More Nee-Naw

What was that, that Spike Milligan had engraved on his headstone? ‘I told you I was ill’? Ha! Yes, it transpires that John does have an infection, after all – and it’s taken him back into hospital today.

He wasn’t best yesterday. Nevertheless, never one to give up, he was game for getting out of his chair and showing Margaret and Chris the Lotus. He wasn’t up to driving it – and anyway, the engine would start as the battery had gone flat – but they pushed it out onto the drive and had a good look round it and were generally impressed.

The effort floored John, who then flopped into his chair and slept for the rest of the afternoon. To be honest, I wasn’t surprised he was tired, but I was a bit bothered because he was getting more and more confused. Although I made light of it, suggesting it was the morphine, I wasn’t actually convinced of it because he hadn’t had much of the liquid nectar all day. I wasn’t quite sure what was going on. His temperature was stable and he was still managing to get up on his pins to go to bed, so I expected him to get a good night’s sleep and we’d be all hunky-dory today.

Hmmmm…… it didn’t turn out like that. He stumbled into where I was sleeping this morning and was clearly very unwell. He said he’d had a fall. He’d gone to open the curtains and bumped into the blanket box I’d put in the master bedroom, only yesterday, to keep all his medication in. Clearly a mistake on my behalf. He said he fell onto the box and then onto the floor. Oh, heck.

I couldn’t see any bruises or injury, but he wasn’t making a great deal of sense. I tried phoning the MacMillan nurses, but it was too early for them. Being a Sunday, there was no point in phoning the GP either, so it was 999 again.

The paramedics came, did lots of checks and said, “It looks like we’ll be conveying you to the hospital, John.” John was disappointed, of course, but resigned. Back to Warwick Hospital we went.

Fortunately, we had a much better experience today. Well, after all, the doctors weren’t on strike today, were they? So it was bound to be better.

They did lots and lots of checks. They decided to treat the infection under the sepsis umbrella and got the antibiotics prepped and administered fairly quickly. Steroids were administered for his crackly chest; a saline drip was put up to keep him hydrated; an oxygen mask and a nebuliser were strapped to his phizog; an oximeter was clipped to his finger; and a cuff was wrapped around his arm to check his blood pressure. Oh, and if you want anything else, there was the thermometer in his ear and several goes at poking a needle into his arms to draw blood.

A chest x-ray and a CT scan revealed nothing untoward, but there was a suggestion that the confusion was not morphine-related. Maybe a stroke, or a bleed or even the cancer having migrated might be the problem? Scared the pants off me. The confusion was no longer amusing…..

Anyway, they decided to keep him in overnight and the consultant from the ward came down to see him. “I’m just going to take some blood from an artery, John. Sharp scratch …” (why do they always say that? It’s nothing like a scratch, is it?) Ten minutes later, the result. Not enough oxygen in the blood. “Would that cause confusion?” I asked. “Yes,” replied the consultant, “I think they’ve gone down a rabbit hole with the other suggestions.”

There is evidence of kidney damage – probably as a result of one of the drugs John was on – which may be underpinning the whole issue, including the confusion.

Well, now we know what we’re dealing with, maybe the plan the consultant has come up with will patch the ol’ man up and get him back home to me. Watch this space folks!

More prayers and healing thoughts will be appreciated – but, gosh, I bet you’re all exhausted with it all now!!

Take care everyone. God bless.