DIY Healthcare
I read an article yesterday about a patient in Limerick Regional Hospital.
Apparently this patient was being wheeled down to the operating theatre, and the nurses and anaesthetist were discussing the impending operation. The patient had to butt into their conversation to point out that their information was wrong, and that the problem was on the patientâs right side and not the left. If the patient hadnât butted in, the operation would have been carried out on the wrong side.
You may think this is unusual, but it ainât.
A while ago, Herself had to have âa procedureâ in hospital. I was there when they came to wheel her down. A nurse and a doctor came breezing into the room and announced cheerfully âso you are the gall-bladder patientâ. She said she wasnât and it transpired that her notes had become confused with someone else’s. If they had wheeled her off without saying anything, presumably she would now be somewhat lacking in the gall-bladder department.
Some years ago, I had a fall. Well, thatâs what I tell people. Actually, it was a lucky swipe of the frying pan, but Iâm not holding that against Herself. Allâs fair in love and war, as they say. It happened on Christmas Day, and I therefore waited until the following day to trolley myself down to the local A&E.
They prodded me and poked me and eventually took an x-ray. It was fucking painful, I can tell you. They examined the x-rays very carefully and said I was just bruised and sent me home.
I couldnât sleep for a couple of nights with the pain, and my waking hours were no better. It was fucking agony.
I know a bruise when I have one, and I knew this was no fucking bruise, so after a few days, I went to my local doctor. He asked for the x-rays, so I collected them and showed him.
He took one very brief look at the x-rays and announced that I had three broken ribs.
So the moral of the story is this.
If you feel you have a need for a hospital visit, DONâT GO.
Stay at home and do the operation yourself.
Itâs not that hard. Most homes have more that the required equipment. All you need is a kitchen table, a few sharp knives and maybe a pruning saw or electric drill. If you donât feel up to doing the operation yourself, ask a friend or a neighbour to do it.
Believe you me, it will be a lot safer and healthier.
And of course if you avoid the hospital there is an excellent chance that you actually wont catch MRSA too.
I lopped of one of me own arms there last month with a hacksaw.
There was nothing wrong with it, I just wanted to see would it grow back.
It didn’t. Still, nothing ventured eh?
Robert – Precisely. The worst that can happen is for a few crumbs to get in?
Terence – Did you keep the arm? It should be no problem reattaching it again with superglue?
Do you make overseas house calls? I still am shopping for a low-cost alternative knee replacement.
I was told during pre-op that the staff would ask me many many times to review with them what they hope to accomplish.
I am considering offering up slight variations every time they ask.
Sixty – Sorry. In order to cut down on costs, it is advisable for everyone to do their own surgery. Regarding the knee – have you tried Meccano? And for fuck’s sake – don’t mess with hospital staffs’ heads. You will end up getting the operation you deserve.
I was also told I would be asked several times about what kind of surgery I’d be having when I went in for a Nissen fundoplication. Unfortunately I hadn’t learned to pronounce Nissen fundoplication at that time so I just told them castration. I could pronounce that okay.
Kirk M – Let me get this straight – you had your knackers cut off because you coudn’t pronounce Nissen? Or fundoplication? I would have thought that learning the pronuciation would have been slightly less drastic. But then they are your knackers. Or rather, they were………..
Grandad: Some years ago I had a painful swelling on my wrist. In the hospital a doctor called it an inflamed ganglion and said it absolutely required surgery, no doubt about it. I doubted his lack of doubt and am wary of operations unless absolutely necessary. So I decided to wait and see if it would recover through stubbornness and plámás. A month or so later, the wrist was as good as new.
Doctors can be wonderful, but sometimes they’re a bit surgery-happy for my liking. And I’ve picked up infections just by visiting people in hospital.
I hope the ribs recovered in time. Consider wearing a coat of armour at Christmas, or at least a waistcoat of it.
The worrying thing about this is that it’s gross incompetence unrelated to funding or availability of services, just shitty people making stupid mistakes. Crazy.