The big issue for me at the moment is where I should live when i start the medical course. The uni halls seem to be nice enough places but the catered halls will mean me living amonst 17yr olds away from home for the first time. I have visions of me trying to sleep whilst they all do the conga past my room at 3am every night.

Self catered halls might be better perhaps. My other option is to be a sub warden in the halls - I figure that then if they try to conga past my room, I can at least put my "Old responsible" head on and stop their nocturnal fun! If I do the warden job, I get free accomodation which will save me £4000 a year. Not to be sniffed at. For a look at the true horrors of young lads living in halls have a look at:
http://www.wacktopia.com/bigandclever.php

I especially like the bit "Every now and then we'd get a visit from our local sub-warden, a thirty year old irish tw*t who would patronisingly tell us that "I know its your first time away from home lads but try to keep the noise down a bit and stop setting fire to people's hair" or something like that whilst pasting up "Wacky Generic Student Drinking Night" posters"

Hmmmm.

another day in the sideward

OK - so this Blog is supossed to be about my journey from nurse to doctor, but my fathers' stroke (see last entry) has put medicine into the background.

I think I have learnt more about basic nursing care this week than in all my years of nursing. I am a big fan of Dr Crippen's blog, http://nhsblogdoc.blogspot.com/ and having seen the lack of basic care given to my father this week, I absolutely 100% agree with Dr Crippen's call for a return to good nursing skills.

My dad is on in a stroke rehab unit. The one thing that has surprised me this week is that although I am sure it is hectic in the morning, the rest of the day seems to follow a nice steady pace. There are always nurses at the nursing station and my hours of watching have convinced me that although heavy, it looks a nice place to work.

This is why I have been surprised at the lack of care. Each night when I have arrived, my dad has been wearing food stained clothes with a bulging catheter bag and sitting with his bare feet on the floor. In front of him, every night has been a cup of congealed cold tea. My dad has never been the fussiest of people and won't give a hoot that he has liquidised cauliflower down his front, but he looks uncared for.

I certainly don't mean this to turn into a moany blog, but as a nurse I can clearly see what is lacking.

What a cruel world

My father had a stroke last Wednesday. He is only 59 years old and has worked as a joiner since the age of 16. The risk factors for him were present - long term smoker, heavy drinker and father dying of a CVA when he too was 59. I spend my working life doing lifestyle councilling - testing cholesterol, blood pressure and lecturing men about reducing their risk factors for CHD. Ironic really - my dad told me to bugger off when I tried to lecture him about smoking and drinking. Ten days ago he was tiling a roof, whinging about Tony Blair. Now he is alone in a side ward, unable to speak with no movement down his right side. What a cruel world.

I'm finding it very strange to be on the other side, watching the nursing and medical care. I visited him at 1800 last night to find him sitting in his little room staring at the wall. The nurses had kindly closed his door and shut the curtains, so the only stimulation for this youngish (To me) man was a magnolia wall. Having been a joiner all his life, my dad would be sitting there studying the door hinges, wandering how on earth he had gone from roofing a house to sitting in a chair, dependant on the nurses for everything.

Despite ten years nursing, I don't know much about strokes. I work in non clinical occupational health and have been away from the NHS for many years. From what I understand, he could recover some speech (I would give up all of my teeth if I thought this would help him).

I made the mistake of reading up on his condition on the internet. I read that for every three people who have a stroke, one will be dead within the year, one will recover fully and the other will recover with some disability. Looks like a lottery to me - he has as much chance of being back on his roof in 12 months as he does not being here at all.

Personally, this has massive impact. I think there is a big chance he is going to need care and there is no-one but me available to give it to him. How can I let a 59 year old man go into a nursing home? Perhaps the medicine will have to stay on the backburner. It is early days though - fingers crossed he makes a good recovery.

The first entry

Hello
I am Anna, a 32 year specialist nurse practitioner. I qualified as a nurse in 1995, as a product of "Project 2000" nurse training (Which was so wonderful that it was promply dropped when they realised that a student could be 18months into their training without having seen a single patient)

I am an avid reader of blogs - and always planned to do my own, so here I am.

Ten minutes into my nursing course, I realised that I wanted to do medicine. I can't put my finger on why I wanted to do this, it was just a strong feeling that came to me as soon as I began nurse training. At school, I was pretty ropey and excelled in drama and home economics - hardly an ideal route into medicine. No-one really aimed as high as medicine in my social group, and we weren't encouraged to look at this option.

Although I realised that i wanted to do medicine in 1995, it has taken me 11 years to get to the point that I am at today. Here I am after all this time with my degree in specialist nursing and three years of chemistry (A complete slog) behind me. I have an unconditional offer to go on a GEP in the Midlands. How fanstastic!

I am going to use this blog to explain the transition that I go through, from a nursing sister with ten years experience, through medical school. The course does not start until September, so I am going to use the remaining time to describe how I am going to get to medical school as a mature student!