Yet More Hospital Life - Part 5 - The Ups and Downs of Life - or, Instruments of Torture: Hoists and Banana Boards

Yet More Hospital Life - Part 5 - The Ups and Downs of Life - or,  Instruments of Torture:  Hoists and Banana Boards

I've already said, how quickly you can get used to a completely new way of life, and we soon got accustomed to the longer journey between home and hospital, and made allowances for the more frequent traffic delays en route. Mum also got used being in hospital, and using bedpans instead of going to the bathroom.

Days turned into a week, and then two and three; Mum was terribly nervous of trying anything new, in case it jarred her ankle. She was also still in pain with her right knee, and so not very co-operative with the physiotherapists.

One morning, one of the bright, young physios brought along a beautifully smooth, shiny board.  The shape and colour of a banana, Mum was told this would help her to get out of bed, and spend some time sitting in the chair.

Mum looked suspiciously at the board, and then at the PT. "How I am going to do that?" she asked.

"Don't worry!" the physiotherapist assured her, "I'll help you....."

With that, she lowered the side of the hospital bed, and managed to slide one end of the banana board underneath Mum's behind.

"Right!" she said, enthusiastically.  "All you have to do now is relax, tilt yourself onto the board, let yourself  go, and slide down off the bed, and on to the chair!"

I could see Mum getting tense.  She didn't believe any of it; she was anxious she would go with such a rush and end up landing in the chair with a bump. There was also nothing to hold on to during the "ride." Even with the bed lowered, there was still a substantial difference in height from the bed to the chair seat.

The physiotherapist was not one to give up easily. "Come on," she said, "think how nice it will be, if you can sit in the chair for a while, instead of lying in bed all day!"

"Just a minute," said Mum, employing delaying tactics.  "If this will get me from the bed onto the chair, how will I get back up into bed again?"

She had a point.  It was one thing going from the higher bed to the lower chair; clearly, the banana board would not work in reverse.

"Oh, we'll get you back into bed!" The physio was reassuring.  "That won't be a problem."

Well, even I could see travelling by banana board was likely to make any patient feel out of control, and I thought it was reminiscent of slides in a salt mine near Berchtesgaden in Germany.

Nearly fifty years ago, I worked in Berchtesgaden as a fashion consultant for a company called Arwa, that made pantihose (tights in the UK), stockings and various sorts of fashionable hosiery. During my time with Arwa, I worked jolly hard, especially if there was an exhibition coming up and we had a new collection to prepare, with new colours and styles; but I did have time off, and one weekend found me taking a tour of the salt mine, not far out of  the town.  It was fun - and I was young and reasonably adventurous, although not especially keen on heights!  Some way into the tour, we were presented with the opportunity of taking a slide to get to a lower level in the mine. The slide was about 40 meters long, and formed by two long lengths of hardwood, I think probably oak, with a groove in the middle.  It was worn completely smooth by the thousands of miners - and now tourists - using  it over the years to get from an upper level in the mine to a lower one. We were told not to try to brake ourselves by putting a foot down on the way to the bottom; and with this instruction ringing in my ears, I climbed "aboard" the slide. With a few people in front, and a few more behind me, there was no turning back now! - and I reclined in the groove. Given a gentle push by the guide, we skimmed down to the lower level.  The only trouble was, as we got going, the rate of travel speeded up, and for someone not used to it, the slide was a nerve-racking experience.

A bit further on in the tour, another slide loomed: "This is a baby slide!" the guide laughed.  Yes, it was shorter, and I thought, "In for a penny, in for a pound!" and had another go.

If you had to ride the slides every day, I am sure you would get accustomed to them; but Mum, at 92, had an altogether different view of the banana board.

In the end, she tried it - once. As the physio got her positioned further onto the board, and she started to slide, Mum gave an ear-piercing scream as her weight propelled her downhill into the chair.  Mum sat there shaking,  and I covered her up with a rug and told her she had done very well.  That was the last time she agreed to slide on the board; getting her back into bed was another issue altogether.

Mum sat in the armchair for hours.  The material covering the seat was obviously something that could be cleaned and disinfected, so it felt cold and hard, and was not very comfortable.  I got a rug for Mum and covered her knees, someone else found a foot stool, and there she stayed.

At least it made a change for Mum, to be sitting up in a chair whilst she ate the dinner I brought her;  I made every encouraging remark I could think of, pointing out it was much better than being propped up in bed!

However, soon the time came when Mum had to get back into bed; and that involved using a hoist. Hoists are operated by two people, and I know nurses, carers, and everyone involved in their use, have to be well trained, but I do wonder if, before they are let loose on patients, they are also required to experience being hoisted themselves.  If not, they should be.  Even with the most helpful and reassuring operators around you, it's scary being fitted into a sling and then hooked up to the "crane," lifted out of a chair and swung over to the bed.  Being told to sit still and not move was not helpful; Mum wriggled and jiggled and tried to hang on to something, but there really wasn't anything to hang on to.

It might have taken only a few minutes, but in terms of stress and fear, it felt like a long time before Mum was safely deposited back on the bed.