Skull Traction Memories

Mr Ravichanrdran was on the phone.He seemed rather worried.

"Can you take a newly injured C2/3 from A&E....she's a fall down the stairs?" he asked carefully

We had the staff, and we had the bed, so the admission of a patient without any paralysis, on the surface seemed pretty routine.

 (For everyone's information a high C2 fracture is what is commonly called the "hangman's fracture because when is occurs the spinal cord can be totally transected causing a paralysis that stops every muscle group below the level of the injury from working  including the patient's ability to breath)

The initial treatment for someone with a severe fracture dislocation of their neck is often the insertion of a somewhat barbaric looking contraption called  gardener wells skull traction. This is screwed directly into the skull and provides a way of applying an opposing traction to the fracture site, It is an effective method of maintaining spinal alignment , reducing pain and can effectively prevent any further neurological damage.)

"Has the patient got traction on?" I asked our consultant.

"Yes," he said, " I have just put it on", he then hesitated for a moment and added " she is also, unfortunately eight and half months pregnant"

An hour later, as senior nurse on the unit, I had taken possession of this unfortunate woman, who was indeed not only massively pregnant, but incredibly confused due to the toxic effect of some medication she had been taking. 

Immediately I felt out of my depth

A confused patient on skull traction is a nightmare, for compliance with strict, calm bedrest is vital for further injury and paralysis not to occur. This woman was pulling at her traction, her hair and the bed in an effort to get up she was incapable of any rational thought and had no idea that. further damage to her neck, could have resulted in her literally dying on the spot.

I did , the only thing I could have done, I climbed onto the bed and held the woman down at the same time as one of the staff nurses ran for medical help.

By the time, a consultant had turned up, the woman had pulled out big lumps of my hair, but was still safely on the bed, and by the time the obstetrician and midwife marched into the room my uniform epaulets had been ripped off and my arms were scratched to buggery.

The patient then kicked the obstetrician hard in the chest, and she flew, shrieking like a chicken through the bedside curtains with her white coat flapping. 

The whole thing was getting  all rather surreal

Then ,I started to get just a little unprofessional at the group of doctors whispering at the foot of the patient's bed.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE CAN ONE OF YOU DOOOOO SOMETHING!" I hissed

It was then that the midwife tapped me on the shoulder and with a slightly worried look she whispered, something that I really didnt want to hear........

"Oh Bollocks......I think she's in labour"

Then...thankfully, I woke up.

It's a long, long time since I have experienced such a vivid  work based dream.

And it is fourteen years since that woman was admitted to my ward

As far as I know, the woman is now still walking , healthy and intact in the community

Her daughter will now be a stroppy teenager

Chill Out

This vintage and and rather naîve embroidered picture sits to the side of our fireplace.

I have always been struck with the simplicity of its message

To me it says, drop the pessimism and the worry

It's a bleeding waste of energy

If anyone knows the origin of the saying

I would be interested in hearing it.

What Do You Hear?

Today's blog is a bit of an experiment.
Don't worry I haven't gone all Avant-garde on you all......
I have only been thinking  that the sense of hearing, is perhaps the one I take the most for granted.
After a some what backbreaking watering of "bosoms" and an equally tiring " wound check" of Bingley's arse, I sat down to record a brief snap shot of today's Trelawnyd sound bite.

Now if you want to join in.....turn up your volume, play the video but DON'T WATCH IT....
It's piss boring anyhow, only having George rolling about in the grass to watch.... But I am interested in what you can hear!
There's the low drone from the traffic  of the A55, the main road into North Wales....and that is four miles inland!....wild bird song, the murmur and chatter from a passing hen, Bingley's gobble, mutterings from the geese, a distant motorbike,crows in the distance...........perhaps a faraway plane on its decent into Manchester........
How many times do we look..... But not listen?
Just a thought....

The Garden at Dusk

We have a tiny cottage back garden, and an even smaller front garden, but in May and June, it does look at its best

The planting is haphazard and in places untidy

It's a pity, the garden is not always like this

But it kind of suits our old lady sense of style

The aubritia I planted on the church wall last year is doing well
It makes me feel that our garden extends way beyond the garden wall

Village News

In my somewhat limited experience, Old Welsh farmers are not sentimental sort of folk.
Having said this, if that Brian Blessed type character that was the RFWF ( the red faced welsh farmer) was gazing down on the village from his heavenly red landrover, he would be beaming his round, big red faced grin today as his son Ed was voted into his old place on the village community council.

The elections for counsellor took place yesterday and the turnout for a small village of under  500 souls was pretty good by all accounts, a fact that pleasantly surprised me. The  election of a younger bloke with a farming background will be an asset to the council and hopefully when more vacancies do eventually become free, then more women will perhaps take an interest. I would like us to shake the "Dad's Army" type image, councils' so often tend to foster.

Anyhow.......Well done Ed.... Your dad would have been tickled pink!

It's been a week of village meetings. Wednesday we finalised " who is doing what" at the Flower Show Committee meeting in Auntie Glad's kitchen and yesterday me and one of the Gwaenysgor Councillors met up with a web site designer to discuss developing their village website into a joint site with Trelawnyd.
I had to laugh when the rather chic middle aged lady web designer pointed excitedly at my Walking Dead  T shirt with a " ohhhhhhh I Lurve The Walking Dead......... who is your favourite character ?" Comment..........
It's a small world.
Anyhow, all is well with Bingley, as all the trials and tribulations of yesterday now seem to be forgotten. Thanks to all that left their good wishes
I have treated him today to a tin of cheap dog food, which he bolted down with some gusto and obvious delight...presently he is dozing in the sun, not far from the ducklings who are out enjoying the spring day

A Turkey On The Back Seat

Sore but well behaved

It's been a bit of a surreal morning all told.

Somehow Bingley got himself jabbed in the arse by one of the fence poles surrounding Bosoms during which he sustained a rather nasty puncture wound. A wound that, in my opinion needed a stitch. 

The vet practice I go to is ten miles from Trelawnyd, so without much thought, I placed a Marks & Spencer carrier bag on the back seat of the Berlingo, plonked Bingley onto it and set off to the vets.

Now I wasn't sure if  Gorgeous George Clooney was on duty this morning, but I did make a bit of an effort and put on my best Walking Dead T shirt on before motoring on inland, just in case...

Bingley , bless his little cotton socks is thick as mince, and so, to me, it wasn't at all strange that he sat quite calmly during the whole journey, gazing out of the window, seemingly enjoying the whole experience despite his injury. He was good as gold, when the 13 year old vet stitched his wound ( well he was wrapped up tightly in a blanket to make sure) and he didn't batter an eyelid when we stopped at a butchers on the way home ( the same butchers that dispatched the pigs last year as it happened) in order for me to buy a proper country scotch egg for my lunch.

I was just getting back into the Berlingo, when a passing woman stopped short and said rather incredulously in her best Lady Bracknell voice

" Is that a TURKEY on the back seat?"

" Yes" I said brightly" he does so love a trip out when it's sunny"

And with that I drove off.......

Election Fever

It's all go in Trelawnyd. Tomorrow is Election Day where the population of the village has the opportunity to vote in a new Community Councillor. The two candidates have canvassed their CV's and quite clearly both men would  be an asset to the council as they seem level headed, community orientated and very much their own 'men' so to speak.

I wish them both well, 

A few weeks ago, I embarked on a very rough straw poll of locals and their general knowledge of what the community council was all about. Out of around fifty people I asked, only four knew the name of just one community councellor from the village, a fact that really does speak for itself .

In these days of ' insular living' and community apathy, many dont see the relevance of such a small and local strata of local government, so I think that the fact that two local and popular men are presently making the effort to engage the village is a laudable and timely ' kick up the arse' for many.

I have just drafted a brief newsletter on behalf of the council, outlining whose who and what's what.... on  the council and what's happening in both villages .It's a simple PR exercise, nothing more, but hopefully it may spark a bit of community involvement that has been hiding away in more recent times. 

Who knows....

Anyhow... I will leave you with a community based observation. Yesterday I visited with Eirlys,a friend who has a chicken farm a mile or so out of the village. She mentioned that she had just bought a load of Flower Show raffle tickets from a " sprightly old lady" who in her summer dress, had walked the few miles around country lanes to buttonhole the houses and farms on the periphery of the village.

I had to smile to myself..... auntie Glad had been at work again....I bet she has sold most of her allocation of  several hundred tickets whereas we the younger members of the Flower Show committee have not even started selling our own bundles.....The community Councillor to be, take note........ You

 should have employed the old gal as your PA. ........

The Watcher

It's not a good photo but if you look very closely

You will see a pair of button black eyes watching every move I make.We all came back to the cottage at quarter to ten, just after the last hen tottered into her hen house, and as I watched some mindless tv, I could spy the old gal of our menagerie, the welsh terrier Meg

following every sigh, comment and every fart from her position on the couch

The older she gets the more needy our old lady becomes. In twenty minutes she will be curled up under my chin, happy at being a knat's crotchet away from my beating heart.

Now she will watch me with the tenacity of a furry limpet

Willing me to go to bed with her under my arm like a needy roll of lino

Her loyalty is all rather touching

Her anxious neediness breaks my heart