For Sherin And Tamina - Once Upon A Time In Heavenly Beverley...

We had the most terrific bunch of backpackers in the Gallery yesterday. They were all taking a holiday break from their jobs working towards their visas to continue their Australian adventures. Before boarding the bus for the Big Smoke, two of them, Tamina and Sherin lingered in the Gallery for quite some time. After introducing them to my Mob of Meerkats (actual collective noun), with much laughter, I realised I had never actually told the tale of how Heavenly Beverley became the baby Meerkat centre of the universe for two days back in September 2018...

One spring day just over six years ago, a couple of bright sparks went to the Perth Zoo for an outing. One of them, obviously an intellectual giant, apparently "fell in love" with a month old Meerkitten, scooped it out of the enclosure and popped him into a cooler bag. After stopping for a meal at a fast food outlet, our heroes hot-footed it to that well-known Meerkat sanctuary of Beverley, 130 kilometres east of Perth. Once back in the home of a third person, they believed the Meerkitten would be an excellent addition to the four dogs and a cat already living at the residence.

Two days later, the gig was up. Keeping a secret is rather difficult in Beverley. Local eyes and ears were instrumental in the discovery of a very large cannabis operation south of Beverley townsite, due to concern for animals on the property and a procession of water trucks coming and going. The Beverley Facebook page is an encyclopaedia of useful information, as well as locating lost pets, found pets and wandering pets. Having an unusual animal like a Meerkitten was never going to go unnoticed.

Six police officers were involved in an International Rescue-style operation to free the Perth Zoo Meerkitten. They proudly posed in a photograph on the WA Police Facebook page after the successful mission. Our Meerkitten was safely returned to the Meerkat Mummy and the rest of the Mob.

One aspect of this story did tickle my way-out sense of humour. The Meerkitten was supposedly being checked on an extremely frequent basis as he was to be unveiled in a ceremony the following day. There was apparently only a tiny window of non-supervision when the Meerkitten was nicked. Oops...

This was not the first time that there had been a fleeting second of lapsed attention at the Perth Zoo. Back in 2011, two endangered Madagascan radiated tortoises were pinched. One was left at a police station and the other discovered in a house being raided on another matter. This retrieval, which occurred just after our Meerkitten saga, probably left management with rather red faces. And perhaps a desire to upgrade some security measures. 

I do have some sympathy. Most of Perth Zoo's visitors would not dream of stealing one of the living exhibits. Spotting opportunistic dickheads is not the easiest of tasks. However, dear readers, be assured that occurrences like this will never fly beneath the radar of Heavenly Beverley's keen eyed residents...

And that's the end of the story.

PS This fantastic folly is why Beverley should be celebrated as the Wheatbelt Home of the Meerkats!

 

 

Not Meerkittens...but in Heavenly Beverley! 

Meerkats - but not in Heavenly Beverley!

 

 

A Meerkitten in Heavenly Beverley!

 

 

 

Another Beverley Heroic team!

 

 

 

Note the gloves...

 

 

 

Meanwhile in the East End Gallery - meet Roberto...

 

 

Mervyn and Mavis

 

 

Michael, Mummy and Chummy...

 

 

And our Meerkittens - Huey, Dewey and Louie!

 

 

 

Lexi Has A Knowlwdge Knob!

Lexi, our silvery Groodle has just had her summer shave for practicality and coolness. This was her second clip with Rochelle Prime, Dog Groomer to the Stars, so her transformation was not quite as dramatic as her first haircut in October. Lexi's previous outing to Spot-On canine beauty salon completely altered her appearance from hirsute Woolly Mammoth to slightly startled and skinny miniature Wolfhound. 

Last Friday, only thirty-six hours after we'd arrived home from hospital, Lexi, Stella and I set off for Rochelle's place. I was also taking Stella to get her nails cut and have a "dry" shampoo as our Staffy-Kelpie girl dislikes baths intensely. Curiously, along with her sister, Stella adores romping through both fresh water river pools and saltwater sea edges with gay abandon. Just don't show her a bath!

Lexi still is somewhat of a wriggler, particularly when she is having her feet trimmed. However, her pads seem to store an extraordinary amount of rubbish, such as burrs, seeds, dirt and general detritus. Rochelle took quite some time to clear out all these trapped items and then used clippers, mini clippers, scissors and mini scissors for the job. She also cleaned both the dogs' ears, eyes and their snouts. The results were frankly incredible.

One of Lexi's features that has always intrigued me is a sizeable lump on the very top of her head. Rochelle was able to enlighten me - Lexi has a Knowledge Knob, otherwise known as a Wisdom Lump.This feature is actually called an occiput and is a bona fide part of canine anatomy.  Unfortunately, those dogs who are lucky enough to possess a Knowledge Knob haven't worked out how to activate it as yet. Rochelle's two Dalmatians are pretty much identical in looks, except for one having a Knowledge Knob. The sad reality is that Rochelle's knobless dog is far smarter! I believe Lexi will continue as another Goofball who can't engage her own Knowledge Knob...

Which really doesn't matter one iota. Whilst we were marooned in Joondalup Hospital, we missed our all our pets so very much. No dog snuck into our bedroom to pinch the cat's biscuits when we weren't looking. No dog barked at the annoying gophers shooting past the front door. No cat glided noiselessly onto our bed to sleep at the top of Michael's head. And we didn't once hear "you're a shit" bellowed out at full throttle by Red, our Eastern King Parrot. 

Our first night home, there was the odd rolling thunder growling in the pre-dawn sky. Stella, who detests thunder more than baths was hyperventilating and scratching at the barricade at the entry of our bedroom. Hence we ended up with two dogs and a cat all on the bed with us.

Bloody marvellous!

 

 

Miss Woolly Mammoth...

 

 

 

First morning home in our bed...

 

 

Along with one Party Girl and one Nervous Nelly...

Mister Chop in his accustomed spot above Michael's head!

 

 

 

At the beginning...

 

 

Suffering through...

 

 

All Lexi's backside clipped...

 

 

On, the indignity!

 

 

 

 

Finished at last!

 

 

Safely back at home with Dad... 

All is well in our world!

 

 

The Bitch Is On The Run...

Sunday afternoon back in my beloved East End Gallery. A gloriously cool day with plenty of breeze to push any remnants of the latest heatwave out the doors. We won't get many days like this over the summer months, so I am enjoying every second. In my space.

The last two weeks seemed to have passed in a blur of pain and fever and breathlessness and fear. The ferocity of Michael's illness took us completely by surprise. How he went from being upright and full of life on the night of our Celebration to becoming very sick in less than 48 hours.

I knew he was in trouble when I discovered he was drenched in sweat on that Sunday evening. And for the next few days, his condition worsened. Then, there were the deliriums that came like a thief in the night and robbed his very essence. Waking in a very confused state on the most awful morning, he didn't know where he was, who I was and struggling to know who he was. 

Ten years ago, in the same place, and the same ward, Michael battled the Bitch, another pneumonia and lung abscess that nearly killed him.  This incarnation was another Bitch, and although only spectacularly brutal and destructive for a shorter time, still left her mark on us. 

A exceedingly sneaky bug, going by the name of Human Metapneumovirus (hMPV), was able to breach our defenses and into our home. I believe I picked up the virus at Midland Gate shopping centre, developing a secondary chest infection a couple of days later. I had an incredibly painful cough but began to improve after a couple of days on oral antibiotics. Even so, I needed a second course whilst Michael was in hospital and I still have a whisper of a chest that feels slightly off.

Michael, who has a very high pain tolerance, was just felled by the Bitch. The bouts of coughing exhausted him, the endless muck in his chest made him nauseated all the time, his rubs hurt like he'd been hit by a battering ram and the continuing breathlessness scared the shit out of him. 

Initially, we thought he would only be in hospital for about five days, but when the first choice of IV antibiotics failed to deliver any relief, he was placed on an eight hourly regime of much stronger drugs.Saline nebulisers were added to loosen the sticky phlegm in his chest, regular paracetamol for pain and melatonin to help him sleep. Haloperidol, given orally (rather than by IV as I requested) did not stop the deliriums. I dreaded each night.

Being in hospital for more than a few days is an exceedingly weird experience. Initially, we were happy to be interrupted by staff checking on Michael, but the novelty did wear off. Particularly when the nursing staff did not respond to his bell in a timely manner or let his IV alarm go on for up to ten minutes. So every eight hours, we were disturbed by the alarm of the antibiotic finishing, followed by the alarm ringing again after the saline flush was administered.

I discovered he was being paracetamol every six hours, instead of every four hours. This delay in controlling his temperature spikes allowed the Bitch to soar to new heights, leading him to vivid hallucinations that terrified us both.

We were given a huge boost last Monday. His IV antibiotics were ceased and he was no longer needing supplemental oxygen. His oxygen saturation levels stabilised, his temperature normalised and the horrible coughing had begun to ease. Suddenly, home was a viable option.

On Tuesday afternoon, we were checked by the OT to make sure we were compos mentis enough to head for the hills. She was happy to release us, Scott was happy to send us away with a pile of antibiotics and we were ecstatic. We made our escape on Wednesday, stopping for a few errands on the way home, before arriving back at Station House on a baking afternoon. 

Michael, as ever, tried to minimise the reality he had just been released from hospital. He insisted on helping me in with some of our gear, promptly felt terrible and retired to bed. Over the last few days, I have been using my usual tactics of being as subtle as a sledgehammer to continue his recovery. He is now sleeping more - not all the time- on raised pillows, is not objecting when I order him to use his Ventolin, take his antibiotics or go for a rest. 

The Bitch is retreating slowly. Michael's return to full health may take the rest of December, perhaps longer. In the meantime, he is willingly back using nicotine patches to control his cravings. His appetite has gone from zero to acceptable and I am trying to serve him his favourite foods. He is not yet capable of any task apart from playing on his phone, reading the paper or watching TV. 

This morning, I was delighted when Michael sat on our front garden bench whilst I watered our jungle of pots. He even ventured up to Jodie's emporium for a chat, and then with James who wandered past with his Huntaway, Rosie. That was enough for him.

This encounter with hMPV and the secondary bacterial pneumonia has taught us a valuable lesson. Michael has often regaled that he has no fear of death. This hospital stay has shown him in very graphic detail that the path to death may be confronting and horrible and painful. 

For the very first time, I am seeing him taking more control of his health. I am so bloody relieved. I guess I do have to thank the Bitch for that...

 

 

At our Celebration, two days before Michael was admitted to hospital...

 

 

The virus responsible for Michael's miserable ten days...

 

 

 

 

 

Fours days in, holding his new Christmas shirt...

 

 

 

Chest physio!

 

 

 

More chest physio!

 

 

We are out of there!

 

 

 

There is no better aid to recovery than our own bed with no disruption!

 

 

Throwing in a couple of fatheads...

 

And of course, his Majesty, Mister Chop!
 

 

 

 

It's A Mad Mad Mad Mad World (Again!)...

We are Day 9 into our stay in Room 24 on H4 at Joondalup Health Campus.As far as we are concerned, this is going to be our last day in this not-terribly-fun establishment. As a keen observer of all that is nonsensical in this world, I have come to the conclusion that not all in well in the State of Denmark, sorry, Joondalup Private Hospital...

Let me explain...

We have private health insurance so we have the doctor of our choice in a hospital of our choice. The doctor part is working quite well. We have been confident in the skills and care of Doctor Scott Claxton, our respiratory specialist from past experience. Over the last ten days, we have come to appreciate him even more. He is intelligent and compassionate with a keen sense of humour, a thorough comprehension of how the health system works, offers explanation of jargon and gobbledegook, and is utterly focused on the best outcomes for his patients.

Now to my report card on a few private hospitals we know well. Ten years ago, we gave Joondalup Private Hospital and H4 glowing recommendations. We also gave Hollywood Private Hospital a high satisfaction rating during a similar time-frame. The Mount Hospital, given its age and its famous sauna room, still used to receive a solid 7 out of 10 during our early incarcerations. 

Not any more...

The common denominator of these hospitals? They are all businesses, listed on the ASX, all for-profit organisations, all looking to maximise the returns to their shareholders. Joondalup and Hollywood are part of Ramsay Healthcare. The Mount, a Healthscope hospital, is owned by Brookfield, a giant Canadian conglomerate. All this money going in, profits being the bottom line and rewards to their shareholders means the standard of care in these hospitals has dramatically slipped. 

Back in 2019, a private room in a private hospital in Australia was around $700 per day for the initial 14 days. I have a hazy recollection of my stay in Hollywood Private Hospital in January 2022 being rather a lot more per day than that.

Our private health insurance costs us around $5200 a yer. We pay $250 excess upfront if we come to hospital as a co-payment, but only once per year per person.We pay private health insurance willingly, expecting excellent nursing care, nutritious and tasty meal options and comfortable rooms. With quality pillows, especially when sleeping or if confined to bed for days.

Let me dispel that first belief. The pillows are shit. My neck is chronically painful from dodgy pillows throughout me boarding with Michael, which of course is paid for by our health fund.

The airconditioning is centralised and cannot be adjusted for individual needs. Hence, we have either been stifling or freezing.For whatever reason, both Hollywood and Joondalup have dispensed with the warm cotton blankets, replacing them with inadequate thin and synthetic covers - probably easier and cheaper to wash... 

The food is haphazard in its quality. Forget about hot toast for breakfast - cold as charity and stiff as a board. The majority of lunch and dinner options are fairly bland and always require seasoning. Chicken breast, disguised as roast chicken was tough and dry. Salad has been a tad limp on occasion and sometimes had added unexpected crunch, which Michael dislikes intensely (not being rinsed well enough?) The majority of the meals have been edible but not would I would consider really appealing.

There is no fridge in the patients' and visitors' kitchens, which means my lactose free milk and Michael's sugar free lemonade has to go to the staff pantry's fridge. Patients and visitors are not allowed to enter (!) so  I have often flouted this rule on numerous occasions as the nurses should be carrying out more important tasks than delivering drinks.

Which brings me to my next point. H4 at Joondalup Private Hospital is seriously understaffed with nurses. So bells go unanswered, drugs are late or forgotten, alarms drive us to distraction for minutes on end and the ward routines are not necessarily patient friendly. 

I believe these nurse shortages contributed to Michael's repeated temperature spikes, which in turn, caused his deliriums.The delivery of paracetamol  to him to control these symptoms was frequently too slow or missed. Even though I was boarding with him, there were nights that I was so exhausted that I didn't wake up. One night he went wandering around the ward. Twice, he tore out his cannulas, the second time due to a continual alarm that fostered his belief that by removing his cannula the noise would cease...

Last  Saturday, I had had enough. We were moved to a room adjoining another room containing an elderly lady with COVID. Due to her repeated efforts to leave her room, a carer had been attached outside her door, twenty-four hours a day. We were able to take advantage of this situation, allowing me access to an additional person right there.

This little lady obviously has dementia. Having been confined to quarters for the duration of her stay, this morning, pending discharge, she was told to wait on a chair outside her room to be picked up. From 9 o'clock. From isolated (for her own and everybody's else's safety) to literally being left totally on her own, on a chair in a corridor. Where was the duty of care? In my opinion, this illustrated the pure insanity that occurs through staff shortages.

Michael has improved really rapidly over the last couple of days. His cough still sneaks up on him with ferocious intensity, but these bouts are becoming less frequent. He is no longer on oxygen therapy and has good oxygen saturation levels in air. He has had the final cannula removed and is on all oral meds.He is tolerating his CPAP machine well again and his nightly antics do not include delusions anymore.

We had agreed on Thursday for delivery of our get-out-of-jail-free card to return home. We miss our animals horribly and are becoming increasingly concerned about the heat affecting our garden. Sue, our resident fairy godmother, has been juggling looking after the dogs, cat and parrot, the watering and the Gallery in our absence. We were going to hang out for another two days here but circumstances have reared an ugly head and we now wish to get out of this place tomorrow...

Yesterday afternoon, my son Cal rang to inform us that Bronwyn had tested positive to COVID. I had seen her on both Saturday and Sunday, so this was rather disturbing news. Thinking I was taking the right course of action, I informed our nurses. This began a chain of events that in some ways are understandable and in other ways, beggar belief.

Michael and I both tested negative yesterday afternoon and I have tested negative again this morning.That has not stopped certain practices that are baffling to us. First of all, all his drugs were removed from the Locked Cupboard in his room to Elsewhere. The reason given? To reduce the nurses' exposure to us delivering his meds in his room. I would suggest that action is not entirely logical. If his meds had also been exposed to COVID, surely taking them away could expose other nurses...As a result, we don't have a clue where his drugs are being kept, including some that I have bought externally. Do we have any recourse if his meds go AWOL or are not all returned when we leave...

Today, morning tea has been strangely absent. Our room bin now resides directly next to the door, rather than in the bathroom for our convenience. A noisy air filter has been added to the room. And I am still COVID negative.

In the outside world, COVID awareness has been significantly reduced. I think the general population now regards COVID as an inconvenient disease rather like influenza. The view inside Joondalup Health Campus is vastly different. I don't disagree with their caution - I just think that some of the practices in response to me being a close contact, but actually COVID negative, are arbitrary and without clear reasoning.

Hence, I have formulated my Action Plan. We are going home tomorrow, I shall ask Scott later today to write up any prescriptions we may require to continue Michael's recovery and perhaps some anti-virals thrown into the mix, just in case. He has done his job splendidly.

We were content to wait until we felt Michael was well enough to return to Heavenly Beverley. That time has come. And I also believe his recovery will accelerate once we are back in our own familiar surroundings,

A final word. I would urge companies like Ramsay and Healthscope (Brookfield) to divert some of their profits back into their hospitals to benefit those who pay to come - the patients. We, the private patients pay insurance in order to obtain a better quality of care. Just having the doctor of choice is no longer the carrot it used to be, We need hospital experience that doesn't leave us frustrated, bewildered, tired and uncomfortable...Ramsay and Healthscope must spend money on increased and supported staffing, patient meals that aren't cold, bland or overcooked, and updated rooms (including pillows!) to make hospital stays as bearable as possible.They need to remember nobody wants to be in hospital so exceptional care, along with exceptional comfort. Lumpy pillows, squeaking beds, thin covers and substandard linen will not attract more private patients.

Private health insurance uptake, already slowing due to rising premiums, will continue to slid, if  private hospitals are not not providing a superior alternative to public hospitals.

 Joondalup Private Hospital room ( not a recent photo)...

Not quite how I remember my room in Hollywood Hospital!

 

 

I think that is a bit fanciful...

 

 

 

For whom?

 

 Fact or fiction?

 

 

 

Food was rather patchy, particularly breakfasts...

 

Nobody likes hospitals!

 

Hospital pillows in private hospitals are not up to a quality standard,,,

 

 

We all need to vent spleen about conditions in private hospitals so that patients get...

 

Showers Easing With Increasing Sunshine...

Day 7 in Joondalup Private Hospital. We are now resident in Room 24. This move was the culmination of a minor meltdown caused by a lack of sleep, Michael's illness and an overriding concern about his nightly deliriums. I felt that his spiking temperatures and possibly pain were the cause of his hallucinations and that his Panadol regime was not sufficient enough to control his fevers. 

Feeling quite alone and in fear of what the following nights might bring, I jumped at the possible suggestion of a carer to watch over him. I could go to Callum and Bronwyn's house to luxuriate in  unbroken sleep and Michael would be safe from his delirium...

Yesterday was further complicated when I agreed to meet Alex and his new support worker at Lakeside for lunch, prior to heading to Banksia Grove. Having packed my toothbrush and a pair of knickers, I wandered up to the front desk to enquire about a carer coming in for that evening.

My query was met with a blank glance, following by an explanation of protocols. An assessment and interview had occurred the previous afternoon with an OT and of course, Michael had been coherent and compliant. On the basis of that test, Michael would not be eligible for a carer.

This conversation was not carried out with any unpleasantness. However, in my state of high stress, I burst into tears and returned to Room 17, with no confidence of a good night's sleep anytime soon or somebody else to watch over Michael.

The lovely nurse co-coordinator Diana followed shortly afterwards and assured me she was doing everything in her power to assist us. She encouraged me to meet Alex for lunch and then go on to Cal's home afterwards. She was hoping to move Michael to Room 24, which had more room for us and we could also have the attentiveness of the carer supporting the patient in the adjacent room. Finally, I felt confident enough to leave Michael.

I had the usual fabulous lunch with Alex, met Peter, his new support worker who hailed from Bhutan and had a chat with my wonderful friend Ailsa, who is a nurse, an independent support worker and very wise to the systems of both hospital and disability sectors.  

At three thirty, I arrived in Banksia Grove. I was revived by a seriously delicious cup of tea, help with my dirty washing, entertaining Miss Violet whilst Cal and Bron were up to their eyeballs with party preparations for Miss Imogen. I was able to engage in an outpouring of all the angst that I had been trying to keep under control. Encouraged by Ailsa, I also sent a message to our doctor explaining what had happened.

In my absence, Michael and all our worldly possessions were moved from one side of H4 to the other. Plus the presence of a carer just out the door. I rang Michael before dinner and asked him whether he was still comfortable with my sleepover at the kids. He was utterly miserable, his chest hurt horribly and he wanted me to return. 

So, I had the most delicious dinner, was able to play with my divine granddaughters, had two glasses of wine, had our dirty clothes washed and dried and had a truly relaxing and delightful afternoon and evening with my beautiful daughter-in-law and that awesomely loving son of mine.

Heading back to Room 24, the change was palpable. The room felt welcoming, I had the reassurance of the carer, and Savannah, the night nurse co-coordinator was absolutely outstanding in her support of us. Liquid panandol was easier for Michael to swallow, anti-inflammatory medication was added for additional pain relief, she arrived swiftly when we rang the bell and made herself available to discuss our situation and any concerns I had. We also discovered a mutual love of dogs...

I couldn't believe the positive difference seven hours of sleep made to my well-being. Michael only woke once, he had no delirium, all his needs were met and we didn't surface until breakfast time. The grip of constant nausea began to ease, he was considerably brighter and for the first time in days, he smiled. He knew who he was, where he was and who I was. Life was suddenly better once more.

I drove away to Immy's birthday party in a fabulous park with multiple playgrounds, fifteen minutes away from the hospital. Cal had secured a large gazebo for us just next to one of the big play structures in the shade. Immy's party was a rip-roaring success. Violet stole the show by plonking herself down in the circle during pass-the-parcel, determined to be part of the action. Food and drinks were enjoyed with total gusto. All the grandparents and one great grandparent were thrilled to participate. What a glorious morning.

Cal and Bron prepared a party food container and a party bag of goodies for Michael, so he wouldn't miss out. He was delighted to have been included. An added bonus was the party blower and bubble blower, which allowed him to practise chest physio whilst having fun.

Exhaustion hit me again and I curled up on my sofa bed. I was sound asleep when Scott Claxton arrived to see Michael and was thoroughly amused that the pile of blankets had me underneath. After waking up properly,  I took Michael out for a walk in the fresh air before dinner. Bliss for him and pushing the wheelchair certainly gave me a decent blast of aerobic exercise as well. We intend to go outside again tomorrow.

He is smiling and his recovery continues. All is well in our world.

 

 

Callum in his element running pass-the-parcel...

 

 

 

Great fun and no tears!

 

 

 

Bronwyn, Callum and Michelle, Bron's Mum... 

 

 

Cal's Dad Ernie, wife Helen and Ivy, Immy's great grandmother...

 

 

 

Blowing bubbles...

 

 

Expert at a party blower!

 

 

 

A boy with his toys. Smiling.