NHS Insights Part 3: The Results!

Welcome back to NHS Insights Part 3: The Results! 

My bulbous knee (right) three weeks post surgery 

Note: apologies for the odd photo formatting, Blogger has changed its interface and no longer seems to wrap text around my images. I'll try and fix soon, but for now please enjoy my awkwardly placed recovery pictures! 

I woke up in the recovery room to the sound of a nurse calling my name. People swam around me as the nurse checked my blood pressure. I dozed a while longer, the sound of the blood pressure monitor beeping every 10 minutes reminding me that time was still passing. Nurses came and checked my vitals. Physios came and showed me how to walk. And then I waited. And waited. A few hours after I woke up my surgeon finally showed up.

Just after I'd woken up, looking chirpy (pre-surgeon chat)

He apologised for being late. Which is reasonable if he’d been in surgery, sure. But no, he told me he had been catching up on paperwork following a 4-5-week holiday. He then told me that I had in fact not torn my meniscus as previously thought but have instead ruptured my anterior cruciate ligament (ACL). This is a significantly more serious injury requiring a longer, more complex surgery. He then went on to say, ‘you could not get the surgery, but when you have children, you will struggle to carry the extra weight’. Ummmm….. what?

I’m sure I don’t need to point out how wrong that statement is but in case you missed it, let me explain. Firstly, this means he presumes that I, as a woman, will be having children in the future. Secondly, he has clearly completely forgotten (or doesn’t care) that my ‘default’ walking was on crutches. Surgery was not optional for me. At no point did he apologise, though while stepping out the door he did add, “I really wish I had done an MRI”.

Snazzy new robot leg

Yeah, me too.

What followed was a gruelling few days of processing. I was coming to terms with needing another surgery and processing what had already happened whilst also dealing with pain and recovery. My mental health plummeted. I could not bear to look at my injury for days and took even longer to look at what my second surgery would involve. I am still struggling with the mental effects of these events today. None of this was been helped by the further road bumps I met in the days and weeks following surgery.

I was horrified by the size of my "wound", turns out it was just a dark patch of bandage, my wound was barely a centimetre

The first hiccup came 10 days after surgery when I went to my GP (as instructed) to have my stitches removed. However, when I turned up I was informed that I could not get my GP to remove the stitches as this was a nurses job. Even if the GP would remove my stitches, apparently the still wouldn’t as they didn’t have the right tools on site. Hiccup two came when I had to book an appointment with my new surgeon. When I rang up the orthopaedics clinic to book this appointment, I spent over 80 minutes on hold and was hung up on twice. My first two attempts at ringing in went something along the lines of: 

-Hello, how can I help you. 

-Hi, I’ve been told I need to book a follow up appointment, could I arrange this please? 

-Sure, give me one second. 

*Call ends*

I was really questioning at this point just how many more things could possibly go wrong. 

But then came the biggest road bump of them all, coronavirus. 

I won’t dwell on how Covid-19 has shaken up the planet as I doubt there is a person reading this who has not been affected by the pandemic in some way. However, my personal experience of the global crisis began with watching my appointments and follow ups be cancelled one by one. Firstly, my physio closed, then my follow-up appointment with my surgeon was moved to be a phone call, before eventually even the surgery itself closed. I was lost with no clue when I would next be seen.

Fast forward four months and here we are. I still cannot walk for more than a few minutes at a time, and I still do not know when I will be getting my surgery. This experience has been traumatic, and I don’t want to undersell how much my life has been shaken up. But believe it or not this story has not been all bad. 

It is important to note the good points throughout this saga; to stay grounded and stay hopeful. There have been countless wonderful people that have helped make everything a little bit easier, and so, some shoutouts to some spectacular people are in order:

• My GP, who when I first visited and started blubbing in the room with her was endlessly supportive.
• The nurses who missed my pre-assessment phone call and the poor receptionist at the non-orthopaedics branch of the medical centre were endlessly apologetic.
• Almost everyone (other than my surgeon) who I met at the hospital on surgery day was FAB 
• My physio, who was the first person who actually took the time to explain the damage I had done and how the knee works
• The nurse who removed my stitches and reassured me I was doing great (even though I was the biggest blubbering baby)
• My new surgeon’s secretary who has been keeping me up to date of the progress with Covid-19
• Every one of my friends and family who have helped keep me safe and sane throughout

The vast majority of people who I met throughout this have been so supportive and kind that it gives me hope for the goodness of humanity. There are some incredible humans out there who make the difference to our healthcare system every single day. However, the success of an organisation as vital as the NHS should not depend on individuals going out of their way to help. It should simply work. And yet, at least for me, the road to recovery stretches on a little longer. Of course I will keep you posted, and to anyone else out there who is waiting indefinitely on doctors’ appointments or surgeries, I feel for you. Stay safe and look after each other. 

Until next time,

Vicky