Parole

Over the two weeks I was detained in Dr Gray's, I was tortured every day by junior doctors trying to take my blood. As part of what was going on with my liver, my blood wasn't clotting properly, causing bruising every time blood was taken. My arms were covered in bruises. This photo shows a bruise that was still there even after a week.

On one occasion, I had four puncture wounds before they successfully got blood on the fifth go. Even the phlebotomist left dejected and disappointed because she couldn't get any blood out of me.

My consultant came back from his holiday on 7 July and ws surprised to still see me on the ward. He said some stuff to the other doctors about either going home or getting transferred to Edinburgh and promised to get something sorted out.

Except nothing happened.

Until 9 July. By which time, my patience was running really very thin. I had had enough. I was fed up lying in my bed all day. I was fed up with nurses coming back in after days off and being surprised to see me, asking what was happening and me not being able to tell them anything because none of the doctors would tell me anything!

That morning, the phlebotomist came to take my blood, accompanied by a person from the lab who was new. She had a look about and discounted my elbows and went for the back of my hand. In went the needle, out came no blood so out came the needle. She then tried the inside of my wrist (bloody sore by the way) and when it instantly bruised, she quickly removed the needle. She then started to look at my feet...... But ended up using a vein alongside the knuckle of my index finger. By this point, I was in tears. Couldn't hold them back any longer. All the frustration, worry, anger, general sorry-for-myself came out in tears. And the lovely phlebotomist went to the Ward Sister and asked her to sort something out for me.

About five minutes after I'd managed to get the tears under control, a nurse came in to see me, prompting a further outburst of tears. Sobbing my way through an explanation of how I hated that none of the doctors came to talk to me or tell me about my bloods that day and something about how if a client asked me about their case and I refused to see them or explain it would be professional negligence..., it ended with me saying I wanted to see the consultant. I wanted to know what my bloods had done for the last few days and I wanted to know what Edinburgh were saying.

Well, the tears worked. Within ten minutes, the consultant was on the ward. He's a very calm man, and has a very calming effect. No tears in front of the consultant. Edinburgh had said that they probably still wanted to do the biopsy as my bloods had plateaued but that they still didn't have a bed. There was still a question over some of the immunology results which hadn't come back from the lab yet, but as they weren't doing anything for me, and my bilirubin level had begun to drop suggesting it had peaked, I was told I could go home WOO HOO!!!!!!!! I could have kissed him.

Talk about a change in mood. From my face tripping me and tears being right there under the surface, I had a huge grin on my face and couldn't stop smiling.

By lunchtime, I was ready to go. And despite the junior doctor coming to tell me that my bloods had actually gone up that day, the consultant still said I could go home, provided I came back on Saturday and Monday to have my bloods checked. And so off I went. Finally.