I was supposed to go home Monday after a weekend of resting and being observed, however I ruined my chances of that when I had the chest pain again every early on Monday morning. Having been told off for ignoring it, I was a good girl and reported it to the midwife on duty. One ECG later a tired looking doctor came into my room and told me that it was, judging by the description skeletal-muscular in origin rather than a heart attack, palpitations or a pulmonary embolism. However if I had any more I was to press the buzzer by my bed to report it (I walked down to the nurses’ station with the first one) Monday morning while waiting to see when I was going to have an Ultrasound scan so that I could go home, I got the pains again. Cue another ECG and tired looking doctor in scrubs talking me through the results and the next steps, though as his speciality was gyne he would have to get one of his “medical” colleagues to confirm this with me.
The next steps were a chest x-ray and ultrasound of my legs to check for blood clots, if there were none there it was highly unlikely that I had a “PE” to rule out a heart attack they would have to wait about 12 hours to take a blood sample which would show if I had one. That 12 hour wait put the kibosh on me going home on Monday.
Having one’s legs ultrasounded is icky, warm gel squirted over the length from ankle to groin, it felt spectacularly wrong and no doubt looked it.
The bloods were taken by an incredible efficient Russian doctor who had the needle in my left arm almost before I had the chance to point out I was left handed and could the blood be taken from the right arm please.
The results of the tests trickled back over the next few hours – no sign of clots so the risk of it being an embolish are very small and the blood test was negative.
This morning I was packed ready to go at 8:15, I didn’t get discharged until 18:45, We complicated cases have our individual consultants who are the primary contacts for our care. Our consultants are busy being on call/in theatre/clinics/consulting with colleagues/having cups of coffee and a bit of a breather before the next thing so despite chasing and nagging by the lead midwife on the ward, we poor inpatients are not necessarily the highest priority especially if its just a case of OKing our discharge. It’s not an idea situation at all, but to put a spin on it, even though I was bored out of my tiny skull I did manage to get more rest.
But it’s so nice to be home, put Tom to bed, a happy smiley, tired and kissy Tom too. And to be able to sit on the sofa and give my husband a proper cuddle.