Me, my hand, and the perpetrator
On the eve of Sunday 24th November, I decided to take matters into my own hands and tackle the mundane task known as recycling. Living in a student house, you can imagine the masses of cardboard, plastic and glass that had found refuge in the conservatory. It wasn’t the prettiest sight to be held, nor was it much of a conversation starter. The great thing about student houses is that you can get away with more under the guise of being ‘students’. The normal conventions of society go out of the window and living amongst empty vodka bottles seems to be the more aesthetic choice.
I was nearly done when I slipped on an empty box of Frosties that had been a centerpiece since I moved in. Instinctively I reached forward, grabbing at the air to catch myself.
And then I met a tin can in its natural habitat: the middle of the conservatory floor. In a matter of seconds, I found my palm slit open and the contents of it playing peekaboo.
An arrangement of tin cans, and more specifically, the lids – proven to be lethal
‘999 is for life-threatening emergencies like serious road traffic accidents, strokes and heart attacks’ ,states the NHS website.
I didn’t think my injury was serious enough for that, so called 111 instead.
After a long winded relay race of my information, the operator told me to call 999. And so, the back and forth ping pong match between the two lines passing me to each other began. This was my first instance of unclear communication between the emergency services and the public, a sector which I believe should have communication as a priority.
Unknown to myself at the time, I had severed two arteries in my hand. I was bleeding out and required an ambulance, one that never arrived. I was told that one would be sent to my address at the earliest convenience.
According to the NHS, ambulances aim to arrive within an ‘8 minute target.’ The services are measured on the ‘time it takes from receiving a 999 call to the vehicle arriving at the patients location.
There are four categories for emergency response callouts. Category 1 is the most severe and requires urgent care, with 90% of ambulances aiming to arrive within 15 minutes of contact.
The incident occurred at 6.30pm, with frequent calls being made to 111 and 999 from three different people. I had two calls from a private NHS number, where the operator instructed me and my housemates through creating a tourniquet – a common medical practice used to cut circulation to a part of the body to minimize blood flow. This was nearly two hours after I had began loosing blood.
After ruining my housemates’ scarf and armed with a wooden spoon to create pressure, I was fortunate enough that one of my housemates had a car. In my latest contact with the response service at the time, I was informed it could be up to four hours before services would arrive at my location.
After repainting half of the hallway, the bathtub, a bathmat, approximately 10 tea towels and a pair of slippers, I made it to Truro A&E at 9.15pm, where I defiled the building with a trail leaking behind me.
I was lucky enough that despite a full A&E that night, I was seen within 15 minutes of signing in at reception.
I was receiving treatment until 1am ,where I was then admitted to a ward overnight with the intention of emergency surgery the following morning. I spent the evening entirely alone and without a blanket or any source of comfort, I was still unsure about what was happening, but found that the staff themselves were friendly and pleasant, a trait that I really valued at that time.
‘Hospitals aren’t designed to be comfortable, they’re designed to get you in and get you out’, said one of my friends who had come to collect my pale body from the ward. With this in mind, having a friendly face in the NHS is a key component to the success of it. People shouldn’t feel alone in an intimidating environment, and the staff’s attitude can make or break someone’s experience in a clinical space.
What I believed would be a quick and easy procedure turned out to be a four hour intense surgery. I was discharged later that day, with a follow up appointment being arranged. I had no way of getting home as I had no money or belongings and it was only when my housemate offered that I had a safe, secure way home.
NHS ward wall sign, was difficult to locate ‘hand clinic’ without asking for clear direction of unit.
When it came to the discharge, there was a lot of confusion between myself and even the staff on if I could go or not, and I still did not have any clue about the extent of the injury or the surgery. I left with more questions than answers and it wasn’t until my 2nd appointment at St Michaels Hospital, located in Hayle, that I got the answers.
It turned out I had torn through one tendon, 70% of another tendon, had two digital artery repairs and had severely damaged the nerves in my middle and ring finger – which explained why I couldn’t feel them. (As of this publication, I still have no feeling in the right side of my middle finger and left side of my ring finger.)
Overall, I was very lucky under the circumstances, but it could have been a very different story if I did not have my own form of transport available to me. NHS services are seeing a phenomenon known as the ‘four hour wait’, which refers to the average A&E wait times patients can expect between arrival and departure/admission to ward.
In many instances, time is a crucial component of treatment. More cases of ambulance delays are becoming common practice, with one family being ‘told there would be a four to seven hour wait for an ambulance, and that was after they had already been waiting two hours for an ambulance to arrive’. Labour MP Jo Stevens voiced her concerns around the NHS, and its wait times, in parliament earlier this month.
And to any students reading this, please stay on top of the recycling.