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Posts Tagged ‘pain management’

I had a pretty awful weekend and not one I planned either. Early on Saturday morning I woke with very bad pain in my lower abdomen and after taking some tablets, I found I was becoming more unwell and realising that I was going to pass out, woke my husband up. I’m too tired to write much but as a result of the pain, my blood pressure dropped through the floor and I started to lose consciousness. The ambulance came and whisked me away, a lovely paramedic called Steve gave me morphine to try and deal with the pain.

I spent all weekend and yesterday in hospital, but without what I would call proper resolution for the problem. No scans but  those for life-or-death patients are available at that hospital during the weekend so I was kept in till Monday, and even then didn’t get one. There is something fundamentally wrong with a hospital that doesn’t get that people get sick and injured at weekends and make appropriate arrangements.

Hospital is not a good place for a sensitive spirit; noise and lights and constant lack of privacy are only a few of the things that make resting impossible, so I am very glad to get home to rest.

I have had some interesting thoughts, but am still to befuddled to put them down so it may be a week or two before I can write them.

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Before anyone panics, I wrote this about 3 and a half years ago when my emergency rescue by air ambulance landed me in Derby Royal Infirmary and no one knew for a while what the matter was. It turned out to be an unusual form of appendicitis. I did indeed write it while sleepless in a hospital bed

I’m posting this for someone I hope might pop over here; he’ll know who he is and he’ll know when he reads the line about Occam’s razor!

Sleepless in a hospital bed
 
My world has shrunk:
Bordered by weakness,
Walled with pain,
Curtained by wakefulness.
My world has shrunk
To this one bed,
This room, this ward;
My leash, an IV drip.
I'm anchored not by hope
But by stubborness,
A sheer bloody-mindedness
That stops me escaping in sleep.
Determined to live
Each uncomfortable second
Each awkward moment,
Each pang of pain or fear
Holds me tight as arms.
I'm safe, I know;
My fears are fools
With louder voices
Than my common sense
Whispering of Occam's razor
And going home well again.
But the whispers are drowned
By the night noises of the ward:
The crying in the next room
Of a confused distressed old person
Going apparently unanswered;
The bleeps and clicks
Made by machines
Surrounding us-
And the traffic slowing
But never stopping.
I watch the curtains
Billow softly around me
In the night wind
Blowing warm from heaters
And finally let myself
Begin to drift
Into the safe painless

Harbour of sleep

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Three wishes.

 

Every time I reach breaking point,

I find that I do not break.

Every time I reach the end of my tether,

I find that the tether is made of elastic.

Every time I think in pain I can’t go on,

I find that somehow against the odds, I do.

Sometimes I wish that I might break,

Shattering into a million relieved fragments,

Sparkling like road-crash diamonds

Both beautiful and horrible at once.

I wish that when I feel that collar

Press and pull my aching throat,

That it would snap, burst asunder

And leave me sprawling on the ground.

And I wish more than anything,

That when I feel I can’t possibly go on,

Tired and worn from trying too hard,

I might be given grace and space to stop.

 

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Sleepless in a hospital bed
 
My world has shrunk:
Bordered by weakness,
Walled with pain,
Curtained by wakefulness.
My world has shrunk
To this one bed,
This room, this ward;
My leash, an IV drip.
I'm anchored not by hope
But by stubborness,
A sheer bloody-mindedness
That stops me escaping in sleep.
Determined to live
Each uncomfortable second
Each awkward moment,
Each pang of pain or fear
Holds me tight as arms.
I'm safe, I know;
My fears are fools
With louder voices
Than my common sense
Whispering of Occam's razor
And going home well again.
But the whispers are drowned
By the night noises of the ward:
The crying in the next room
Of a confused distressed old person
Going apparently unanswered;
The bleeps and clicks
Made by machines
Surrounding us-
And the traffic slowing
But never stopping.
I watch the curtains
Billow softly around me
In the night wind
Blowing warm from heaters
And finally let myself
Begin to drift
Into the safe painless

Harbour of sleep

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New lamps for old

 

New pain is shrill:

Screaming sirens and squealing tyres.

It thunders in the ears

Pulsing with passion,

Crimson coated across the retina:

The loud insistent throb

Of deafening music.

It hammers at your door,

Shrieking like a demented lover

Demanding your attention.

Old pain is quiet,

Lodged in bones and gut,

Buried in muscle

Hidden by fat.

A constant ache,

Dull but bearable.

A sudden scent, a forgotten face,

A careless chord and then,

Pain pounds, a brief flare

Of hot remembered hurt.

by Viv

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