My last day in hospital. I’m writing this from the discharge lounge, or rather from the sunny courtyardÂ attached to it. – it is the most beautiful early summerâ€™s day. I’m fully dressed and equipped with my marvellous pulpit frame,Â ready to go home but have been told I might be here for some hours awaiting transport (I just hope they don’t forget to give me lunch). I spent the morning working on my laptop although I found it hard to see the screen out in the sunshine. In the event, my stay was only slightly marred by a wait of 6 1/2 hours to be transported home by ambulance. I was horrified to learn from the paramedic that the hospital is considering privatising this transport system as they are losing something in the region of Â£300,000 by the year on it. This would probably mean that theseÂ paramedicsÂ would be made redundant and some, but perhaps not all,Â might be offered jobs with the private company taking this service over. I cannot see how a private company could provide the same level of service and make a profit. I believe this to be a real retrograde step as I have the highest regard for the paramedics who are currently running this service, who have been responsible for running me backwards and forwards running me from home to hospital.
I’ve been in this hospitalÂ for nine days and I leave with the greatest admiration for theÂ very high standard of care provided.
As I have said earlier, in this blog, the dignity,Â sensitivity and caring demonstrated by the nursing staff, at all levels, is exemplary, bearing in mind that they are dealing with elderly gentleman, many of whom are in various stages of dementia with associated problems such as incontinence. Quite clearly not every NHS hospital has this extremely high standard otherwise there would be no grounds at all for complaint.
When I left my ward I told all the lovely people, on duty at the time, that I hoped that would I never see them again – I’m sure they understood what I meant by that. Rather like the dentist, a great man but I’d rather not see him professionally, that is. However, if I should ever be unfortunate enough to have to be admitted to hospital again then I would always choose to come back to Addenbrookes
I would love to mention all of the caring staff who looked after me by name but to do so would be invidious, particularly, as I’m bound to forget, or indeed never have known, Â the name of one or two of them.. So a global thank you for the wonderful care. they administered to me.
As a relatively healthy observer I had an excellent overview of degree of involvement and caring given by carers of loved ones in various stages of dementia. These carers, who I often saw visiting patients, are truly heroes and heroines. Giants of industry and the academia, are reduced, in their latter years, to sadly confused human beings, which, at times, can be very undignified, hopefully more for the carer then the cared for
I suppose the only small blot on this otherwise immaculate canvas is that the chief executive, Gareth Goodier, failed either toÂ acknowledge, or respond, to my e-mail. (I did check out with his PA and after extensive searches it seems that he neverÂ received it.). Such a pity as it takes such a little time to respond and certainly does wonders for the hospitalâ€™s PR.
Enough of hospitals. I shall close this chapter and await my ambulance to start my new life at home with a variety of equipment.
The good Dr Long (Michael) arrives this Â evening in time for â€˜my lovelyâ€™sâ€™ birthday tomorrow, when my darling daughter Chloe, will also be with us for the day. SoÂ much to look forward to. The champagne will shortly report on the ice.