Day 9 (Day 7 of symptoms) The really, really thirsty bit

Wednesday 18th November

I post in Facebook

It's cyclical. The symptoms ebb and flow. And constantly changing. Sometimes I feel like I could just leave and I've to remind myself of the many injections that are keeping me this way.

Two am I ate an apple, courtesy of ED legend Anne Fisher, a simple apple. It was tart and crisp and wonderfully juicy and cool. And I could taste it!!! Without doubt the best apple have ever eaten.

4 am and shared memories with two my all-time favourite ED buddies who are now in US. Memories of the fun we had when in the Frenchay days, surely the happiest hospital ever.

I am fortunate to have lived the life I have and I have always thought myself a lucky man to have been part of the wonderful family of the NHS

Some of the happiest times of my career were working the graveyard shifts at Frenchay A and E. One of my colleagues from that time, Glenda, reminded me of that time with a comment made on Facebook. She is now working in the States as is another member of that team, Mau.

This memory prompted the following Facebook thread

Mau: So probably when that nurse was in you room ... you remembered some of your lovely Filipino colleagues in the past (aka Mau, Glenda and Lewis... how good they are ... how lucky you had us ... get well soon mike ... xx

Me: Mau how well you know me! That's exactly what I told her. I loved it when we all worked together, such happy times. Such a great team.

Mau: Mike Peters so true ... Frenchay days ...

Me: Frenchay days, they were the best. Night shifts with a bunch of cheeky, giggling Filipinos and a funny Australian Reg, remember Julian? My dreamtime

Glenda : I remembered one day at work you were at Triage and was accused of being racist, you gathered Pank, Lewis, Me and not sure if Mau or Siny, then you asked the patient “me racist? look who I work with?” Hahaha we know how much you love us! They were the best of good times at Frenchay xxx hurry up and get better soon Mike xx

(Pank is from India as is Siny, Lewis like Glenda and Mau are from the Philippines)

Me: yeh, that's right! And Lewis started calling me Racey the Racist. I cut two holes in a pillow case and whipped it on my head as he came into resus but had not noticed the ortho SHO behind him. The very white, very straight ortho SHO who gave me a not so short lecture about why it was not funny to wear a pillow case on your head while you lot fell about giggling at Red Base…

Eli: Glenda, I have so many funny stories about Mike Peters and Frenchay ED. not sure he'd want me to share them tho ( I will bet on it!)

Me: Eli do it! I dare you! Xx

Glenda: Eleanor Shhh! Sshhh! (I can see her smiling face, hear her giggle)

All this at four in the morning.

On Facebook I post

The middle ground of the danger zone

Felt fine at two am. Taste has returned. I can taste, I must be better right? Not so much. Covid is a sadist. Likes the dramatic effect, I guess. Covid is skulking pantomime villain with flowing cloak and floppy brim hat that waits until your defences are down. He crept in this morning about an hour ago. I could sense him in the shadows. An increasing clamminess the only warning and then all of the oxygen is sucked from the room and I am bolt upright and coughing until I have no breath to cough with. Sats 89% not what you want to see but rising now with more oxygen. Covid backed right off when one of my defenders entered the room. Cool calm collected, she has had a night from hell, three confused patients and only three nurses for the whole ward and not one word of complaint.

Nebuliser on, airways opening. Fuck you Covid. In a swirl of musty cloakiness he sweeps off into the shadows, muttering no doubt clichéd lines like "foiled again, pesky nurse heroes" and shaking his fist at me as he goes.

It’s not my best day. I am breathless most of the time. Sweat pours from me constantly, soaking the dressings that hold my cannulas in place which start lifting from the skin and eventually need a little bandaging to hold them in place. I nod off every now and then but the constant interruptions to keep me alive don’t allow me to sleep for long.

I think am becoming a bit of a favourite patient. Some of the staff stay longer and have chat. My room a has become a bit of an oasis for them, most of the patients are elderly, many of them are confused, none of them are happy, all of them are scared. They are not easy patients to manage.

.

I am in a closed group on Facebook, ran by a very good friend of mine, Barry Golten, where a small group of us entertain each other by doing covers of songs. I am blessed to have the friendship of both nurses and musicians

I post this

Hi guys Lacking a little entertainment in here Any chance of a cover or two to big up my flagging mojo?

Another Facebook post following the ward round

Visit from consultant, fourth one I've seen, they are going to try another anti biotic. Broadly optimistic with the big, unspoken "but" hanging behind every word. A lovely cheery man who had Covid himself earlier in the year and carried on working despite his family wanting him to quit. Amicable friendly conversation ending with "oh, some other good news, we have decided that you are for active resuscitation, good luck!"

This is the first I have heard of this. I am now for active resuscitation? I wasn’t previously? Why not? No one asked me! At 59 and previously healthy, I must be really ill for them to decide not to attempt resuscitation. What an eye opener, I am actually a bit shocked by this, it’s a decision not lightly made, usually about much older, much sicker patients than me and they didn’t include me in the discussion, they didn’t ask me what my wishes were. This to me is unprecedented and brings another level of awareness about how Covid has changed everything.

It’s a really slow morning. I watch the beads of sweat forming on my skin. I have not had a drink for over 24 hours. I am still running a fever, the Dexy makes me edgy, jumpy, irritable. My mouth is so dry my tongue keeps sticking to the roof of my mouth.

Doctor Sean pops his head in “Oh by the way you can drink again, your sodium has come up!” Hallelujah! I drink until I wee and then I drink some more. The cough is unrelenting. Everything aches.

At one o’clock that day I post this on Facebook

1301 Overheard Covid

Good morning Muriel

Piss off

How are you feeling today?

Piss off, fer fucks sake

Should you care for a cup of tea?

Yes, please dear

Here's my good friend Mick Conway, of Bristol's own Laid Blak, my brother in the truest sense of the word, we share a little bit of our souls, rallying to the call out in the covers group, with a musical tribute to the unsung heroes of the NHS...and me!

Bristol has been responsible many innovations in health. In 1997 the Bristol stool scale was introduced to the world. Devised at and named in honour of @BristolUni, this chart, which ranks the quality of human stools from a scale of 1 - 7 (with 4 the ideal) is regarded as one of the most important diagnostic tools in modern medicine.

Every day, I was asked four times whether I had “a motion”. Each day I was shown the Bristol chart and asked “which number?”

On Facebook I post

Covid high lights

Dr: Have you had your bowels open

Me: no but it's ok

Nurse: here's the senna the Dr wrote

Me: it's ok, I really won't need it

Nurse: it's been 6 days

Me: ok

Later

Nurse: have you had your bowels open?

Me: (Evil smile, facial tic) yes

Nurse: look at the chart can you show me which one?

Me: (satisfied face) all of em

My family and friends keep my spirits up. I have a constant stream of messages of support. My Facebook posts are well received and replying to the comments keeps me occupied.

Hospitals have gone through some incredible changes over the forty years of my career. This hospital is remarkable. Its huge, looks like an airport, has robots to transport food and do the occasional bit of surgery.

It’s a far cry from the old much loved Frenchay where I worked for thirty years and lived in for several of those. Frenchay was like a village community, friendly, happy, cheerful. It had a lively social club with football, hockey and cricket teams. The grounds were superb with old well-established trees and its own Nature reserve. Patients would be rolled outside in their beds in the Summer. Happy days.

Every year, at Christamas, we would hold a review, an old hospital tradition, a sketch show where certain hospital personalities could be lampooned and us amateur thespians could perform. Renowned for their robust adult humour, often black in nature, sometimes very surreal, they were performed in the old Recreation Hall, the Rec. So established was this tradition, that the Rec had a proper stage, complete with back stage area, changing rooms and velveteen curtains. We always had a band, and various hospital technicians would act as sound engineers and special effects gurus.

On Facebook I post

Is it too soon for this again?

Thirty years ago, on my thirtieth birthday, as an encore, myself, my very bestest friend and best man at my wedding, Alex Massey and a surgical SHO, Jason, performed the infamous hat dance. A video of this on You Tube has had 30,000 views

Covid Carers

Perhaps the cruellest aspect of all is the separation of seriously ill people from their loved ones.

Those who care for the poorly pay a high price for their devotion whether they are professional carers or relatives. The isolation is demoralising for all concerned, painful for patients and families, a constant emotional drain on staff.

The detrimental effect on communication of not having relatives directly involved in patient care, especially in the elderly, must affect the consultation, and lead to a lack of advocacy and promotion of individual needs.

Not to mention with Covid you die alone, with no family member to sit with you

This from my good friend Nick Self (with his permission)

Hi Mike, It's been really difficult to see you in that predicament because my father passed away from Covid on 9th May. I read all your posts and found them really helpful to try and make sense of this crazy virus. When you say you wake up in the middle of the night and Covid comes creeping in, he does that for me too and I don't even have the damn virus! You have no idea how helpful and soothing your posts have been over the last couple of weeks, even though it was you that was going through it.

For the professional carers it’s no easier

This from one of the nurses on 26 b with her permission

We have had three die this week, there’s another that probably won’t last the morning. You get a sense of the inevitability of it, that nothing can prevent it, nothing can stop it. There comes a point where it’s obvious the therapy isn’t working and you kind of emotionally let go. It makes you feel completely inadequate. I really struggle to be compassionate. I start every day with fear that I have Covid and end every day with fear I will bring it home and maybe it will be one of my family that’s led there.

Cruel Covid