6 years…continued

So, where did I get up to?

Oh yes, I’d just arrived at King’s College Hospital in London.

*coincidentally I have recently been notified that it was on this day 6 years ago that I found out I was to be sent to King’s the following day – see screenshot of status I uploaded onto Facebook on this day below (actually they wanted me up there that evening but my dad wanted to sort some clothes and that out so requested for me to go early the following morning)*

It was an interesting day to say the least. I was really not looking forward to going to King’s. I know it’s a good hospital but I think it was the fact that it was a massive hospital and was based in London. You hear all these stories of people being sent to a London hospital such as King’s when they’ve got major injuries or conditions.

I remember the night before I went. I couldn’t sleep. I knew the staff at my local hospital. I knew the environment. I knew how close to home I was if mum or Dad was needed.

I burst into tears and spoke to a nurse that night. I couldn’t sleep. I was petrified. I did my research on the hospital and looked up the ward I was going to be on. Don’t get me wrong, it looked okay but, again, it was a scary time.

Anyway, fast forward to being admitted. So I don’t remember much about this time, but I’ll try my best to remember what I can.

One of the first things that happened once I had settled, was that we discovered they had my name down wrong. Me and Dad noticed this when my nurse for that day came to see me and introduce herself. Looking back now, it is actually a bit amusing. Back then though, I wasn’t that happy if I’m honest – but that’s probably because of the stress and anxiety I was feeling from moving hospitals.

Anyway, my nurse wanted to confirm some of my details or something (this event is a bit of a blur to me apart from the next part..) One of these ‘confirmations’ was of my name. I think she asked something along the lines of “You’re Katie-bell aren’t you?”. Yes you read that right. Katie-bell.

I remember looking at her briefly, blankly, and saying – in a bit of a sassy tone may I just add…. (sorry Carrie – I know you’re probably reading this😅😂) “Katie.” And she responded “oh, you prefer ‘Katie’ do you?” And I was like “No my actual name is Katie. Not Katie-bell” 😂😂

To this day, it’s a mystery to me as to how the name “Katie-bell” come about. And yes, I know it sounds like Tinker-bell. It’s a nice name. But it’s not my name. The only thing me and my dad have thought of is that when my local hospital rung King’s to give them my details, they began saying “Katie” then someone rang the bell at the door of the ward so the person on the phone shouted “bell!”. And so the person on the other end of the phone at King’s wrote that down. Thus, Katie-Bell. All in all. It’s actually quite a funny story😂

Anyway, after that incident was resolved, I remember seeing many doctors and specialists. There was a lot of introductions! It was mad!

I had my obs done, bloods taken (which is quite the challenge for me – cannula’s have always been quite difficult to get into me) and was finally left alone for some time.

Now I can’t remember whether it was on this day or one of the following days, but I do remember a crucial moment from this time. It was when I went down to X-Ray.

Now this. This is when I realised. When my dad realised. When the doctors, consultants, nurses etc realised. That there was something quite seriously wrong….


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