Never underestimate the value part 2 (or maybe, part 3)I

Sam just didn't get it. I reminded her that I am the one who is at risk of infection from other people-and that it is not the other way around. But I could see that any logical argument was useless. So- I put in a call to Val Taylor.

Val is Mr. Skinner's anaesthetist. I rang the office and left a message asking that she stop in to see me before going home-if it was possible. Twenty minutes later, one of the nasty nurses came rushing in, demanding to know if I was in pain. The message the ward got was that I had called Val because I was in pain, and the nurse was extremely hostile, because she said that I should have rung the buzzer for medication if I was in pain. I said I hadn't rung to speak with Val for any problems with pain, and that the ward got it wrong. I wanted to see Val for something else. What? she demanded not that it was her business- so I said I'm thinking of cancelling surgery. And Sam came back-and she was furious. We've worked so hard on getting all this done, blah, blah, blah. She kept saying not to worry about it, and left. Easy for her to say don't worry. So I waited for Val.

Val came to see me at 5:30. I told her everything: the attitudes, the nastiness, even the crap service. She said I should be treated the same as everyone else, but reminded me that on the private ward I was going to get that kind of attitude-and asked if food was important. I said it wasn't-but wasn't it interesting the way there were two types of service: one for the paying customers, one for the NHS customers. We had a laugh about that-then got onto the real subject: the room.

I told her that the staff keep telling me that I will be moved out, that I shouldn't be in a private ward. And she excused herself, and said she would be back in a minute. About ten minutes later, Val returned. She had written in my notes-in big letters, she said-that I am not to be moved out of this room before surgery on Tuesday, and if anyone tried to move me, there would be no surgery. Val went on to say that she had tried to contact the administrators, but everyone had gone for the weekend. So-she emailed them, and demanded an answer on Monday (today).

She told them that she wanted me to remain in this room in this ward until I am discharged from the hospital next week. She then went on to say that if I go on a ward and people get pseudomonas, or if I contract an infection in the new knee, the hospital would be in serious legal trouble.

Val is the first one who has been actually in my corner; I could have hugged her. So I said thanks, and told her how much I appreciated her fighting for me, and she said that she would let me know what happens. Then we talked about her daughter, who wants to move to an area of London which is familiar to me, and she left at around 6:30. And I felt that maybe, maybe something would finally work in my favor. Finally.

Saturday I spent six hours in the Intensive Care Unit; I needed to have a whacking big dose of immunoglobulin (intravenously), and I had to go there to have it done. Part of me was afraid they would sell this room while I was gone!! But I remembered what Val said, and I was okay.

I said the dongle doesn't work-and that is why I have been offline for so long. True-but I discovered yesterday (I asked one of the friendly nurses-probably friendly because she was an agency nurse) that there is free internet access for the private patients. Hallelujah!! I may get lousy food, nasty people-but I have a private room and a private bathroom (for now, at least)-and free internet service.

Silver lining!

Mr. Skinner didn't come in this morning - I'm not a private patient, so he isn't obliged to see me until the morning of the surgery: tomorrow. But who did come in? The registrar, Jake-and Sam. We spoke a little about the surgery itself, which will happen around 3pm. Then the two people were going to leave-and Jake asked me if I had any questions.

Who am I? I'm a pushy New Yorker, that is who I am!! I have lived here for more than half my life, but once a New Yorker, always a New Yorker. So I said-about the room...And I pushed it. And Sam, bless her (the hubris of youth, I guess) said not to worry. So I snapped don't tell me not to worry. Jake said he heard something about Val going to speak with people, but he said he didn't really want to become involved (excuse me?? Aren't you one of my doctors???).

I stood my ground, and Jake finally said that he would speak with Mr. Skinner and one of them will tell me tomorrow what is going on.

Then I said: I will not go into surgery without knowing exactly where I am going to be when I get out of Intensive Care on Wednesday morning. Don't worry isn't good enough. Don't worry, trust us, blah, blah, blah.

I said-and forcefully-that unless I know where I am going on Wednesday when I return to the ward-and unless I have everyone's assurances (that is, the people in charge), I will cancel surgery.

I told Jake outright that I am not risking my life and my health so the hospital can make money on this room. You don't want to tell me where, and give me the details? Then I am going home.,

And that is non-negotiable.

Fight for your rights. Nobody else will!!

I will let you know what happens tomorrow.