Speaking in Tongues!

Our GP made a house call on Roger on Monday, to review the situation, as it was clear Roger was not thriving, and he has lost 6lbs of the weight he put on lately. GP faxed through to the surgeon's secretary to ask for an emergency outpatient appointment, and this was fixed for the next day at 10.35am. Unfortunately Roger wasn't feeling at all well the night before, so went to bed early, feeling sick. He started to retch in spite of being given an anti sickness tablet. We both had a dreadful night. Roger didn't dare drink anything for fear of being sick. He was vomiting again in the early morning and, as a result of this and not drinking, became severely dehydrated.

An ambulance, arranged by the surgery, whisked us into A & E. where once more the nightmare of finding a vein to cannulate began. Eventually after much unsuccessful prodding, probing and needle sticking, an anaesthetist was called down from theatre, and managed to cannulate in his foot. Desperate measures!

This procedure took so long that he deteriorated further and lost the power of speaking English. It is called dysphasia, and can apparently affect stroke patients and patients with a major infection going on. Basically it's damage to the left side of the brain that is concerned with language and communication. He had it once before on the ward, but he had a cannula already in then, so they could instantly give him intravenous antibiotics, and within the hour he was speaking English and making sense. This time because they hadn't managed to find a suitable vein the time lapse was greater. Therefore, so was the damage! It was very distressing both for him, and for me to witness.

He certainly had his 15 minutes of fame in that he was rushed through from A & E to Rescussitation and surrounded by senior doctors both surgical and medical. A doctor from ICU came to check him over, and take arterial bloods, which he managed to do gently and expertly. By this time they had both antibiotics and (I believe) plasma dripping into Roger, and he was improving in colour, and also became calmer. Then he was taken to XRay (chest) and then back into the 'hellhole' they call A & E.

We originally arrived there just after 9.00am and by now it was 6.00pm. There wasn't a suitable, available bed in the whole hospital (they said he must have a high dependency bed with constant monitering) so he had to wait. I asked the sister "How long will it be?" She told me that the guy before Roger in the same bay, had just spent all night there waiting for a bed in ICU and he'd just got one. I sincerely hope he was still alive to reap the benefit!

I had to get home, and so it was with very heavy heart that I left Roger at 6.15pm, still unable to voice his needs. Rang the hospital just before 9.30pm and Roger was still in A & E. Went to bed exhausted at 9.30pm and slept until 2.30am. Awoke thinking of Roger and knew I wouldn't get back to sleep before ringing the hospital. Eventually tracked him down to Lister Ward, which made me very happy, because he's been there before, so they know he is compos mentis and will quickly realise that it's due to dysphasia and not dementia, if he starts talking nonsense. Secondly I know they are attentive on that ward, so his needs will be met.

With this knowledge, I fell back to sleep instantly and didn't wake until 6.30am. By 8.00am I was in Waitrose doing a Christmas veg & grocery shop. Figured it best to keep occupied!

Got back: The phone rang, and it was Roger saying in plain English "Hello! It's me! I'm on Lister Ward! and I'm feeling a whole lot better!" He sounded great! He said "It's funny, but I can't get my head around one or two words!" He remembered nothing of the previous day.

I looked up dysphasia on the net and it stated that speech can recover to a greater or lesser extent with time, and the odd one or two words we can soon work on. He was more or less back to normal.

It is obvious to anybody that anything Roger eats or drinks leaves his ileostomy before any absorbtion takes place. Hence, he will never be able to get back to be fit for more surgery, by this route.

I told them in A & E that I cannot live through this again, and I'm not willing to put him through it either, therefore I insisted that Roger be fitted with a 'picc line' (a cannula that stays for weeks, possibly longer, wired in under a local anaesthetic) he can have both fluids and nutrients fed into it without going through the stomach. He can, of course eat and drink as well.

They said it was possible, and I must push for it, so I spoke this morning to sister on the ward. I told her that 1.) I am not willing to have Roger home unless he is fitted with one, and 2) I believe it is crucial to Roger's survival. She said she would convey that to the surgeon on my behalf.

I went in to see Roger this afternoon and, as we talked, a porter arrived and announced he had come to take Roger to have a picc line inserted. Hooray! This way lies success!!