Opinion
Recently, I developed a pain in my arm, which turned out to be caused by two compressed nerves. I tried pain relief and injections, but neither worked, and eventually I had little choice but to have spinal surgery.
The operation took three hours, and I spent 24 hours afterwards in the ICU. The nurses were magnificent, as was my surgeon, his registrar, even the porters. And while the bed was as narrow as an ironing board, I was far too sleepy to care.
The only problem was with the other patients. Well, one patient in particular.
For the first eight hours of my stay, I drifted in and out of consciousness. I woke up late in the evening, jerked into life by a horrific noise. It was an anguished choking – a guttural inhale followed by a deep, groaning exhale.
It took me a moment to figure out where I was. That’s when I became aware that the sound was coming from the only other person in the room. It was a man, lying in the bed opposite, only a couple of metres separating us.
He was flat on his back, and I couldn’t sit up straight, so I couldn’t see his face. All I could see was the vague outline of his body, and the tubes running out of his arms. But I could hear him. The sounds he was making were truly dreadful.
GRRRRROWWW! the man moaned, so loudly I startled. My arm dislodged from my pulse oximeter, and the monitor beeped frantically. I felt a flicker of irritation – I desperately wanted to go back to sleep – and then guilty for being so uncharitable. The poor man was extremely unwell.
A nurse hurried over and began flicking some switches. The beeping stopped. “All fixed,” she said. “How are you feeling?”
“Not great,” I croaked, my voice hoarse. And then I thought of my roommate, and realised how fortunate I was. I was going to get better! I beckoned to the nurse to come closer, then lifted my tethered hand and pointed to my neighbour. “Is he going to make it?” I whispered.
The nurse laughed. “Oh, he’s fine. He’ll be out of here tomorrow. He’s just snoring!”
Those horrendous choking noises were snores? Suddenly, I did not feel fortunate at all.
Each time I closed my eyes, I’d be woken by beeps, or my roommate’s deafening snores. The nurse brought me a pair of industrial strength earplugs.
KERRI SACKVILLE
The rest of the night was torture. Each time I closed my eyes, I’d be woken by beeps, or my roommate’s deafening snores, or a symphony of both. The nurse brought me a pair of industrial strength earplugs, but even they couldn’t block the sounds this man was making. He was a full percussion orchestra wrapped a white hospital gown, and I knew I was never going to sleep.
By dawn, I was delirious. No amount of pain medication could save me. It was not until after 7am that the torment ended. There was blissfully quiet from the other side of the room. My roommate was awake. “Sleep well?” I could hear the nurse ask him.
“Like a log!” he replied cheerfully. Wow, I thought. Must be nice.
The catering tray rolled around. I drank a cup of tea and ate the first of many pots of custard and jelly. Then, about 9am, while my neighbour scrolled on his phone, I found myself finally drifting off to sleep.
“A Zinger burger!” a voice boomed, and I was slammed back awake. “And hash browns. HASH BROWNS.”
Hash browns? I tried to remember where I was. Oh yes. The ICU. Were the meds making me hallucinate? “And three pieces of chook,” I heard someone say. “Boneless. Those crispy things. And extra sauce!”
It was him! It was the snorer! Was he ordering KFC?
Yes, apparently, he was. While some people choose to recuperate from surgery with rest and healthy food, my roommate had decided his best path to recovery was a bucket of fried chicken and chips. My hopes of a little nap had been tossed into the fryer. It was burger time in the ICU.
Surely things couldn’t get worse. Well yes, they could. Before long, the cup of tea I had drunk earlier worked its magic. Just as my neighbour’s meal was delivered to the ICU, I realised I urgently needed to wee.
Now, I’d just had spinal surgery. My legs were not yet functional. The nurse eased me onto a bedpan just as my fellow patient tucked into his nuggets a couple of metres away. I could hear his grunts as he hoed into his chook. No wonder it took me a good 15 minutes to get the job done.
Thankfully, I am back at home now and recovering well. The pain in my arm is gone, the fatigue is lifting, and my scar will be a fun conversation starter at parties. And I have nothing but praise for our healthcare system. It’s just the other patients who cause the pain.
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