No one wants to end up in the emergency department at the hospital, but it happens.
My visit was on the morning of April 20. I had been guest speaker at Trinity Church breakfast and despite the distraction of the microphone causing me a bit of trouble as it kept being cut out, I managed to get the job done.
Earlier in the afternoon I had been planting bushes with the help of my son-in-law Mark Fisher and cleaning up some of the winter debris from the garden.
At that point I probably should have taken a rest and sat down inside since it was snowing.
Helen, my daughter, and Mark left, and I went to put the shears and garden gloves away in the garage. It was then that I dropped a glove and as I bent to pick it up, my knee collapsed. I knew I could not stop the fall, so turned my head slightly to avoid my face being smashed into the cement floor.
When I came around after blacking out, I felt blood pouring down my face.
I thought for a moment this might be my ninth life. My husband, David, was up at our sailing club and I didn't want him to come home and opening the garage door see a pool of blood with me lying in it.
It could easily give him a heart attack!
I managed to crawl into the house, grab a paper towel and message my daughter with my iPad. With blood and profanities flowing, I cried, “Please come back Now.” They were here within a few minutes and took charge.
Once they had cleaned me up and examined the wound, they determined a trip to the hospital was necessary. I was in shock, hurting like hell and did not argue.
Brenda Hunniford was the intake nurse at reception, and she was kind, warm and thoughtful as always. I had met her before as she was a friend of my daughter’s. It was very reassuring and good to see someone I knew at Cambridge Memorial.
Despite how busy the staff were, they were all wonderfully caring. They sat me in a wheelchair, brought me ice for the swelling and a warm blanket for the shock. I opted not to take Tylenol until after I had seen the doctor.
Waiting in emergency, time goes very slowly for the patient but not for the staff. As new emergencies arrive, they must do triage and put the patients in order of urgency. Once they had checked for concussion, observed that I was not concussed, had no broken bones, and the bleeding slowed, I was not an urgent case.
It was several hours before I saw the doctor, Dr. Gilles Roy, who quickly assessed that I needed stiches.
By now my daughter had left for an event and my husband David had taken her place to comfort me. It always helps pass the time if you have a companion when in the hospital emergency department.
Dr. Roy cleaned the cut and arranged a CT scan to look for possible internal bleeding. He asked if I knew that as we age the brain shrinks, which allows more room for blood to pool in the head. Oh yes, I assured him, I was all too aware that my brain was shrinking, too rapidly I added with a smile.
He gently inserted the freezing into the brow where the cut was and proceeded to sew up the wound. He was friendly, reassuring, and efficient.
Being an emergency doctor is not easy; you never know what might come next and you must make instant decisions about the treatment. Many patients are rude, angry and take it out on the already-overworked and stressed staff. Staff shortages have unfortunately become normal these days.
Once the stitches were in, the wait for the CT scan began, six hours after I arrived. Being claustrophobic — the result of being stuck in a chimney as a young child — I have always had a fear of cat scans.
The new machine at the hospital helps overcome this. As you lie on the bed and Kevin, the technician that day, encourages you to look at the ceiling, there is a beautiful mural of a blue sky, birds flying across and lovely spring blossoms to look at. Now look at that for a few minutes and hold the image in your head and going through the CT scan is a breeze.
Almost done, I was feeling very tired and wanted to sleep but had to wait for the results.
Meanwhile, a nurse was assigned to clean up my face and dress the wound. I wish I had taken note of her name, she was terrific. Caring, gentle and when she saw there was a lot of dried blood in my hair, she asked, since I would not be able to wash my hair for several days, if she could clean it up a bit.
Wow, what service. She got some dry shampoo, did a wonderful job, and even got a comb and combed it for me. Only a faint tinge of pink remained which could have been a rinse.
She was so caring it made me cry. All the staff were excellent. I have always thought the staff at CMH were above average, but my husband David, after 30 years of care in Toronto then 35 years in Brampton, said he has had the best medical care of his life since coming to Cambridge, which certainly confirms my thoughts.
The staff seem cohesive, act as a team and know one another. They communicate and share information when necessary.
Three weeks later, the scar is healing well, the bruising and swelling have subsided and, apart from being more cautious, I am almost back to normal.
This wasn’t my ninth life after all. I am extremely appreciative of our hospital and would like all the employees and medical staff, particularly those on call in the emergency department on Saturday, April 20 between 3- 9 p.m. to know how thankful I am for their care.
