Thursday, 21 March 2013
I want to tell you all about our
holiday but I have to just mention the week leading up to it. From a
keeping-up-with the treatment side of things it's pretty
important.
I probably didn't rest enough. On the Thursday after my chemo I went into Tunbridge Wells with Husband to do some last minute holiday shopping. I felt awful but didn't really expect to feel any different as it wasn't even a week since my treatment. In the evening at home I felt worse still and my temperature started to go up. We called Mother-in-law and when she arrived to babysit we headed into the local hospital.
As I've said before, the NHS are (hopefully) saving my life and they are doing it for free. I hate to moan about any of them but in this case our local hospital has left me with no alternative.
On arrival, a chemotherapy patient with a temperature of 38 degrees or over needs to be immediately quarantined and should be treated within the hour with IV antibiotics. The risk is that the high temperature may be caused by some infection and if the patient has a compromised immune system the infection could get much worse very quickly. If the patient has no immune system or is neutropenic and the infection spreads to the blood they can develop Neutropenic Sepsis a potentially fatal condition.
I was given a room to wait in with just my Husband but an hour later still hadn't even been assessed by a nurse. Eventually nearly six hours later I was rigged up to some antibiotics. My blood tests had come back showing that I had a blood infection and my neutrophils were at zero. I had been continuously throwing up for a couple of hours, couldn't stand or hold a conversation. The Doctors there had refused to speak to my Oncologists from Guys on the phone and no-one wanted to take responsibility for the fact that they had caused me to become extremely unwell.
I was left in A&E for the next 12 hours before they finally put me in a private room and decided I should be quarantined properly. They then continued to try to finish me off for the next 5 days. Every nurse who arrived to administer my thrice daily antibiotics had a different idea of how they should access my port. Bear in mind that the port is a direct line to my heart and there is only ONE correct and safe way to use it. Luckily I have been trained by the IV nurse in the correct way and spent my time there educating a constant stream of agency staff.
It is of utmost importance that everything is sterile when using the portacath, there are packs with pre-packed gloves, wipes, swabs etc. Everything needed to safely access the port and administer medicine or take a blood sample. On one occasion a DOCTOR came to take a blood sample, he managed to block the port and the two access points (one tube from the port with two access points where you can plug a drip into). They were blocked with blood clots because he hadn't flushed the tubes properly with saline first. I had told him how to do it but he had decided to ignore me. He left the room, leaving me sitting with blood clots blocking a tube leading to my heart and blood all over my nightie, never to be seen again!
A brave and sweet sister came to my rescue. I had a clean needle in my handbag and between us we re-rigged the whole thing. On my last night I had to refuse to have my antibiotics in order to persuade a senior nurse to use a sterile environment. She accused me of suffering from OCD and told me that she only had one sterile pack left and I was NOT the only patient on the ward. These small but significant errors continued all weekend with most staff ignoring the 'gloves and gown' sign on my door, they even sent a nurse with a severe cold to make my bed. Needless to say I was especially pleased to be discharged.
The next day I braved the train ride to London Bridge with Dad to get checked out by the Oncologists at Guys. They gave me the all-clear for my holiday with only 16 hours to spare.
I probably didn't rest enough. On the Thursday after my chemo I went into Tunbridge Wells with Husband to do some last minute holiday shopping. I felt awful but didn't really expect to feel any different as it wasn't even a week since my treatment. In the evening at home I felt worse still and my temperature started to go up. We called Mother-in-law and when she arrived to babysit we headed into the local hospital.
As I've said before, the NHS are (hopefully) saving my life and they are doing it for free. I hate to moan about any of them but in this case our local hospital has left me with no alternative.
On arrival, a chemotherapy patient with a temperature of 38 degrees or over needs to be immediately quarantined and should be treated within the hour with IV antibiotics. The risk is that the high temperature may be caused by some infection and if the patient has a compromised immune system the infection could get much worse very quickly. If the patient has no immune system or is neutropenic and the infection spreads to the blood they can develop Neutropenic Sepsis a potentially fatal condition.
I was given a room to wait in with just my Husband but an hour later still hadn't even been assessed by a nurse. Eventually nearly six hours later I was rigged up to some antibiotics. My blood tests had come back showing that I had a blood infection and my neutrophils were at zero. I had been continuously throwing up for a couple of hours, couldn't stand or hold a conversation. The Doctors there had refused to speak to my Oncologists from Guys on the phone and no-one wanted to take responsibility for the fact that they had caused me to become extremely unwell.
I was left in A&E for the next 12 hours before they finally put me in a private room and decided I should be quarantined properly. They then continued to try to finish me off for the next 5 days. Every nurse who arrived to administer my thrice daily antibiotics had a different idea of how they should access my port. Bear in mind that the port is a direct line to my heart and there is only ONE correct and safe way to use it. Luckily I have been trained by the IV nurse in the correct way and spent my time there educating a constant stream of agency staff.
It is of utmost importance that everything is sterile when using the portacath, there are packs with pre-packed gloves, wipes, swabs etc. Everything needed to safely access the port and administer medicine or take a blood sample. On one occasion a DOCTOR came to take a blood sample, he managed to block the port and the two access points (one tube from the port with two access points where you can plug a drip into). They were blocked with blood clots because he hadn't flushed the tubes properly with saline first. I had told him how to do it but he had decided to ignore me. He left the room, leaving me sitting with blood clots blocking a tube leading to my heart and blood all over my nightie, never to be seen again!
A brave and sweet sister came to my rescue. I had a clean needle in my handbag and between us we re-rigged the whole thing. On my last night I had to refuse to have my antibiotics in order to persuade a senior nurse to use a sterile environment. She accused me of suffering from OCD and told me that she only had one sterile pack left and I was NOT the only patient on the ward. These small but significant errors continued all weekend with most staff ignoring the 'gloves and gown' sign on my door, they even sent a nurse with a severe cold to make my bed. Needless to say I was especially pleased to be discharged.
The next day I braved the train ride to London Bridge with Dad to get checked out by the Oncologists at Guys. They gave me the all-clear for my holiday with only 16 hours to spare.
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