'Get me the biggest thing between two slices of bread that McDonald's sells, bugger the veggie burger and YES, supersize it!'
As a vegetarian of more than 20 years, that is a sentence I never thought I’d say. But I did say it and this is why.
During my second pregnancy, I had SPD (Symphis pubic dysfunction, which results in severe pelvic pain) pretty much from the moment the line turned blue on the pregnancy test. I was on crutches at eight weeks and an electric wheelchair from 19 weeks. Not exactly my idea of fun - but if I wanted to be able to get out of the house with my then three-year-old I had no choice in the matter. By the end of pregnancy, I was able to walk only with crutches or holding onto someone, and even then only short distances. To put it in perspective, from my bed to my bathroom is 15 steps. That was the limit of my walking ability.
I was booked in for an induction at my request and for health reasons. Even though we had paid for a private room (which we did primarily so that I had a toilet within walking distance) I was told that I was not allowed to bring in my (electric) wheelchair due to space limitations. I was told that hospital ‘wheelchairs’ were available - but trying to self-propel a hospital wheelchair is almost impossible, as they are designed to be pulled by someone else. The midwives refused to do this, as it was contrary to their manual handling policy.
On the morning following the birth, I was told that if I wanted food (of course I did!) then I would have to leave my baby in the central nursery and go down to the dining room, which was a distance of about 100m. I could only just walk to my bathroom at home, so there was no way I would be able to get to the dining room.
While they were happy to come in repeatedly, usually by throwing the door open with a total disregard for my privacy and lecturing me on totally irrelevant things such as when I would resume marital relations with my DH (answer: when hell freezes over); asking them for a sandwich from the supposedly free-access-whenever fridge was tantamount to asking them to cut their own heads off. I was told it was 'policy' for patients to go to the dining room so they could 'bond' with the other mothers.
My choices were to crawl or to starve, essentially. So when DH came in that lunchtime with his lunch of a McDonald's chicken burger meal hidden under his coat (he thought I would have already had lunch) I polished off every bite of it, before sending him out for more. At that time it was the best thing I have ever tasted. Seriously. Tea and toast - nah. Lukewarm McChicken is where it’s at.
There were other issues, too. There was also no shower chair, so I was unable to have a shower - and the midwives didn't know how to use the bath hoist in the bathroom. I knew, but as I wasn’t manual-handling trained I wasn't allowed to use it either. By this point I was beginning to question if there even was a manual-handling policy.
The issues I faced were eventually put down to staffing issues.
I was offered a birth afterthoughts service but after being made to feel like an afterthought myself, the very last thing I ever want to do is return to that hospital. I won’t be having any more children either, at least partly because I never ever want to be in a situation like that again, with my basic needs ignored under the guise of 'policy'.
And I've not eaten a chicken burger since.
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“I never ever want to be in a situation like that again”
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MumsnetGuestPosts · 04/05/2017 09:38
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