Tag Archives: wheelchair

All the Fun of the Fair

There’s no doubt that the weeks since April have dragged past at snail’s pace for a certain young man and his broken leg. 10 weeks into having that leg encased in plaster, and all of M’s hopes were pinned on the sarmiento cast finally being removed and allowing what must now be a skinny, white limb see some summer sun and fresh air. Unfortunately, the last fracture clinic appointment did not go according to M’s plan and the x-rays showed that the bone regrowth had slowed down and was not at the level the orthopaedic consultants were expecting it to be after over 2 months in a cast. The news that he has to survive another 3 weeks of limited mobility was not well-received and, having seen him stoically accept the verdict before crumbling once we left the unit, it was a massively disappointed and heartbroken little boy Mike and I had to take back home. The next 30 hours or so saw him at a lower point than we’ve experienced for a long time and it was only thanks to his sense of commitment and phenomenal strength to keep fighting the fight that we managed to convince him to go to his school’s summer music concert that evening, where he disguised his emotions well and took part on his cello and in the choir with reasonable gusto.

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What we needed was something to cheer him up and fortunately that something was already pencilled in on our calendar for that very weekend. It might not have looked too promising during Stagecoach on the Friday night as M broke down in tears about not being able to dance with everyone else, but thanks to much encouragement and enthusiasm from his big sister as well as a determined spirit that won’t be kept down, by early Saturday morning, things were looking a lot brighter and it looked like we had weathered yet another health storm.

The reason? The song and dance routine that their Stagecoach school were going to be performing as part of our local carnival’s parade and a huge serving of 70s disco to boot. We had always planned for M to be part of the parade in his wheelchair, knowing that the mile and a half long route would be too much for a newly healed leg.

IMG_0502[1]The preceding weeks had been busy with costume preparations and plans to pimp his wheelchair for the event and his decision to ask for a 70s themed cast at the previous fracture clinic meant that we were all set for the parade. Mike and I had also been roped in to help out for the day and I had even managed a few tweaks to our own clothes to make sure we were part of the 70s disco theme. All of the children were fantastic as they sang and danced their way towards the town’s football club and entertained the crowds, who joined in with the familiar moves of “Night Fever” and “Tragedy”. I was particularly proud of G, whose hard work and dedication to her dance saw her selected to be one of the 2 dance captains and she led the group with a flair and sense of fun that I rarely see from her when she’s performing. She really stepped up to the mark and the smile on her face showed just how much she enjoyed it.

And M enjoyed himself too, despite his insistence he wouldn’t. He and I showed off our moves as we grooved our way down the High Street and he waved right and left as friends called out and cheered our group as we went past. Of course the disappointment of not being able to participate as fully as he would have liked was still there, but he was caught up in the excitement of the day and really did enjoy all the fun of the fair!

 

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The right PLACE for an opinion

Finally, it’s happened. Finally, I’ve found a place where my opinion matters. In fact it did more than matter, it was requested, recorded and appreciated too and, what’s more, it wasn’t just my opinion that counted that day, but M’s as well and that meant the world to him, and to me.

5729994426_7fbcf8798aAt the start of 2016, not long after we had returned home from M’s December admission, I spotted an opportunity for M and me to volunteer our time to be assessors for the annual PLACE assessment at GOSH. If you’ve never heard of PLACE before, then you’re not on your own as it was also a completely new thing to me, but I loved the idea of being able to give something back to the hospital that has become the focus of the last 5 years of our life in any way we could. To my delight, M and I were both accepted as volunteers and it was then a case of waiting for the crucial email inviting us to the assessment day to arrive. When that email did eventually appear in my inbox, the day was set for early April, which coincided perfectly with school holidays and my day off work – a real win-win situation for us. M and I chatted about what the day would involve and even the unexpected turn of events that resulted in M’s broken leg didn’t stop us as Tammy, the helpful Facilities Manager and PLACE co-ordinator, reassured me that we could still take part, broken limb and all.

PLACE stands for “Patient Led Assessments of the Care Environment” and, to be honest, does exactly what it says on the tin – invites patients and others closely connected to GOSH to assess different areas of the hospital according to a specific list of criteria. Upon arrival we were well-briefed on what was required, including the 5 key areas we would be focusing on: cleanliness; condition, appearance and maintenance; privacy, dignity and well-being; food; and, ironically, a new area for 2016 and one that M was best suited for, disability. We were split into a number of teams with between 3 and 4 patient assessors and a staff facilitator in each, and each team was allocated 2 wards and either a public (or communal area), an external area or an outpatients department to inspect. M and I had discussed the ward options at length ahead of time and despite M’s initial yearning to visit Rainforest, we agreed that our opinions of Rainforest and Kingfisher wards, both of which we have stayed on in the past, would be coloured by our previous experiences and wouldn’t be as unbiased as the PLACE assessment required. I asked if we could perhaps visit one of the newer wards in the hospital as it would be vastly different from our usual haunts and was delighted when that request was met.

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Our facilitator was the lovely Mark, who had already promised M that he would try to lead our group and would take him in the biggest lift in the hospital – which we did and saw so much more of the hospital that I’ve ever seen before. Everything settled, we headed into the main Reception, our public area, and started looking at the different things and criteria we needed to consider to complete our assessment, from fire extinguishers to hand-gel dispensers and everything conceivable in-between. Once we had finished there, we headed onto our first ward in one of the newer wings of GOSH, where, having completed our assessment of the ward itself, we observed the lunch service before tasting the food for ourselves. Our final stop was back in the oldest part of the hospital, where Rainforest ward can also be found, and what must be one of the smallest wards at GOSH. The contrast between the 2 wards was hugely noticeable and it was fascinating to learn more about the proposed improvements to the hospital over the next 5 years or so. It didn’t seem like a particularly long or overly active day, but by the time we had finished with everything we needed to do and had headed back to the Lagoon to collate our scores and add any further comments, M was completely exhausted. His enthusiastic participation in giving his own opinions and insights into what he could see so soon after breaking his leg tired him out to the extent that he fell asleep in his wheelchair and was completely oblivious to the activity and hubbub surrounding him for the next hour or so.

We both thoroughly enjoyed our experience on the day and M was delighted to discover once he woke back up that an invitation to attend next year’s assessment had been extended to him and that G had been added to the task-force too. I can’t reveal too much about what our findings were until the results are published, but I will say that we did find a problem with the disabled toilet in the main reception area. We were surprised to discover that it wasn’t really big enough to accommodate M, his wheelchair, his extended leg and me and that we didn’t have the space to manoeuvre him from chair to toilet once we locked the cubicle door. It appears that M’s broken leg came in handy on that day, though I’ve no intention in offering a similar expertise to next year’s PLACE assessment day! Since then, M and I have found ourselves sitting in the fracture clinic at our local hospital assessing what we can see surround3-tips-to-improve-the-way-you-write-Web-Contenting us, just as if we were in the midst of another inspection. What’s more, as often comes of these things, some more opportunities for both children to be involved in an ongoing capacity with developments at GOSH came out of that day which is really exciting, but that, as they say, is another story.