PattiEvans
Well-Known Member
- Relationship to Diabetes
- Type 1
- Pronouns
- She/Her
As some of you will know, I have just returned from France where I was rushed off the ship on the evening of our 40th wedding anniversary whilst on a wine tasting river cruise. After I was taken by ambulance to a small hospital, I was eventually airlifted to Bordeaux where I underwent a rather nasty operation for Pneumonia which has left a 12" scar on my back and resulted in me spending a week in intensive care and a further 8 days in a private room in the thoracic department of the hospital. I thought it worth telling the tale, even if just to highlight a couple of things worth considering when going on holiday.
On the whole I cannot fault the care with which I was nursed, but my goodness there were some "interesting" moments. During the initial days in intensive care they put me on an insulin drip - now I know members here will swear blind they will never allow anyone to do that, but you really don't have any choice when firstly you are delirious and after that unconscious. Anyway although I had my sensor on some members of the nursing team were reluctant to use it and insisted pricking fingers every 2 hours during the night, much to my discomfort and interrupting what little sleep I was getting. Plus, what I did not appreciate was that the French way of measuring BG is quite different from ours. So one early morning there I was with a rigid plastic oxygen mask strapped tightly onto my face. I could see my BG dropping rapidly through the 3s down into the 2s and my panic was mounting as I dropped down and though I had Dextro tabs in my hand, I could not take off the mask to allow me to put the tablets in my mouth. I kept stabbing the call button and this young woman kept wafting past telling me it wasn't "Urgent" as 2.9 to her in the French system equates to 16.095 in ours. Eventually a more qualified nurse came, realised what was going on, filled a horse syringe with glucose, applied it directly into the insulin line and shoved the plunger in quickly. The rush hit my vein in my inner elbow and I nearly shot vertically off the bed!
There were some funny incidents in retrospect. On one occasion I was told to "go for a walk" to see whether I was fit to be sent to the general thoracic ward. I was escorted out of the private intensive care corridor and into the general corridor, escorted by a very handsome young man either side of me (physiotherapists apparently) with me hanging onto a rollator with an oxygen bottle, wearing nothing but a hospital gown flapping open at the back with my nekkid 79 year old bum on general display - meanwhile I am attempting an intelligent conversation in French. The only person in the least bit dismayed at this was me!
Meantime the pump had been removed twice, which caused me some anxiety as it depleted the stock of pump supplies I had taken with me (enough for 18 days even though we were initially only due to be away for 8 days). The room I was given in the thoracic ward was meant to accommodate 2 persons, but the whole time I was there I was in sole occupation. The bathroom light was broken from day 1 which meant propping the door open whenever you wanted to use the bathroom for any purpose. The door was directly at right angles to the room door and although staff would knock, they would then walk straight in. By that time I was, frankly, losing any inhibitions I might have had with regards to modesty.
Finally with a huge sigh of relief I was able to apply my pump and get on with looking after my own BGs, even though I had to report my levels to the nursing staff continuously. That morning I was eagerly awaiting my hubby Julian's arrival with my own clothes for the first time when I was somewhat surprised to have two "men in black" invade the room. I was somewhat taken aback, carefully tucking the hospital smock around myself. It was a while, but eventually I realised that it was a maintenance man and his sulky teenage apprentice, who seemed to have reached the "pass the screwdriver" level. They were there to mend my bed - an arm thingie meant to hold up the control for the bed positions had tried to detach itself and had been dangling despondently. In order to do this the mattress had to be flipped over and at one point large and fearsome "man in black" had to crawl on all fours under the bed. I really couldn't help laughing, he looked at me, and suddenly broke out in the loveliest smile! To my delight they also mended the bathroom light - privacy and clothes at last.
Not however before the pump fell out of my gown and hit the floor twice. The first time the display became dim but was still useable, the second time it was completely dead. Thank goodness I had taken pens and cartridges of basal and bolus insulins. So I fell back on the forum to get some idea of a starting point for Levemir.... it had been 4 pumps since I'd had to inject basal! Nursing staff fussed, wanted to take my pens off me and administer insulin themselves. No way Jose was that going to happen, which resulted in some strong words on both sides. In the end it was fine and I got my way... I started with 4u Levemir and woke with 5.7 and a flat line. It did go up a bit, but mostly it was OK and I managed BGs fairly well, though I was hardly eating anything as the food was so dire. I swear one day it was minced mouse! Just the smell was enough... fortunately lovely hubby was supplying me with quiche and French sticks stuffed with ham & cheese, tuna or if I was lucky smoked salmon and cream cheese, even so I wasn't at all hungry.
After 8 days in the second ward the Doctors said I could be discharged. I was joyous, until the Insurance people rang and said they wanted me to be accompanied by a medic on the way home and that they also wanted me to stay in hospital another week! We both threw our toys out of the pram and booked our flight home, plus the Hilton hotel in Bordeaux for 3 nights. Despite being a bit weak I managed to get down to the restaurant area of the town by means of Uber. I loved the meals I had in the Brasserie Francaise... Ocean Salade and another day John Dory!
However.... diabetes managed a final stroke - my sensor fell off a week early... so 3 days before I finally got home I had gone in stages from HCL with a pump to finger pricks and injections..... It could have been worse, but in future I shall be taking way more than twice as much in the way of supplies, plus every back up I can think of!
On the whole I cannot fault the care with which I was nursed, but my goodness there were some "interesting" moments. During the initial days in intensive care they put me on an insulin drip - now I know members here will swear blind they will never allow anyone to do that, but you really don't have any choice when firstly you are delirious and after that unconscious. Anyway although I had my sensor on some members of the nursing team were reluctant to use it and insisted pricking fingers every 2 hours during the night, much to my discomfort and interrupting what little sleep I was getting. Plus, what I did not appreciate was that the French way of measuring BG is quite different from ours. So one early morning there I was with a rigid plastic oxygen mask strapped tightly onto my face. I could see my BG dropping rapidly through the 3s down into the 2s and my panic was mounting as I dropped down and though I had Dextro tabs in my hand, I could not take off the mask to allow me to put the tablets in my mouth. I kept stabbing the call button and this young woman kept wafting past telling me it wasn't "Urgent" as 2.9 to her in the French system equates to 16.095 in ours. Eventually a more qualified nurse came, realised what was going on, filled a horse syringe with glucose, applied it directly into the insulin line and shoved the plunger in quickly. The rush hit my vein in my inner elbow and I nearly shot vertically off the bed!
There were some funny incidents in retrospect. On one occasion I was told to "go for a walk" to see whether I was fit to be sent to the general thoracic ward. I was escorted out of the private intensive care corridor and into the general corridor, escorted by a very handsome young man either side of me (physiotherapists apparently) with me hanging onto a rollator with an oxygen bottle, wearing nothing but a hospital gown flapping open at the back with my nekkid 79 year old bum on general display - meanwhile I am attempting an intelligent conversation in French. The only person in the least bit dismayed at this was me!
Meantime the pump had been removed twice, which caused me some anxiety as it depleted the stock of pump supplies I had taken with me (enough for 18 days even though we were initially only due to be away for 8 days). The room I was given in the thoracic ward was meant to accommodate 2 persons, but the whole time I was there I was in sole occupation. The bathroom light was broken from day 1 which meant propping the door open whenever you wanted to use the bathroom for any purpose. The door was directly at right angles to the room door and although staff would knock, they would then walk straight in. By that time I was, frankly, losing any inhibitions I might have had with regards to modesty.
Finally with a huge sigh of relief I was able to apply my pump and get on with looking after my own BGs, even though I had to report my levels to the nursing staff continuously. That morning I was eagerly awaiting my hubby Julian's arrival with my own clothes for the first time when I was somewhat surprised to have two "men in black" invade the room. I was somewhat taken aback, carefully tucking the hospital smock around myself. It was a while, but eventually I realised that it was a maintenance man and his sulky teenage apprentice, who seemed to have reached the "pass the screwdriver" level. They were there to mend my bed - an arm thingie meant to hold up the control for the bed positions had tried to detach itself and had been dangling despondently. In order to do this the mattress had to be flipped over and at one point large and fearsome "man in black" had to crawl on all fours under the bed. I really couldn't help laughing, he looked at me, and suddenly broke out in the loveliest smile! To my delight they also mended the bathroom light - privacy and clothes at last.
Not however before the pump fell out of my gown and hit the floor twice. The first time the display became dim but was still useable, the second time it was completely dead. Thank goodness I had taken pens and cartridges of basal and bolus insulins. So I fell back on the forum to get some idea of a starting point for Levemir.... it had been 4 pumps since I'd had to inject basal! Nursing staff fussed, wanted to take my pens off me and administer insulin themselves. No way Jose was that going to happen, which resulted in some strong words on both sides. In the end it was fine and I got my way... I started with 4u Levemir and woke with 5.7 and a flat line. It did go up a bit, but mostly it was OK and I managed BGs fairly well, though I was hardly eating anything as the food was so dire. I swear one day it was minced mouse! Just the smell was enough... fortunately lovely hubby was supplying me with quiche and French sticks stuffed with ham & cheese, tuna or if I was lucky smoked salmon and cream cheese, even so I wasn't at all hungry.
After 8 days in the second ward the Doctors said I could be discharged. I was joyous, until the Insurance people rang and said they wanted me to be accompanied by a medic on the way home and that they also wanted me to stay in hospital another week! We both threw our toys out of the pram and booked our flight home, plus the Hilton hotel in Bordeaux for 3 nights. Despite being a bit weak I managed to get down to the restaurant area of the town by means of Uber. I loved the meals I had in the Brasserie Francaise... Ocean Salade and another day John Dory!
However.... diabetes managed a final stroke - my sensor fell off a week early... so 3 days before I finally got home I had gone in stages from HCL with a pump to finger pricks and injections..... It could have been worse, but in future I shall be taking way more than twice as much in the way of supplies, plus every back up I can think of!
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