The Bracelet

My precious gold bracelet

My last post was about my neck operation in Pretoria, South Africa. I am growing stronger by the day and have cut down on pain pills. 💊 However, looking back to the time in hospital I realize that I should tell about my night in High Care.

The worst night and I just think that people should be very wary about trusting those two words, ‘High Care’.

Prior to the operation I was asked to remove my two rings and my bracelet, which, I believed, could not be removed because of my arthritic fingers. My bracelet would damage my thin skin but was probably possible, but I told them, ‘no they can’t be removed’ .

A couple of nurses said that it was fine to leave them and simply wrap them. The nurse which was my main ‘care giver’ said that I should take them off in case I should suffer a burn.

Long story short, this scenario repeated itself through my journey down the corridors to the OR, in the waiting area and right up to when I was attached to two arm rests and about to be sent into that lovely trip into sleep.

I love that moment. I gave up and said that they could try with jelly. They were removed. Ow!!! The OR sister put them on the side and assured me that they would be put on immediately after surgery.

On my way back to the ward my ‘care giver’ whispered in my ear that they had been put back. I slept peacefully, knowing that all was well. At two am I felt around for my jewelery. The rings were in place. On my right hand were three hospital plastic identity tags and on my left hand was a drip which had been wrongly inserted and went into the tissue instead of into the vein and had blown my body up like a Telly Tubby by 5 am, but no gold bracelet.

The biggest item and easiest to get back on , was not on. The Matron, who had finally arrived after I had banged my cup on the table calling for attention all night , before they removed the table and cup so that I couldn’t do that) asked what my problem was. The cup was to hold water so that I could pull water up into a syringe to drink in my desperate need for water seeing as the drip was not working.

I indicated to her that I couldn’t speak as my throat was almost closed and my entire mouth was stuck dry. Also that I had asked to have my oxygen mask fixed as it was broken on one side and I hadn’t received any oxygen throughout the night. Then I understood why suddenly it was replaced with the two pipes up the nose , when Matron arrived.

Why the bad treatment throughout the night. ? Because I kept asking for my bracelet and was told to wait until morning. Probably after shift change and no chance of recovering it.

It appeared like magic when Matron asked them to bring it and the ‘care giver’ then whispered again into my ear, 👂, ‘don’t fight with me, we need the job as we have families to feed’.

My rings were back

Tip: If possible before going in for surgery remove any items of jewellery. What an ordeal to go through on top of having surgery.