The consultant who diagnosed gout told us they wouldn’t usually admit someone with gout. Unfortunately he couldn’t allow us to take the Goldfish home at that point as he was well through being processed into the system and, because it was Friday night he wouldn’t be discharged until Monday.
Our offer to come in to help the Goldfish eat his meals was accepted though they said not to bother coming in for breakfast as they had enough staff. The DH went in on the Saturday to help with lunch.
He returned, spitting nails. He’d arrived shortly before 11.30 and found the Goldfish in the ward we did not want him in. Not only that, he’d had no breakfast and nothing to drink. When the DH asked a nurse about his medication she’d smiled, saying: “Oh, he was sleeping so peacefully. Thought it best just to let him sleep.” He succeeded in getting the Goldfish transferred to another ward – though his lunch disappeared during the move.
We kept thinking about the wonderful nurse who had spent so much time gathering information on how we deal with the Goldfish when he’s in one of his ‘sleep-mode’ days, ensuring he gets his meds and food. The poor woman could have knocked off work at her usual time because everything she recorded was ignored.
I recorded in my diary that evening: “I’m on a downer about everything right now: the Goldfish being in hospital, not doing any writing, our lives being totally disrupted. Everything sucks right now.”
The staff on the new ward started the medication for the gout and when I went in next day the Goldfish was sitting up, wide awake and very alert. Yay for steroids! The pain was greatly reduced. We looked at magazines while waiting for his lunch to arrive. It was lovely to see him smiling. He ate well – mince and potatoes followed by apple tart and custard. He was still on excellent form and with a good appetite in the evening.
Diary entry: “The Goldfish is bright and cheerful and should be home tomorrow. Not a bad day all round.”