On arriving at the Royal London Hospital I was operated on for the removal of a subdural hematoma. I was sedated using among other things morphine. On regaining consciousness after what was a two hour operation I found myself in the Recovery Room. What followed was most disturbing to me but apparently quite within the bounds of what doctors and nurses see in such circumstances. Perhaps what you will now read of are the desperate attempts of a disturbed mind trying to make sense (and a story) of what seemed to be confusion. I think that perhaps what I call "a need for narrative" is something God has put in us. I give you my permission to smile at what follows even though it is in some ways serious.
The doctor in the Recovery room asked me various questions to assess how well orientated I was. However, I had no idea that I had been to the GP, my local A&E or was at the Royal London. I had some idea that the questions asked were to get me to submit to a lobotomy or some such procedure (about 20 years ago I saw a film called One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest which may have contributed to my fears and irrationality). For this reason I was determined not to say the word "Yes" to any question at all lest it be taken as consent. My chief fear that I wasn't in a hospital at all was heightened by reading the badge on the nurse which among other things had the words "Nurse Bank". I also saw various laminated notices which I took to be lame attempts to disguise the fact that the buildings were not hospital buildings. Then I was told that the doctor wanted me to go down for a CT scan - but I had noted on the wall, signs for "Charrington Ward" and "Turner Ward" sign. I concluded that they had simply grabbed at the words Charrington and Turner and then made up the term CT (scan which strangely I knew to be an investigative procedure). Others tried to convince me to get into the lift but I simply sat up on the bed with feet overhanging the side so I couldn't be got into it.
Eventually I was told that my family was downstairs but as I doubted this I asked "which one" (not wanting to give away any information which they could use to later convince me). I got off the bed and tried to go walkabout (which worried the doctor as I was gowned and had various tubes and bags attached). I doubted whether these were necessary and wondered about taking them off. One of the security staff had been called to assist but as there was nothing he could do he withdrew. Then the doctor said he would go off to get my wife. I doubted this and as he left I told the nurse that he wouldn't be back as my wife wasn't here. But the doctor did return and I saw Pauline through the windows of a room or passage I had gone into. I wondered whether it was possible for some computer generated image of her to be projected onto the window but before that thought could go any further she came through the door.
This was the first encouragement since the operation had ended. I went towards her and hugged her and said "I can trust you. We are married and the Lord has made us one" and (don't tell Richard Dawkins) I sniffed her neck just to make sure. The nurse carrying my tubes and drips etc was of course in close by during all this. It was from this profound moment of reassurance that things began to go right. Although I was still nervous and looked around at sounds of closing doors or people behind us I was more trusting because she was with me. I told Pauline that I remembered the promises she had made to me (almost 20 years earlier) and this is why I co-operated. I think I needed somebody to trust somebody who I knew wouldn't deceive me. I was led not to the CT scan but the doctor thought it best to go straight to the ward. Even at the point of going into the ward I stopped and asked her "When I go into that ward will you still be my next of kin" (by which I meant will I be "sectioned" and she no longer have power to look after my interests/treatment). After her answer I was led to my bed.
You may ask how I remember so much (and more) although I was so deranged and recovering from sedation. Well pretty immediately afterwards I recounted these things to Pauline and several of the matters (though not all) were subsequently confirmed.
I am glad to have finished with writing up this episode as it means I can now go on to speak of the Lord's goodness to me as I spent the next six days in hospital. I trust you will be encouraged if you have not already been put off from reading this.
The doctor in the Recovery room asked me various questions to assess how well orientated I was. However, I had no idea that I had been to the GP, my local A&E or was at the Royal London. I had some idea that the questions asked were to get me to submit to a lobotomy or some such procedure (about 20 years ago I saw a film called One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest which may have contributed to my fears and irrationality). For this reason I was determined not to say the word "Yes" to any question at all lest it be taken as consent. My chief fear that I wasn't in a hospital at all was heightened by reading the badge on the nurse which among other things had the words "Nurse Bank". I also saw various laminated notices which I took to be lame attempts to disguise the fact that the buildings were not hospital buildings. Then I was told that the doctor wanted me to go down for a CT scan - but I had noted on the wall, signs for "Charrington Ward" and "Turner Ward" sign. I concluded that they had simply grabbed at the words Charrington and Turner and then made up the term CT (scan which strangely I knew to be an investigative procedure). Others tried to convince me to get into the lift but I simply sat up on the bed with feet overhanging the side so I couldn't be got into it.
Eventually I was told that my family was downstairs but as I doubted this I asked "which one" (not wanting to give away any information which they could use to later convince me). I got off the bed and tried to go walkabout (which worried the doctor as I was gowned and had various tubes and bags attached). I doubted whether these were necessary and wondered about taking them off. One of the security staff had been called to assist but as there was nothing he could do he withdrew. Then the doctor said he would go off to get my wife. I doubted this and as he left I told the nurse that he wouldn't be back as my wife wasn't here. But the doctor did return and I saw Pauline through the windows of a room or passage I had gone into. I wondered whether it was possible for some computer generated image of her to be projected onto the window but before that thought could go any further she came through the door.
This was the first encouragement since the operation had ended. I went towards her and hugged her and said "I can trust you. We are married and the Lord has made us one" and (don't tell Richard Dawkins) I sniffed her neck just to make sure. The nurse carrying my tubes and drips etc was of course in close by during all this. It was from this profound moment of reassurance that things began to go right. Although I was still nervous and looked around at sounds of closing doors or people behind us I was more trusting because she was with me. I told Pauline that I remembered the promises she had made to me (almost 20 years earlier) and this is why I co-operated. I think I needed somebody to trust somebody who I knew wouldn't deceive me. I was led not to the CT scan but the doctor thought it best to go straight to the ward. Even at the point of going into the ward I stopped and asked her "When I go into that ward will you still be my next of kin" (by which I meant will I be "sectioned" and she no longer have power to look after my interests/treatment). After her answer I was led to my bed.
You may ask how I remember so much (and more) although I was so deranged and recovering from sedation. Well pretty immediately afterwards I recounted these things to Pauline and several of the matters (though not all) were subsequently confirmed.
I am glad to have finished with writing up this episode as it means I can now go on to speak of the Lord's goodness to me as I spent the next six days in hospital. I trust you will be encouraged if you have not already been put off from reading this.
1 comment:
That's one of the most incredible narratives I've read in a long time! As medics (working, among other places, at the London) we spend a great deal of time dealing with patients in "acute confusional states" such as the one you describe - but I've never before heard it so coherently and terrifyingly described from "the other side"... A fascinating and useful insight!!
May God continue to bless you and the family in your recovery, Ferris.
Blessings,
Abigail (Randall, nee Dixon)
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