h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

My father was ill again recently - a very painful infection of the testes. He's just come off the antibiotics. It was pretty harrowing - mainly for him, really. The pain must have been very bad and then he was taken to Addenbrookes (Cambridge hospital) where, upon his arrival, they left him half naked, cold and in pain, for a long time before doing anything with him.

My mother called to tell us about it. He'd already been dismissed from the hospital but he couldn't speak because he has problems breathing and can't talk much at one go. He had just eaten and gone to sit in the lounge so was exhausted from that. By the time I'd spoken to my mother he'd got his breath back again to say a word, but he was still very poorly and just managed to gasp out "Promise me you'll look after your mother" - which is rather a heart-stopping thing to hear.

Last night I spoke to them again. Everything is fine and he apologised for scaring me. He was full of how wonderfully my mother coped and did everything while he was away, or at home but helpless. (Actually she does it all anyway, but that's beside the point).

He said "I've fallen in love with her all over again".

They're 85.

Good that it's over (just as over as it can be in this age, I guess though). But it is so wonderful how they seem to feel about each other.
85 is quite an age. My father died when he was 55.
*refuses to make any statement about how people are treated in the hospitals, it does look to be quite the same all around the world*

TC, my dear old Dad has had to cope with spells in hospital too and all I can say is hospitals are very different places compared to even 10 years ago. Every time he has gone in he has come out with infections that have been more debilitating than the problems he went in with.

They are a tough generation though (my Dad will be 83 in 2 months) and seem to be able to bounce back better than I suspect I would.

Aw, bless! Isn't it lovely that in so much pain, his thoughts were to his wife!

Reminds me of when my dad went into hospital - he was 85 when he went in and I was desperately worried. I didn't think he would live.

Why did they leave him half naked, cold and in pain? Couldn't they have got him a blanket? Was your mum with him?

Anyway, glad he's on the mend.

Sorry to hear this news. Hope all's mending well by now. Sorry also that Addenbrookes are not as perfect as they were when I knew them (late 60s)
Experience suggests that age is a factor here. Old people are left until last in busy hospitals everywhere, alas.
This summer I was surrounded by younger people in emergencies, all of whom were treated brilliantly 1)groom's father rushed to hospital the eve of the wedding with distressing symptoms including sky high blood pressure. Worked on all night and allowed out for the weekend in time to make the ceremony at 1.30pm (in his sixties)
2)bride's aunt emergency hysterectomy (put off for a week for same wedding)Fantastic surgery and walking about two days later(late fifties)
3)Dunx had sky-high "fever of unknown origin" a few weeks later. Tested to within an inch of his life in StVincents and allowed home when back to "normal" (early 30s)
I've had surgery in Grimsby, of all places, before coming to Hong Kong. Couldn't fault it. I was then 55.
As more of us get older, I hope our patient power will change things a bit. Our parents' generation didn't complain enough, but, if I get to 85, everybody better watch out.

My dad was treated well on the IOW (mind you he was an emergency and they thought he wouldn't recover). He has a very mild temperament and wouldn't make a fuss. He has a lovely nature, though, and the nurses all loved him - they loved his laughter.

They do say that the people who are likely to make the best recoveries and the demanding patients (although I suspect they are likely to suffer from the consequences of high blood pressure!). It's the quiet uncomplaining ones who have the poorest outcomes - even though the staff like them and don't like the difficult patients.

My father had been in hospital just before their Diamond Wedding celebrations, and made a good job of getting on everyone's nerves there. At least, he is, on the face of it, a very sociable sort, and had them up playing cards and chatting and drinking in the evenings.

In fact the doctors who were trying to confer on the floor below them complained about the noise all these old fellas in the men's ward were making.

He had some fun neighbours and some not so fun ones (he yelled at them to stop messing the nurses about). He had lovely tales of how he was treated. The best bit was the prescription whisky. Very good stuff, but he wasn't quite sure what to say when asked if he wanted 20 or 50 ml (!!!!)

So he plumped for the 50 ml and got that every evening, measured off in a brown bottle. Which kept him happy.

One night he said they were all woken up by two burly prison wardens or policemen bringing in a convict who was put into the bed next to my dad.

This chappy was a good-looking, well-built Spaniard, and he woke up the next morning to see all the nurses standing round his bed ogling and giggling. My Dad got on quite well with him, but he wasn't there long. A couple of co-patients died while he was there. Just for the droolers - - I think he did mention that he was chained to the bed, too.

My father got home for his Diamond Wedding party, which was on 12 June. He was still recovering from the hospital stint but he did very well at the do.

This time, in Addenbrookes, it was slightly different as he was only there one night. After the rough treatment on admission, though, he did say the ward itself was like a 5-star hotel. But he was too ill to appreciate it, I expect.

My mother seems to be bearing up fine - nothing shakes her. I am in e-mail contact with their neighbour who is an utter brick and a real and who drove her to hospital and everything. He confirms that she's OK and rather blossoms in a crisis.

Good for your dad! Mine is teetotal - I don't think he was offered prescription whisky, though - I'm sure he would have told me.

Being on the IOW (which has four prisons, there was a prisoner chained to the bed in one of dad's wards too. We never found his name, but he did some nice cartoon drawings for little , who found the hospital visits quite boring.

Dad complained that most of his neighbours were miserable - only a couple of interesting and lively ones.

Diamond wedding, eh? My paternal grandparents reached their - I've a photo of them on the wall with their cards. My parents married a bit later, so it will be another six years by the time they reach that. Dad would be 91 (and 92 the next day!).

They've just come back from holiday on the Isle of Man and mum says that dad walked her off her feet (and she's a rambler!). I hope your dad is fighting fit soon.

Not so long ago, my Dad was in (Grimsby) hospital to have the metal plate removed from breaking his ankle a couple of years before, which was hurting him.

They offered him no prescription whisky.

Dad drinks so much whisky he'll be already pickled when he goes.

He came OUT of hospital with shingles.



He's still got it.

WI've had two ops there & I feel lucky I caught nothing untoward.

I was there a couple of weeks ago with my own Mum and she got the same treatment; left on a trolley in A&E, cold, half-naked, promising a who never came. We stayed as long as I could; I would never have left her on that trolley.
Her lips had gone blue!
(I went and got her a blanket!!)

She is 85 in October.
Dad is already 86.
Mum bumbles along, enjoying life, Dad moans all the time - but he says "If your Mum goes first, I'd be happy to go the next day" and I know he means it, they've spent their whole long lives together, never had anyone else, their family is their whole life.

I'm taking them shopping this morning.

It must be so hard for you TCnot even being in the same country, you must feel helpless.

I've got a lot to thank West Suffolk CC for then: my education and my Dad's prescription whisky.

I do feel a bit far away here, and will certainly be ringing more often now. If needs be, a Ryanair flight to Stansted should mean I could get there within a day.

It is such a comfort having the next-door-neighbour's e-mail now and knowing he'll keep in touch. He really is a darling. No idea why he's still single, although he's my husband's age. P'raps he's gay.

Or shy! Or just not met the right person.