As I explained in my previous blog, I was told in January that the operation to repair my broken leg last summer had failed and I needed urgent surgery.
I was informed that two consultants at the Great Western Hospital (GWH) in Swindon had had to clear their diaries for what could be an all-day operation. They would remove my original hip replacement, install a new one and put a piece of metal down past the fracture in my femur (upper leg bone).
Three days later, one of the consultants phoned me. There was a problem. Because I had arthritis as a child, I have narrow bones, and they didn’t have a prosthesis small enough to fit me. They had decided that better results would be achieved by a different operation and were referring me to the Nuffield Orthopaedic Centre in Oxford.
This is a centre of excellence but I viewed the change in plans with some trepidation. I would have preferred to be in my local hospital, not one an hour’s drive away. However, if it was for the best, then so be it.
I asked about transport but none was available. So, it was going to have to be a DIY job.
It turned out I was actually being sent to the Manor Hospital, a private concern run by Nuffield Health which, nevertheless, does take on some NHS work. While they were happy to accept the ECG and other test results provided by the Great Western Hospital, they insisted on doing their own Covid test before they would admit me. This meant that I had to pay a driver to take my assistant Mary and me to Oxford the week before the proposed admission for a test that had already been carried out by GWH.
Oh well, who am I to question the strange ways of hospital bureaucracy?
Thankfully, the Covid showed that I was free of infection so my niece kindly drove Mary and me to Oxford the day I was admitted. Once again, because of Covid regulations, Mary couldn’t stay with me and, of course, I couldn’t have visitors so, once she had handed me over at reception, I was all on my own.