Heavenly Beverley : With My Tongue Firmly In My Cheek...

As most of us will attest, 2020 has been a memorable year thus far. Bushfires, floods, Coronavirus, lockdown, stupidity unmasked and inspired leadership - these circumstances have brought out the best and the worst in us all. My personal "Year of Wonders" continues to astound, annoy and amuse me.

Take my birthday this year, for example. All was running smoothly for a family get-together, a birthday dinner and a chance to have most of my children with me in Heavenly Beverley, including Miss Imogen Ivy, the grandbaby responsible for my descent into continuing inanity.

All those careful plans of Mice and Men were thwarted on Wednesday. A supposedly routine x-ray of Michael's arm revealed an utterly unexpected and concerning outcome. Finally, all those four weeks of pain had a cause. Michael's ulna had split at the base of the plate after the bone had been shortened. Not only was my birthday thrown into disarray, but our postponed Northern Jaunt was once more on the chopping block.

Worse still, we would have to return to the Mount Hospital, scene of not an entirely satisfactory stay a month previously. In anticipation of my boarding, I rang the hospital on Thursday morning. I was immediately transferred to Bed Allocation and any concerns I had vanished into the ether with confirmation Michael and I would have a shared room at our disposal for the duration.

First possible snag resolved with no reports or injuries. Friday's admission was routine - slow and boring before transferring to the room on Karri Ward. We were ushered into a clean and spacious room, much improved on our last experience. There were tissues on each of the bedside tables. An extra chair for our use. Soap in the bathroom. Day nurse Tina began admission procedures and we were almost immediately visited by Evelyn, who I believed was the new Director of Nursing. We were assured that positive changes to the Mount were afoot. We were given the opportunity for our feedback on the improved state of the room. All our needs and requests would be promptly resolved.

Once I had lowered my eyebrows from having shot up under my hairline, I began a personal inspection. The room had been comprehensively scrubbed. There was not a skerrick of dust anywhere. The artwork was pleasant. The bathroom had a newer showerhead. A shower chair was insitu. I began to suspect this room would be primarily used for those having hip replacements, thus the extra space and facilities.

However, other issues were still a problem. In all the rooms we have stayed, not one of the toilet seats would remain upright under its own volition. There were no towels in the bathroom, so I whizzed off to the linen cupboard to collect some. The airconditioning was too cold. For the second time in a row, a COVID 19 checklist was nowhere to be seen as we were due to head to theatre. There was confusion about Michael's wearing of stockings. Or not. Pre-op did not have the amusing Eric insitu, so we endured a half-hour wait in the cold and austere setting. However, Michael was provided with a heated blanket that was most gratefully accepted.

The Mount Patient Finder was a great tool to track Michael's progress through theatre and into recovery, however, some carers might be put off by the need for an admission number to begin the process. To the IT department, being able to enter a surname would be preferable in this instance.

By the time Michael returned to the ward, his dinner had been waiting for nearly an hour. Another hour passed before he was able to eat. There was still no microwave in the Patients' Pantry and I had no idea whether staff could access a microwave as this option was never discussed. Thus, Michael, who was starving, was fed by me lukewarm roast pork, veggies and cauliflower soup.

Postoperatively in hospital resembles a mishmash of both extremely close and frustratingly lagging attention. Michael's observations and drugs were all dealt with in a timely fashion. However, there were other less than ideal situations, such as having to find his nurse after two attempts to source pain relief or having a drip infusion alarm beep for well over twenty minutes before we were rescued. The piece de resistance was Michael being handed a pill to swallow after it had been on the floor. We were initially too stunned to react and only afterwards did we ponder what had happened. In my opinion, that action was not satisfactory.

We were slightly overwhelmed by some of the attention. I was asked whether I would like green tea after my supply of teabags was spotted. In a later search, I discovered no green tea in the pantry, so that would presumably have had to be ordered from the kitchen. Michael's drip line was removed early in the morning routine - a task we have always had to request. We were not hurried out of his room and actually stayed until after lunch, so we could enjoy a hot meal before we headed for home. All firsts.

I wish I had thought to check some of the other rooms for tissues and soap. I was embarrassingly aware that our stay had been prepared in advance to our arrival to give a good impression. That the wards were cold and nothing had been done to try and alter the temperature was illustrated by an elderly chap dressed in flannelette pyjamas, a dressing gown and a woollen beanie. I have never been cold in hospital rooms such as Hollywood and Joondalup Private.

Not that we aren't grateful We are so thankful for an improved hospital experience at the Mount after some pretty ordinary stays. However, I hope that our stay becomes standard practice for all rooms in all wards. Everybody has the right to be as comfortable as possible and their needs met whilst at the Mount.

For those of you who wish to lodge comments about the Mount Hospital, I can only suggest being very specific. My observations of the lack of tissues and soap and proper cleaning of the room were seemingly easy to resolve. Certainly, most aspects of Michael's care was significantly improved. We hope that further admissions have similar outcomes.

I wait with bated breath for the promised renovations. The lull in elective surgery over the Christmas and New Year seems a perfect opportunity to work efficiently and speedily on refurbishments.

In the meantime, I can't help an element of cynicism being attached to my thoughts about our latest hospital stay. Hospitals can't be easy establishments to manage, however, if the executive teams become more proactive, I am convinced that these and other issues could be minimised or even cease altogether.

And now, we hope for Michael's uneventful and speedy recovery.