NHS nose best

On 29 August 2009, I was attempting to play cricket and had a cricket ball smash into my face. For those of you who aren't aware of the rules of cricket, this is not what is supposed to happen in cricket.

I was bleeding from the nose and a cut above my left eyebrow. Anyway, an ambulance was called out, they examined me and, because I'm such a brave trooper, I opted to not go to the hospital, but instead drove home, throwing up only once on the way home.

On 31 August my nose started bleeding again and my girlfriend insisted that we head down to A & E, to have it checked out.

After a thirty minute wait, I had a young doctor have a look at my nose and shined a light in my eye. He said that all looks fine and he'll just double check with the senior doctor on duty, if it's okay to send me home.

He returned about thirty minutes later to tell me that the senior would like me to take a precautionary CT scan. Doctors know best, so thirty minutes later I was led to radiology and my head was made radio-active. About thirty minutes later, the young doctor returned with the results of the scan, I had a skull fracture above my left eye and there was internal bleeding. I was then examined by another doctor, who told me that my nose was broken, but as it appeared to not be out of shape, I didn't need to worry about this. The doctor then booked an appointment for me to see a broken skull doctor in three days time.

Two days later and I have another nose bleed, this one is more of a fountain than a leaking tap, so off to A & E again. I'm told to pinch my nose to stop the bleeding. I tell them between gasps that this just redirects the blood flow down my throat. So they get a bucket and put it under my mouth while I lose over a litre of blood in half an hour. There's a junior doctor type person holding the bucket whose job is to look on the bright side of life. He calmly remarks, "Your blood looks a healthy colour." I say "Good to know", spraying blood over his trousers. He stops talking to me.

Eventually another doctor arrives with a device called a "pack" which is designed to stop nose bleeds after it's shoved to the back of the the nose and down my throat. This pack looks like a small tampon, but feels like a tank when it's shoved up a broken, bleeding nose. The doctor who performs this operation isn't happy with his first attempt, so pulls it out again and shoves another one up my burning, bloody nostril again. Even though the right nostril isn't bleeding, he decides to shove a pack up that nostril too. The bleeding stops. Hooray.

I'm then taken to a little room to monitor my vitals. This is a room where I'm ignored and my vitals aren't monitored. It appears to be more of a place to clean the blood off my face, as I was scaring the other people in A & E.

While waiting in this room, I'm informed that I'll have to be seen by an ENT (Ear nose and throat specialist), but they didn't have one at the hospital I went to, so they'll have to transfer me to St Bart's hospital. They've arranged for an ambulance to take me there within the next hour.

Four hours later and after waiting in three different rooms and one corridor, an ambulance driver appears in my new ward calling out my name, as there's no staff available to tell him where I am. I raise my weak hand, to let him know that I'm the patient he needs to rush over to another hospital before I die. He grabs my chart and says, "Follow me." Hooray! Walking!

I'm taken to the outside of his ambulance, where he informs me that he doesn't have the keys and he has to go look for his mate, who probably has the keys. I'm left in the hospital's main reception, in a hospital gown, in front of the main doors, where a lovely breeze in quite rapidly lowering my body temperature. This is probably standard procedure to help stop the bleeding. About thirty minutes later, the keys are found and I'm rushed to the waiting ENT specialist... after he drops a mate off at home first.

I arrive at St Bart's hospital and informed that they didn't know I was coming and I've probably been brought to the wrong ward. I'm asked to stand around until they can find somebody who knows something about anything or anything about something, I forget which.

I'm then informed that I was in fact at the correct ward and that they'll put me in a bed. Hooray! I finally get to lie down again.

Within an hour of being in my new ward, the ENT specialist arrives and tells me that he can't do anything, because the packs have to stay in for 24 hours before they can be removed and he can examine me.

So looks like I'm stuck in hospital until the next day. Wrong! He doesn't work on Thursdays, and does surgery on Friday morning, so he'll only be able to examine me on Friday afternoon.

What can I do? He's the specialist. He knows best. Let's fight through the next 48 hours and get this sorted.

Thursday comes and goes through pain killers and self-pity.

Friday finally arrives and I look forward to having the specialist return and make the world a better for a sad muppet. The specialist of course doesn't show up and Doctor Nick from the Simpson's removes my packs. He's happy that there's no further bleeding and says that I can go home. What? Isn't somebody supposed to examine me and tell me why I'm bleeding so much? Isn't this the reason, I've been kept in this ward for an additional 24 hours?

Dr Nick looks at my chart and sees that I was admitted because my nose was bleeding, but my nose isn't bleeding anymore. This means his job is done. I'm tired and weak and I'm still on pain killers and I want to go home. I go home.

I'm rescheduled to go see the broken skull doctors and an eye doctor back at the original hospital I went to in three days time.

Three days later and I haven't had any nose bleeds and I'm off to see the eye doctor. I arrive at the hospital's main reception and ask where the eye doctor's building is. Reception informs me that they've given me the wrong details and that I have to go to their ENT clinic first. Fine, let's go there. Of course there's nobody at the ENT clinic and a nurse tells me that they're probably on lunch, but will be back shortly. Thirty minutes later, a nurse from ENT tells me that they can't help me because there's no ENT clinic today. I tell him that I was supposed to go to the eye doctor today, but reception sent me to them. ENT informs me that I couldn't go to the eye doctor today, because their clinic isn't open today either. Come back tomorrow.

I go home and have another nose bleed. My girlfriend returns from work to find me bleeding and we head off to A & E for the third time. By the time I finally get seen at A & E, the bleeding has stopped. The A & E doctor says that they don't have an ENT specialist, but he could get me admitted to St Bart's who will probably just pack my nose. I opt to go home.

We decide that it's time to go private, but for the private health care doctor to see me, he'll need to see my CT scan. How difficult could it be to get a copy of my own CT scan? After a few calls to different departments, I'm finally put through to radiology who inform me that I have to go come to their department, fill out a request form, pay £25 and merely wait two weeks for my copy of the CT scan to be done. Private doctor plans are put on hold.

Two days later and I'm off to see the NHS's broken skull doctor. He informs me that my skull will heal by itself, over the next three months, but interestingly he shows me a picture of my nose from my CT scan which shows a bone pointing sharply to the left inside my nose and informs me that this is most probably the reason for my nose bleeds. I tell skull doctor my NHS sob story and the reason why I can't go see a private doctor. Skull doctor apologises on behalf of the NHS and says he'll organise a copy for me that day, which he does! I can now go private! Hooray.

Private:
- Examination.
- Will need surgery, in six weeks time, if bleeding stops.
- That weekend, more bleeding.
- Monday, surgery and private room for recovery.

So looks like I'm over the worst of it. I still have to go see the eye doctor at the NHS, but what's the worst that could possibly happen when I go see them?