Friday, June 30, 2006

 

What's in a name?

With the one or two minor exceptions that I've mentioned in some of these postings, I found the hospital staff to be wonderful, caring people. And when I needed help or reassurance, they were willing to take time out from their busy schedule to meet my needs.

In large part, this was because they were professional and out to do the best they could for their patients. However, I reckon it was also because I made a point of using their names.

As you know from my last posting (Walking The Corridors – 25 June), I kept a pocket notebook and pen beside my bed. Whenever a nurse introduced herself, I would jot down her name so that I didn’t forget. I could then use it whenever I made a comment or request.

Using a staff member’s name really does make a difference to the relationship. In fact, it's one of the points that Patricia Cameron-Hill and Dr Shayne Yates make in their wonderful book, ‘Doctor, I feel funny - How to take the stress out of being in hospital, for patients and visitors’. This is a must read for anyone going into hospital and for the close family members who will be visiting them. It’s also hilarious. Click here to read a review. It’s the perfect present for anyone prior to going into hospital or for their partner. Click here to order a copy.

Sunday, June 25, 2006

 

Walking The Corridors

While in hospital there were two tools that I kept close to me at all times. My little pocket notebook and pen and also my dictaphone. This meant that whenever I had an observation or thought it could be recorded. And if I wasn't up to writing anything down, as soon as the nurses or other staff were out of earshot, I could say it into my dictaphone. As a result, I gathered quite a few patient observations while in hospital and I'd like to share a few of these with you.

On day four or five the various tubes stuck into the front and back of me were removed. It was great to have the opportunity to be up and about with my tubes out and fascinating to see what went on outside my room. All the sounds that I'd been hearing now had more meaning.

Walking round the two corridors in my ward and the ward next to mine, I noticed something happening (or failing to happen) on both the morning and the afternoon shift. At reception and in the corridor as I shuffled along, I would be met with eye contact and a smile by any member of staff who previously had been in contact with me. If they didn't know me...blank.

Actually, looking back, that's true of the nursing staff and doctors but not of the support staff. On every occasion I was met with eye contact and a smile by support staff as they went about their work.

Doing the rounds ever so slowly in a true softshoe shuffle on my first walk by myself, I had three different nursing staff blank me out. One actually had to swerve to avoid me as she rushed round a corner, yet there was still no acknowledgement.

Then in the lounge waiting area situated outside the lifts I noticed there were some plaques up on the wall; the sort that organisations put their mission statement and other grand corporate statements on. One of them had wonderful words. Here's what it said:

Every encounter is an opportunity

Every interaction with patients at any stage in their journey provides

us with an opportunity to exceed their expectations.

· Every encounter.

· Every moment.

· Every person.

· Every day.

Now, I don't know if this was one of those typical things that senior management put together at one of their corporate love-ins or whether or not the staff were actively involved in coming up with these wonderful words. Either way, quite a number of people weren't living them on a daily basis - which is sad not just for their customers, the patients, but also for themselves. Sad because living these words would help them to feel better about themselves and certainly help their patients and colleagues feel better about themselves too.

Words are just words until we choose to live them.


Saturday, June 24, 2006

 

Absolutely No Bladder Control!

It's now over a week since I had my catheter taken out. I had imagined that after a day or so I'd be taking longer walks and having Gwen take me out to coffee shops by the river and by the ocean, both of which are close to our home in Perth.

The reality is considerably different.

My specialist had given me exercises to do to help with bladder control. He said that some people show a marked improvement within seven to ten days. But for others it can take four to six weeks or longer to get a reasonable degree of control.

Now, women tend to be more used to facing up to these challenges than men. As a result of operations relating to childbirth, prolapse, hysterectomy and the like they often have problems with their waterworks. At the health club I frequent, it's not unusual to see ladies suddenly dash out of their aerobics or pump class. I presume to make an emergency trip to the loo.

This means that they talk to one another about this stuff. Blokes don't, which means that I don't have anyone to compare war stories with....which means that I feel a bit anxious, inadequate and irritable.

It's been eight days now, and I still have virtually no control. Most of the time when I stand up and walk around it leads to a virtual waterfall! Of course, I'm wearing the equivalent of adult nappies, but it's still extremely offputting.

As a result, I do a minimal amount of walking, and today will only be my second outing to a coffee shop close by. Meanwhile, I keep practising my exercises. Hold one, two, three. Hold one, two, three!


Saturday, June 17, 2006

 

Medical Update

I saw my specialist, Mr P, yesterday, two weeks and four days after the operation.  He confirmed that the cancer appears to be contained within the prostate, which he removed.  Always a slight possibility that some microscopic nasties have snuck through but things are looking good.  This means no radiotherapy or chemotherapy required (sigh of relief!).
 
Got my catherter out too which isn't something I would want to happen every day.  For the benefit of the males reading this, I won't go into detail....it would make your eyes water. 
 
Should start getting easier now...once I learn how to control my bladder! 
 
 
 
 

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

 

Don't Mind Me

You know what it's like when you're standing in line at a supermarket and the operator is carrying on a conversation with their colleague in the next aisle; all the time processing your goods accurately and efficiently. Even though they are getting the job done, it doesn't make you feel good, does it?

To some extent we can make allowances for this, because they are typically only 16 years old, have never had explained to them that this is inappropriate behaviour and often their managers are poor role models.

I was shocked though to experience this behaviour from two mature nurses during my recent stay in hospital. I found the nurses to be friendly, helpful and professional in the way they operate with one exception. On the morning shift, on two or three occasions, I had the situation where the nurses were checking the various tubes sticking into me or doing some other regular tasks, while carrying on a conversation with one another as if I wasn't there - about studies, children, their own ailments and things going on at the hospital.

How do you think that made me feel?

Insignificant!

You see, they were oblivious to the fact that they weren’t really ‘being there’ for me. They were doing their jobs, taking good care of Jurek Leon the patient, yet ignoring Jurek Leon the person.

They were like many of us are when driving our car on a regular journey - functionally there, driving safely (hopefully) but not fully focussed.

They were missing out on what I call ‘the essence of service’: To make someone feel better about him or herself as a result of being in contact with us.

In my other life I’ve written a two-page article on this. If you'd like to read it click on The Essence Of Service.

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

 

Are You Listening?

Listening skills are vital in any customer service role. And that's certainly the case for the medical profession. While I was in hospital, I had a classic example of a senior nurse actively listening and yet doing it in an unpleasant way.

It's a mistake that experienced service providers often make. Before sharing with you what happened to me with the senior nurse, let me first explain what I mean by active listening.

We live in a busy world these days, and as a result, many people aren't particularly good at listening. They hear what the other person has to say, let them know that they've heard with comments like 'Uhu', 'I see' and the like, but they often don't confirm understanding.

Is what we think they've said, what the other person thinks they've told us?

There are two key steps to active listening -

  1. Attend to what the other person is saying. In other words, pay attention.
  2. Confirm understanding. In other words, paraphrase what the other person has said and feed this back to them in the form of a closed question. That way we can check whether or not what they think they've told us is what we think we've heard.

For example, " So, you're fine when you're on your back, but as soon as you lie on your side you feel the pain. Is that right?"

Where some experienced service providers get it wrong is that they correct rather than confirm understanding. Here's what happened to me in hospital on the Wednesday after my operation:

Nurse: " Is this Day Two for you?"

Patient: "Well, I had my operation on Monday, so it's my third day."

Nurse: "Yes, it's Day Two."

I stand corrected!

It's not a very nice feeling being corrected, especially when you're feeling a bit fragile. So, how could she have handled this more diplomatically? How about something like this?

Nurse: "Your third day? Good. Just in case anyone else asked you, we start counting from the day after your operation, so in hospital terms, this is Day Two."

Confirming understanding is a wonderful speech habit to have. The English language is just made for misunderstandings, so it really does pay to check. And most of the time, active listening demonstrates to people that you are listening and that they are important. You are taking the time to really listen to them. Where this falls down, is when officious people like the nurse in my example correct rather than confirm understanding.

First Impressions

Interestingly, my first impressions with this nurse hadn't been that great. When she first came into my room at the beginning of her shift, she was chewing. That seemed to me to be rather unprofessional.

I had this nurse on a couple of occasions. Technically, she seemed to be most competent. But I didn't take to her nearly as much as many of the other nurses. First impressions tell us a lot.



Friday, June 09, 2006

 

The Rubber Gloves Treatment

Since letting it be known that I have prostate cancer, I've been amazed and concerned by the number of males over 50 who have confided in me that they havent had a full medical check-up in years, including a check of their prostate.

The main reason for this appears to be that they are too embarrassed or too squeamish to allow themselves to be subjected to the rubber gloves treatment.

There is no doubt that we males are a squeamish lot. Women are often subjected to embarrassing and at times degrading medical examinations. Men don't have to go through this nearly as often. That's no excuse though. There is nothing macho about avoiding something that needs to happen.

The consensus seems to be that unless there is a particular problem that arises, there is no need to ask the doctor for the rubber gloves treatment until you reach the age of 50. In my case, as a result of what showed up in blood tests, I was only 44 or 45. And yes, I was squeamish. It wasn't an examination that I would have volunteered myself for.

You see, prior to that time, my only knowledge of prostate examinations was as a result of a skit I'd seen live on stage from Billy Connolly. In it, he commented, 'Once you get to 50 doctors take an unhealthy interest in you arse.' Then he went on to describe in graphic detail, as only Billy Connolly can, the rubber gloves treatment. I can assure you it's not the ideal image to have in mind for your first prostate examination.

Since then I've had numerous prostate examinations and am just relieved that they help identify a potential problem before it gets serious.So, if you are over 45, go and get a full medical examination - including the rubber gloves treatment!


Monday, June 05, 2006

 

One day at a time

One of the things that I've learnt from my spell in hospital, is to take one day at a time.

I know that's a hackneyed phrase but it certainly is the truth when you're recovering from an operation, and it may well be something that I take into other aspects of my life from now on.

Now that I'm out of hospital following my radical prostatectomy operation, there are two key goals to focus on:

To get the results to see if they found any other cancerous nasties.
To have my catheter removed.

My specialist tells me that the catheter needs to stay in for a total of two weeks and four days from the time of the operation. That's 10 days time. He will be removing the catheter himself at his rooms, and that's also the time when he wants to discuss with me my full report following the operation.

Today is a public holiday here in Perth, Western Australia, so I know that the earliest he will have the results back from the lab is Tuesday, probably Wednesday. So, I said to him, "I'm quite anxious to hear the results. Can't you phone me when you get them, especially if it's good news?"He pointed out that while he could, it would be best to discuss the results face-to-face.

In his view the phone wasn't a good medium for this. He said, even in a worst-case scenario, no action could be taken prior to our appointment to remove the catheter. And even in a best-case scenario, we would need to discuss what this really meant. Either way, it was better to do it face-to-face.

Normally, that's the point at which I would have attempted to find out if my assertion skills had fully recovered from the anaesthetic. But what he said made sense, very convenient for him being a busy medical specialist, but it did make sense.

I explained this to my wife Gwen the following day. She like me was anxious to hear the results and patience is not Gwens greatest virtue. But I pointed out to her that I've already waited five weeks since the biopsy, and it was more important to concentrate on the healing process one day at a time than to get the results. However, I understand how tough it is for the partners in these situations so I said to Gwen, if she found this too difficult I was quite comfortable with her phoning up our specialist to discuss it.

Gwen said that was OK. She understood that the most important thing right now was the healing process and agreed that we could wait and deal with other things at the appropriate time.

I think weve both learnt something important about taking things one day at a time.

 

Alive and Healing

I am truly in awe of the wonderful job done by the medical specialists, doctors, nurses and support staff in hospitals.

Eight days ago I was chopped open and parts of my stomach moved out the way so that they could get into other parts for the fairly extensive surgery. That afternoon I woke up in hospital with tubes seemingly sticking into and out of me everywhere. And yet I felt no pain. I was even able to have a brief chat with nurses and with my wife, much to her surprise and mine. And day-by-day with their constant care and attention to detail I progressed and after seven days headed home.

And here I am exactly one week after the operation, sitting in front of a computer screen preparing this information. Not that I'm energetic enough to bang away on the keyboards for long, because I'm using Dragon NaturallySpeaking. But that's something I can tell you about another day.


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