Countess of Chester Hospital

After having spent pretty much an entire day in the local hospital, it was time to visit another one. I was a bit disappointed that we couldn't just make an appointment. We knew exactly what was the issue, and Ysbyty Gwynedd would send through all the documentation; why couldn't the hospital decide when they had time to deal with this? But no; we would have to just go to accident and emergency again. So be it.

We got ready. The next step was to try to get Tim into my car. We had practised with different cars, but mine is a three-doors; it turns out that that is harder. And he had his own car here as well, of course, but I wasn't insured on it, so we couldn't take that.

When we came hobbling out of the house, one of the men working on Neuadd Ogwen appeared. He saw the situation and immediately offered to help. That was lovely of him! He said he had broken his leg himself somewhere in the past, and knew what it was like. And with his help we were soon on our way.

We got there ok, and made our way to A&E. After not too much time we were called through. We were put in a different waiting room. Not much happened. Tim decided to have a sandwich. By the time they would consider surgery, he would probably count as sober again. A fair while later we were called into a consultation room. The whole process started again! The information from Bangor, including X-rays, hadn’t come through. But the lady who dealt with us phoned some people, including X-Ray, and after a while a new image was produced. And an orthopaedic surgeon would come talk. 

After a while that came true. A lady walked over, introduced herself, and asked him one question: when head he last eaten something? He gave an honest answer, and she walked away again. I figured that was bad news.

A while later she came back in the company of an additional surgeon. They said that they could have operated on him right away if he had been sober. Bummer! But now they would see if they could do it tomorrow. And that was the best bet we had. 

Tim decided there was no point in both of us hanging around. I was a bit reluctant; we had spent the time in the waiting room with him in a wheelchair, with his leg resting on the armrest of a chair. And me in the chair, guarding the leg. Would he be okay without someone doing that? But he was probably right. They would hopefully put him in a bed soon. I could go home and do something else with my day. So I left.

The next day I got a text in the morning. He was second in the queue for surgery! And then I heard nothing for a while. I hoped that meant the surgery was happening, but then I got a text a few hours later. They had knocked him out, opened the cast, decided they couldn't do the surgery because his leg was in too bad a shape, and just put a new cast on. He was ready for collection!

This was not what I had hoped for, but I did mean that that sandwich the day before hadn’t made any difference. They wouldn't have deemed his leg good enough for surgery anyway!

I had some teaching to do that day, so when that was finished I got in the car and headed back east. As I would get there after regular opening hours I had to collect him from a separate wing. That went very smoothly! A kind lady buzzed the door open for me, and took me straight to him. In seconds we were out. And it was immediately clear he was a lot more mobile with this new cast than he had previously been. That at least was progress!

On the way back we went past his house to get him his laptop and an additional book, some additional clothes and toiletries, a whole bunch of cushions for his leg, and the contents of his fridge in as far as they needed eating before he expected to be back again. And then we were on our way back to Bethesda.

The next step would be that they would send a letter to his house that gave him an appointment. I thought that was rather silly! They hadn't been willing to discharge him unless into the hands of a responsible adult (yes that was me). They knew he wasn't going home. Why send snail mail to a building they know he won't be in? But at least he knew what number to phone to get the necessary information that way. And in the meantime he needed to try to put me on his car insurance, so I could bring him back in his own vehicle.

All of that could wait, though. By the time we got home it wasn't far off bedtime again! And he hadn't had a particularly good night of sleep in the hospital. So getting some rest had priority, and any snazzy organisation would have to wait until the next day. Or the next. He was clearly not going anywhere for a while!

Countess of Chester Hospital