Poorly papa & a pick me up

The last month has been stressful. My father collapsed at home, following an operation on his prostate, and when he came round was confused and unable to use his legs. He was rushed to the Norfolk and Norwich hospital putting strain on my mother, who also has mobility/health issues.

So began an ordeal regarding hospital treatment. The fall actually occurred after he was first admitted to hospital with a suspected UTI but then sent home. Now re-admitted, with the additional complication of being unable to walk, the hospital again attempted to discharge him, twice in fact, with no diagnosis. The most alarming moment coming when he telephoned home confused in the early hours one morning having been dumped in a discharge lounge without explanation.

The following morning a rather firm conversation ensued with medical staff. This led to them looking afresh at his situation and, now suspecting a stroke, he was moved to a different ward. Why did it take this intervention to get appropriate care? In the following days the theory of stroke was ruled out however and his condition became a mystery.

Fast forward three frustrating weeks and we are finally closing in on a diagnosis. It turns out sepsis caused the confusion, and he is better in that regard following a strong course of antibiotics. And the doctors now think the immobility is due to a condition called neuro-sarcoidosis, which causes inflammatory nodules to appear in the body; and the presence of one within his spinal chord is hampering movement in his legs. It is too early to say if he will get use of them back. Your prayers are appreciated.

I provide this update partly because people are kindly asking after him. And partly because it paints the backdrop for much better news. First bit of good news; on Wednesday morning I entered church, following my latest trip to Norfolk, feeling exhausted and fed up. Only to discover that during my absence, Pat, a skilled craftsman from our congregation, had finished gilding in the sanctuary. The photograph above shows how the reredos has been transformed. It looks amazing. It was a real pick me up- a ray of light in an otherwise gloomy week. I am very thankful for it.

The second bit of good news concerns the generosity of decent people. I am grateful to a childhood friend, Canon Simon Ward, vicar of Gt. Yarmouth Minster, who visited my father when I could not be there in person. Also to Graham and Suzanne who, having recently moved from Tunbridge Wells to Sheringham, got in touch to see if they could help my mother. I met them for a pint on Monday evening and it was lovely to see familiar faces and know friends are on the ground in an emergency. Credit also to my parent’s Anglican church in Sheringham, who have rallied and offered lifts and help. And credit to the Anglican Bishop of Lynn who visited within 24 hours. The church, Protestant and Catholic, comes out of the saga with credit. I wish I could say the same for the poor old NHS…

Don’t get me wrong; the medical care is decent. And most doctors and nurses are working hard despite being obviously overstretched and underfunded. But that underfunding and stretch means serious problems are very apparent. The first is a break down in basic nursing. When I got to my father’s bedside he was caked in dry vomit, unshaven and lying in the remains of last night’s supper. This sort of thing is not expensive to fix- it just needs a little care and attention. The second problem is communication. It can seem that nobody talks to anyone else, that nursing wards exist to protect doctors from relatives and over zealous date protection protocols mean getting reliable information via telephone is next to impossible. Ready to deal with a pandemic? I have my doubts. The government needs to look afresh at how the NHS is run. From my vantage point, limited though it is, the whole thing is already in deep crisis and at breaking point.