Another Minor Excursion Off With The Fairies

Our stay in the Mount Hospital drew to a close after lunch on Friday. What a turnaround from last time, so we left with gratitude and gladness in our hearts. The Karri Ward nursing staff were  cheerful, considerate and attentive. They were also, for the most part, prompt to the patient bell. . I can't help feeling that a substantial reason for this change has been the recently appointed Director of Nursing, Bec Siebenhausen, who hails from Toowoomba Queensland. She visited Michael and me in our room the morning after his surgery and I was mightily impressed with her. Whilst oozing efficiency, she also displayed understanding and compassion. I think the Mount may well be on the road to better patient outcomes whilst she remains in her role. She is young, energetic, enthusiastic about her job and committed to improving the Mount Hospital's services and protocols. 

This change in the Mount was best illustrated by Michael's care, particularly after he began developing symptoms of Post Operative Delirium once more. He was confused and disoriented, describing his mind to his nurse as being a tad "wonky". We swung into action with two IV doses of Haloperidol, which calmed his mood and allowed him to escape the brain fog. Friday morning, he woke up sounding like himself again and the deep anxiety present in his eyes was gone. 

The development of a new health condition always delivers bewilderment and uncertainty. That Michael is prone to Post Operative Delirium means we now need to familiarise ourselves with new terminology, new symptoms and new pharmacological and non-pharmacological ways of dealing with this additional issue. These feelings were last evident when we discovered Alex had indeed suffered a stroke thirty years ago after cardiac surgery.

On his first night, sleep eluded him, so he was given a Diazepam to settle him. Unfortunately, Diazepam became his latest drug to cause an allergic reaction. As he was attached to a catheter, with a block between his legs, showering was impossible. Instead, he was given a dose of Phenergan and we soothed the itchiness with the application of  body wipes. Misery was his constant companion, his fingers blew up like sausages and the red welts continued up his arms to his shoulders. There was not a lot of sleep for either of us. 

Thankfully, a new drug regime was swiftly organised for him. He began using another derivative of morphine that  agreed with him and kept his pain in check. Thursday night, when given a familiar sleeping tablet, he was off to Cloud Cuckoo Land in no time. The antibiotic was only given twice through his IV and he had no problem with that drug whatsoever. I was asleep by seven thirty that last night and apart from waking for about an hour at ten o'clock and a couple of wee breaks and well spaced observations, we then both slept through until seven o'clock. What a difference a decent night made for both of us.

We waited for Michael's drugs to be delivered early afternoon. By that stage, we were packed up, showered and longing for home. Although this hospital stay was most satisfactory, Michael's real healing began once we were safely home in Station House, along with Piddling Pip, Miss Stella, Mister Chop and Red the rude parrot.

We returned home to them all in triumph. Till next time...

Last morning in hospital...

Bruising - day 2 post op...

Feeling pretty pleased with himself...

Just waiting on the drug delivery...

Dressed and impatient!

Bruising increased spectacularly for a couple more days.

A Surreally Positive Day

 After a pretty dreadful time in September at the Mount Hospital, I was cautiously pessimistic. During Michael's first hip replacement, we had endured some indifferent nursing, unpleasant drug reactions, unexpected drug allergy, hallucinations, agitation and confusion over the length of our stay. His agitation actually came to a head after we'd returned home on the fourth day, along with heightened irritability and short term memory loss. Until we changed his pain relief from Palexia to Temgesic, we had a pretty torrid time at home for another few days. This is when I began researching the condition called Post Operative Delirium, which apparently up to seventy percent of patients can experience after surgery, particularly those over sixty years of age. 

My research into Post Operative Delirium led me to understand that this had caused Michael's distress. Other risk factors include being male, diabetic, anaemic, having had surgery, severe pain and being fluid deprived in the lead up to surgery. Michael had hit the jackpot, but somehow, like Voldemort, its name was not to be uttered.

I was determined not to travel this journey again, so I wrote to the Director of Nursing and received an  apologetic response. The anaethetist replied to me through phone and e-mail, promising changes to Michael's drug regime. Plus, after some testy moments, I convinced the Pre Admissions nurse that I wasn't just a "rude and irate" wife and that my complaints had merit and deserved recognition and attention. And our surgeon,  Mister Ben Kimberley gave me his support as well. I dared hope that our next experience at the Mount might be an improvement.

This morning did not begin well. Sitting in reception from six-thirty, we were not seen until after seven for admission by Slavica, who was also oblivious to my boarding status. However, the situation improved when she rang the ward and I was reassured that Karri was expecting me. The newish young and very tall ward delivery clerk was doing his best but he had yet to learn the many nuances of the role that had been so eloquently carried out by the previous Concierge Paul. Plus, he took us into a shared room that had obviously not been cleaned and had to dash to the desk for clarification. Upon arrival in another shared room, the orderly immediately arrived to collect Michael for theatre. Rose, his nurse and I broke into a sprint to finish Michael's documentation, shave him, gown him and bed him ready for Pre-op. Communication regarding order of theatre and admissions had not improved.

We had never seen pre-op so busy. The place reminded me of an assembly line. All theatres were operational and patients were being shipped in and out at a rate of knots. Nurses Anna, Lisa and Tim were responsive, the anaethetist Julie discussed with surgeon Ben about Michael's cocktail of drugs and she efficiently inserted his canula. By eight thirty, Michael was in theatre and I prepared to set up the room with all our belongings for the next four days.

The morning actually passed with no drama. I went for breakfast at Jacob's Larder next door before bringing in more luggage. Slavica came to my rescue as I struggled in with pillows, blankets, computer bag and drinks cold bag and helped me up to the ward. She also asked if we'd like the newspaper every morning, which was most appreciated. Later, post-op nurse Amy rang to say Michael was delayed in Recovery due to sleepiness and actually came to the ward to tell me personally.  Morning nurse Rose was very approachable and helpful, along with Afternoon nurse Elsa and student Amy. In fact, Elsa and Amy came to our rescue after dinner when Michael desperately needed his linen changed. So far, so good. What a pleasant change.

The only obvious disappointment was the standard of cleaning. Again. I was mightily impressed with an additional "trouble shooter" on the ward, whose job on Karri was to smooth out any patient's conniptions. As she removed dust and dust from a corner of our room, she remarked that Management had retrenched thirty staff, the majority of them cleaners. Therefore, cleaning outcomes were not going to improve in a hurry...

Having had surgery in the morning, Michael is alert and has eaten and drunk with no problems. He has had his first dose of pain relief and is relatively free of discomfort. That is a huge relief. And he has been prescribed some additional drugs to assist if he develops Post Operative Dementia. I had a quick chat with Ben at the nurses' station and physiotherapist Barney has been for his preliminary appointment with Michael. Today, I feel heard and supported. 

Long may this turn of events continue.

My darling husband, masquerading as a shepherd or an angel...

With a dodgy right hand...

Enjoying his lunch...

Sweaty and a bit uncomfortable with a block between his legs!

His sense of humour returned!

Feeling fresh and clean...

Comfort...

With his blanket made by his Grandma Lawrence

With his brand spanking new DVD player.

'Twas The Night Before...

We are pleasantly surprised as we are sitting in the very comfortable Baileys Serviced Apartments in East Perth. Way back in 2012 (?), Michael had his first shoulder surgery under Mister Ben Kimberley. Unaware of boarding as an option (the Mount Hospital probably wishes I'd never found out), I had tried to find close accommodation to the hospital for overnight. As the same time as CHOGM (Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting) was being held in Perth. Accommodation was almost unobtainable. The Baileys Motel (a different premises) offered a room that I could afford. In hindsight, I wished I'd discovered a nice cozy manger. That night, seared into my memory, was spend tossing and turning in a hot, airless room on a bed, that I was convinced, was crawling with bedbugs.

This afternoon, as we approached that infamous motel, my heart sank into the bottom of my shoes. Fortunately, we drove on to a pretty schmick looking modern building, also called Baileys. But what a contrast. We entered through the front door as speaking into an intercom. Security was evident and efficient and the young lass on reception was behind a sturdy barrier. However, if I'd allowed my imagination to wander, I might have thought I was in Singapore or Hong Kong. One of the domestic assistants was using a short Asian-style brush to sweep the entry. In fact, I wondered if the staff were all from one extended family. 

One room is very comfortable indeed and has access to open air - quite a refreshing change from other establishments, including hospitals. I can hear birds outside - we are close to Wellington Square, which has been transformed from a dingy locality attracting undesirables to a vibrant and welcoming space for families. As I sip an exceedingly delicious glass of Semillon (no grass seeds in this vino), Michael is having a snooze. We intend to have an early dinner of left over risotto before an early night. For tomorrow marks Michael's second hip replacement surgery. 

If not for Ben Kimberley, there would be no way we would attend the Mount Hospital. I have bought and packed my own heat patches as I could not get a wheat pack heated for my lower back pain. I have brought extra blankets for both Michael and me, along with soapy steel wool pads to wash our cups and spoons and two tea towels. I have purchased a DVD player for him as the TVs are too far from the beds and the volume is insufficient for those a little hard of hearing. I have sorted our own soap, as the bathroom hand wash provided is unsatisfactory for Michael in the shower.  I already know I will have to hunt for less-than-threadbare towels from the linen trolley once we are on the ward. I have printed Michael's meds list and packed the RATs (Rapid Antigen Tests for Covid). I was highly amused that the information regarding negative RATs required from both of us was not sent to Michael's phone until this afternoon. We were already in Perth at that point, so I would have had to find a chemist and purchased more if I hadn't remembered the protocol. Does the hospital not take into consideration that country patients may need a little more notice for pre-operative requirements?

And so, in the morning, at the fabulous hour of six thirty, we will join the cattle call of morning surgery admissions at the Mount. I am hoping that the process is more streamlined than last time, when Michael's nurse was still recording his meds as I shaved his hip region and helped him perform a swift change into the theatre gown whilst the orderly was waiting to take him for his operation.

As ever, I shall scan the room for dust and soiled dressings. I have also packed his diet ginger beer which he loves to settle his tummy (unavailable at the private hospital) and his alkaline water, along with his coffee grinder, beans and plunger. With all our luggage in tow, we appear to be going on an expedition to the Dark Continent. 

I am unsure of my reaction if we are offered room 286/287 again. That could be my first test. I am hoping that all my feedback has been taken seriously by the Director of Nursing and we shall have a less stressful stay. Through my own endeavours, I discovered that we could obtain the equipment Michael requires through the Northam Hospital, which I have collected. Free for three months. Apparently, the Mount Hospital can write referrals for the equipment needs of country patients at a more accessible location. Another piece of information that they are either completely unaware or simply have failed to implement. 

And so, as I prepare for a possible war footing, wish us luck. I shall be relieved when Michael returns from theatre in one piece. I shall be even more relieved if he has no side effects post operatively. I shall be supremely relieved if he receives the care that he deserves.

Until tomorrow!

The countdown is on...

My natural tendency when in a hospital setting...

The only reason we are returning to the Mount - Mister Ben Kimberley...

And some consistency of care, without judgement...

Anatomy of a new hip...

Michael's usual demeanour in hospital...

Except when he is enjoying his food!

Kate Versus Goliath(s)...Again...And Other Random Adventures!

The last couple of weeks have been challenging, to say the least. 

And that doesn't even include the comings and goings in the East End Gallery. We have had yet another reshuffle of works with paintings being swapped over, refreshing the main Gallery. We are forever blessed by Shane Moad, Sharon Williams and John Kaye. Or added - heartfelt thanks to Marion Luck - artist extraordinaire at the Western end of Vincent Street. 

We have lost the wonderful textiles of Jo Nelson, as she has decided, before she becomes too decrepit, that she is going to hit the road for the Big Lap. With her textiles in tow to flog along the way. David Lillico, one of our glass artists routinely "borrows" his pieces once a year for the Darling Scarp Art and Craft Show. He then returns whatever is left and begins to produce his creations all over again!

I spent days and days (and a number of evenings) revamping the space for that additional zing. Michael, with John Kaye's help successfully navigated the ladder yesterday to hang Marion's paintings. No reports and no injuries.

At the moment, Michael and I are really a pair of crocks. My dodgy right knee is becoming dodgier by the day. I have resorted to the Big Guns of pain relief, which work well, except they cause restlessness at night and sleepiness during the day. I almost nodded off and dropped my phone, whilst being ripped, tinted, coloured and shorn by the fabulous Kerryanne yesterday morning.

Michael is waiting for his second hip replacement which is scheduled for next Wednesday. Now that he has a fabulous new right hip, he has recognised the discomfort of his left one. Plus, he has been diagnosed with very low iron, which caused extreme fatigue and lack of any enjoyment. He is finally feeling better, with the assistance of an iron infusion.

Three nights ago, at the astonishing hour of a quarter to ten, I underwent a MRI at the Midland public hospital. Apparently, quite a few radiology clinics are working into the evenings to reduce the waiting time for patients. I was done and dusted and back to the Travellers' Rest units where we spent overnight, rather than trying to drive home at eleven o'clock. Stella demanded a wee break at five in the morning, and I discovered, to my consternation, that dawn occurs around this time. The dogs performed their ablutions and I returned to our temporary boudoir to sleep soundly until nine thirty. After imitating the opening scenes of "Home Alone", when the families alarm didn't go off and they left without Kevin, we departed just after ten...

My latest communique with Telstra was via a pleasant chap, also named Kevin, who is one of only two technicians  in Western Australia (!) charged with surveying mobile and internet conductivity in a particular location. Sick of the spin sprouted by the upper echelons of Telstra, I explained that I was a grumpy sixty one year old woman with a sizable chip on my shoulder where Telstra was concerned. He was a pleasant chap, acknowledged my grievances without  immediately defending the mighty company and was fully aware of some of Beverley's communications issues. He is coming for a tete-a-tete on Monday morning to Review our Situation. Whether he can actually change our service for the better is a far more complicated narrative.

On Wednesday morning, I took the call from the Pre-admissions nurse as part of preparations for Michael's next surgery. Reciting his meds, operations, conditions, allergies and demeanour for the umpteenth time set my teeth on edge, particularly as this information was freely available through his notes and the letter I'd sent to the Director of Nursing. That we will, no doubt, have to go through this process next Wednesday morning would try the patience of a saint. And I am no saint. During the first half of our conversation, I must admit that I was a tad surly and she accused me of being "rude and irate". Following this accusation, I took a deep breath, apologised and explained all the back story (again) that caused me to become "rude and irate". To her credit, the nurse listened to my litany of previous complaints and we both softened our tones.  At the end of proceedings, she was aware of our past situations, I was the full bottle on pre-admission protocols including using body wash, lung exercises and selectively ceasing some meds (which was a vast improvement on no pre-admission information) and we parted amicably. Roll on Wednesday...

The weather continues to be bleak and blustery. We have enjoyed very little actual spring and I hope we are given a burst of gentler days before we blast off into the inevitable heat of summer. At least we hadn't had to water for a few days.

And now, I must wind up this post, engage my brain and launch forward into another day in the East End Gallery. 

Toodle-pip... !

How Michael and I are currently travelling...

My current approach towards life, the universe and everything...

TIME to get up!

Coping strategies...

One of the highlights of my week!

Here we go again...

Memories of last surgery...

The weather has also been a tad trying...

But then we have our fabulous Gallery...

Giftshop goodies...

Marion's additions to the main Gallery

Useful to remember...

And every day is a new day with no mistakes yet (courtesy of Anne of Green Gables, I think).

Thank God Thursday is "Telstra Day"!

Hello everybody! I am mightily relieved to be back online in the cyberspace universe. Mid morning Friday (two days ago), we lost all mobile, internet and Eftpos services in Beverley. With absolutely no warning. A few of us apparently received notification of an "upgrade" affecting Northam at the end of October. Northam is 68 kilometres north of us...

Anyway, we waited and waited and waited on Friday for our telecommunications to be restored....Around 3pm, I walked up to the Shire and asked them to send a complaint to our local member, Ms. Mia Davies' office. As the sun went down, pandemonium reigned at the pubs. Who carries cash anymore? 

We are continually advised to use the mobile and internet services. Which is great if that service is reliable. Except we do not have that certainty here in Beverley. We lose mobile signal on the edge of town, and if travelling to the Big Smoke, we do not get coverage again for 60 kilometres.

This situation is outrageous and all Telstra does, if I complain loudly enough, is to hand out credits. Amusingly, they sent my last credit to a deactivated card. If the Refunds division of Telstra had spoken to the Direct Debits section of Telstra, our new card details were available.

A Telstra phone booster (costing $1000) failed here. The customer was offered half the amount as a refund for their unit's non- functionality .In our Gallery, the NBN (National Broadband Network) was useless and we turned the system off after the signal continually dropped out. We would quite like to use Skype to talk to our granddaughter, but we have no guarantee the the signal would sustain a conversation.

We are not in a 3rd world country. We are a reasonably sized regional town a day trip from the Big Smoke. My boy, Alex and my beloved Michael both suffer from chronic health conditions. I need reliable and consistent mobile and internet service.

Here is a copy of the letter I have just sent to Ms. Vicki Brady, who is now CEO of Telstra. Her details are available on LinkedIn.

And aren't we lucky that every Thursday is apparently Telstra Day!

Good afternoon Ms. Brady.

 my name is Kate Sofoulis, and I live with my husband Michael in Beverley, which is 130 kilometres east of Perth. Beverley has a population of about 1000 in town and another 700 in the shire. We run an art gallery supporting local and emerging artists on Beverley's main street, Vincent Street. We are Telstra customers, having two mobiles (a Samsung S20 and an iPhone 13Pro), and a plan to cover our phones and laptop data and two Netgear hotspots . The NBN did not work in our situation and as we are pensioners, we can't afford the luxury of a landline. Two days ago, Beverley lost all mobile, internet and Eftpos services. There were no warning notifications to residents and business owners. As we are a tourism town, this outage, on a weekend with several events, has been very disruptive. We have lost sales in the Gallery and our local pubs have experienced extreme financial hardship, being unable to use their Eftpos terminals or receive bookings.  Our community markets and live concert were also affected by the loss of telecommunications. Beverley is not remote and we are barely regional. Yet we suffer from appalling service from Telstra - not enough signal in our tower, slow internet, mobiles dropping out in town centre. We had a previous outage earlier this year affecting mobile services. Telstra only notified Beverley of an issue with the tower when our local member was inundated with complaints. Personally, we have received less than optimal service. These issues include - 1. failing to close one account after opening a second account for Michael's iPhone 2. sending a refund to a debit card that had been deactivated when Telstra had details of our new card 3. using language that could have been considered aggressive after a direct debit failure. I have a 31 year old son with Autism and serious health conditions who lives in Perth. It is vital he can contact me at any time as I have his entire medical history in my head. My husband has chronic lung conditions, reflux, arthritis and PTSD. He has just had a hip replacement.  We rely on reliable mobile and internet services. When will Telstra cease to treat Beverley as second class citizens?