Despair Sets In

For a person who is aiming so hard to always 'keep it together' it came as a terrible and immense
shock to suddenly find myself whisked out of the environment that I had built for myself over the past 8 months, had been taken away and I now found myself lying in a hospital bed, in an
orthopedic ward, unable to get up alone, feeling helpless and traumatized.

I was afraid to fall asleep, this was not because of the operation and side effect of the anesthesia,
but a constant reliving of my fall and lying alone on the cold floor unable to secure contact with
anyone! Every time I closed my eyes I could envision the state of my foot after my fall, and that
totally freaked me out! Even with constant reassurances that it was over, it in fact took me almost two weeks to finally be able to blot that picture out of my mind.

The hospital itself is building new premises that will be finished in two years, but for the present
the building itself, although equipped with all the top facilities, is inadequate to hold the population of Jerusalem and its surroundings today. The orthopedic ward has two departments
and a number of rooms, but only one room that is reserved only for women!! This seems
totally ridiculous and chauvanistic, as if to say that only fractures are reserved for the male
species, but as we know, unfortunately, falls are common in the elderly and in time my ward
of 5, would have 2 and 3 ladies of the golden age in it!!

The ward was square, with 2 beds lining the walls on either side and one placed centrally
in front of the window that led to an open balcony. This particular bed was set facing the
door and had little or no privacy allocated to it. Each bed had its own set of surrounding
curtains, a bedside table, plastic chair for visitors and a large wooden armed comfortable chair,
for day use by the patient. The pieces of furniture were placed side by side next to the bed
so that there was adequate room for visitors and patient not to feel claustrophobic, but the
centre one, was not awared this luxury, and except for the bed itself, each piece was placed
like a train, one in front of the other, making it squashy and uncomfortable both for visitor and
patient alike.

The centre bed also faced the open door of the ward and when the curtains would be closed,
it became such a small area, that it was stuffy and humid, so forcing the person to reopen the
drapes, only to become a central television for all those passing by. This was to be my home
for the next few days. Added to this discomfort was the fact that I felt so alone. I had no
telephone (I had left my Israeli phone in China), not adequate toiletries, nighties or way to
contact anyone to tell them that I was in Israel and my wonderful daughter was forced to
rush back and forth trying to keep my spirits up whilst I was lying there in a state of despair
and misery.

I must explain that it was not my predicament of my leg that bothered me so bad, as to the
fact that I felt so disorientated and cut off. On top of that the conditions and placement of my
bed did nothing to help. In my ward on my right was an elderly woman, who was constantly
surrounded by her curtains and only moaning could be heard. In the next bed, was a religious
woman, who had a large number of children, grandchildren and an unbelievable 103 great
grandchildren, so her bed was constantly an activity of visitors and noise.

To my left was a young soldier that was recovering from an accidental self inflicted bullet wound that was surrounded by family and friends 24/7 that was wonderful for her, but their constant
boisterous behavior was constantly pushing into my limited space to the point that I felt that
if the plastic chair, armchair, bedside table would be all placed on my bed, I would be better
off lying on top of them, I would probably have more room to breathe, as well as space to move.

As for my last room occupant, she was a little older than myself, had hurt her knee and was
in constant pain and a non stop stream of complaint. She had taken a surgeon privately to
undertake her operation and the nurses, even though more often than not, unwilling, paid
attention to her needs, more than to others, because of her connection.

As for myself, I was miserable, sad, exposed and weepy, I found myself in a situation not of my
choosing, unable to rectify my position and unable to control the flow of tears at my lack of
privacy.

The next day I was to meet the doctor and I was waiting to see what news that would bring.

Do They Know What They Are Doing??

It is a terrible thing to say, especially when you are feeling so vulnerable, not to have faith in your anaesthesiologist, but I didn't. I know that Hadassah is a teaching hospital and my own
daughter is studying there to be a doctor, but when you are the patient, waiting to be put under,
scared and feeling small (even if you are not), it is very frightening to lie there and know that
the minute they put the drip in your arm, you are not in control any longer.

For those who know me personally, you know that I am someone who is highly independent and
always try to be in command of myself and my situation, but here I find myself alone, on an
uncomfortable bed, in a lying down position, in a gown that was open at the back, listening to
a discussion about how much I would need to put me under, by someone who was having
difficulty in understanding what was being said to him, or making himself understood due to
a language barrier!!! I would not used the word terrified, but I would say that I was truly worried about the outcome of the situation. Whilst lying there alone in this narrow corridor,
next to oxygen pumps and theatre equipment, I was desperately praying for someone to come
who could speak Hebrew or even English!!

I could see through the door 'my' surgeon fiddling with equipment, trying to make himself look
busy, but succeeding in looking totally inefficient. I was scared. Whilst holding down the bile
of fear that was rising in my throat, I made the decision to absolutely protest against any action
until I was 100% sure that I was in capable hands Don't get me wrong, I do not believe for a
second that the hospital employs incompetents, but just that language ability is so important
not only to be able to understand what is going on, but to also transfer the relevant information
required.

To my rel lief, a senior member of staff appeared, he seemed so by his demeanor and way that
he took over, besides to my relief he spoke a language that I could understand!! Seeing the
fear on my face, he immediately understood and assured me that I was in capable hands,
answered my questions and before I could count 99,98 I was asleep!!

I awoke in the recovery room, with my daughter standing by my side, my leg had been reset
and now it was time for me to be transferred to the Orthopedic Ward where I would stay till
the next stage of my treatment and recovery. But little did I know what was awaiting me there
or how miserable I was about to become.

A Long Day!

We arrived at the hospital, the oldest and most famous in Jerusalem, Israel known as Hadassah
Ein Kerem, during the early hours of the morning and were taken straight into the Emergency
Ward area. If any of you have unfortunately spent time in an emergency room, you know how
long and tiring that can be, but in truth nothing prepared us (my daughter and myself) for what
was in fact waiting for us!

It was packed, as if being sick was something that you receive a financial prize for, by the amount of guests that were visiting there. Every age, possible ailment, fracture,[pain was waiting anxiously for attention, support and help.

Our day started off patiently waiting to see the doctor, then the orthopedic specialist, then
to have an x ray, plaster and finally finding a bed to check into. It was difficult and I could not
have endured that day as well as the ones to come, without the help of my daughter, who left
her baby and husband and stayed by my side the whole time.

There is no question that being in a hospital is frightening, for you are surrounded by people who are in great pain, suffering both noisily and quietly and the staff, is rushed and trying to help,\
although at times impatient. It is hard when you are involved to understand both sides, because
the patient is uncomfortable, lying on a bed not meant for long stay, scared, in pain, wants a
solution on the spot and on the other hand the doctors are rushed, willing to administer pain
relief, but constantly awaiting results either of blood tests, x rays, scans or whatever.

Of course having broken my leg in Beijing and being rushed emergency helped add to my
celebrity status, but did nothing to push me forward on the list and a day was spent unwilling
to eat or drink as I was convinced that I would be rushed for emergency surgery. Finally, in
the late afternoon, an orthopedic surgeon, with little or almost non existent knowledge of Hebrew or English came to visit me. He informed me that surgery would need to be performed
but that first my leg would have to be reset as it had been set badly in China. When he took me
to the plaster room, I adamantly refused to allow them to touch it if I was not under anaesthetic
which I was later informed they would not have done anyway as the setting was too bad to touch
whilst I was awake and finally in the evening hours I was admitted to the Neurological ward.

This was such a sad place, but in truth it was quiet and after the commotion and noise of the
emergency room, a relief. I was still dressed in the clothes that I had fallen in of the previous
day and desperately wanted to have a wash and refresh myself, but this was not to be. The
staff was kind and tried to make me comfortable, even though they admitted that they were
not equipped to deal with a break or fracture. That night a sign was hung on my bed saying
FAST as I was to be operated on early the next morning.

The following day, which was Saturday, the Jewish Sabbath, is not a day that is usually set aside
for operations, as it is supposed to be a day of rest and the hospital is short staffed, though
Sunday is an ordinary working day once again. But, I was given to understand that this was
now an emergency (according to the x ray) as the bones were already starting to set, wrongly
and almost 48 hours had passed. Scared to be alone, I begged them to wait for the re-arrival
of my daughter and was taken to the theatre. There was no one there except me, the waiting
area quiet and still, with no bustle of nursing staff or doctors and I the only awaiting patient.

If you have never been through an anesthesia or operation before, it is hard to describe your trepidation at it is happening. In the past I had been put to sleep through dental surgery, but
this was different. Thankfully my daughter arrived in time, quick kiss and hug and I was
whisked off to the next stage.