Rehabilitation in France

Rehabilitation in France – 26th February through until 20th April 2018

After I was discharged from the Royal London I moved to the Royal National Orthopaedic Hospital at Stanmore for my rehabilitation – a world renowned centre of excellence in its field – so the prospect of trying out le Mont, a French equivalent, was obviously going to prove interesting. I know I’m not comparing apples with apples – Stanmore is NHS and le Mont is a rural hospital where treatment comes with a cost, shared between the state and the patient either straight from your pocket or split between you and your insurance company. When I get the bill I’ll share that delight with you but for now all I’ve paid is 310€, call it £270 or thereabouts.

On my arrival my taxi driver started the admission process and we soon joined by Karen. The whole process took about 10 minutes and I was soon up on the first floor where we introduced ourselves to the nursing staff. Within minutes I was shown to my room where I met Raymond, with whom I was to share for a couple of days. Raymond was one of many elderly people who had had a new knee and were there for their rehab. Raymond is a sprightly 74 year old and, fortunately, speaks good English as a result of spending years travelling Europe selling and installing dentists’ chairs. Raymond moved out to a single room after a couple of days, leaving me as the sole occupant of a nice large room. Because of my daily morning nursing ritual – bum out and up in the air for a good scrub etc. etc. – they had allocated a room for me with a curtained off washroom and loo rather than a washroom with a door (my spaz chariot is a bit of a monster and there wasn’t really enough room for me to manoeuvre it) but I had to wait for the then present occupier to go home. It wasn’t a problem and I was settled in my own room early in third week. The rooms are clean, tidy, airy and well heated – not quite Premier Inn but I’ve spent nights in worse rooms (my old Union chums reading this will all have horror stories of B&B’s in Blackpool when we were at Conference back in the ‘90s).

The routine was very much as you’d expect – woken at 07:00 with breakfast and the mornings drugs, dishes cleared by 08:00 and then ablutions, all done by the Soins Attendant (care assistants). I am usually sorted by 10:00 so I always have plenty of time to read the paper (Guardian) and listen to the news (Radio 4) courtesy of the free internet that’s available.

Breakfast is a meagre affair – but that’s my fault as when I came in I thought it would be a good idea to go on a diet – who remembers Star Wars and Jabba the Hutt? Well that’s me I’m afraid. The supposedly most important meal of the day comprises of two pieces of dry toasted bread, butter, jam, a yoghurt, a glass of orange juice and (thank heavens) a big bowl of coffee. It fills a hole and I’ve actually gotten quite used to it, so no complaints. Sunday brings with it a treat – pain au chocolate or croissant instead of toast – and on Easter Sunday and Monday on both days. They are always warm and freshly baked so absolutely no complaints there.

Then at 11:00 it’s down to Ergotherapie (in Stanmore that’s what they call Occupational Health) where I have lots of manual dexterity exercises with my right arm, often supported in a counter-balanced sling to help take the strain. Basically this involves anything that makes me move my arm and use my hands, and includes playing Connect 4, throwing quoits and drawing. It has now progressed to the stage where I am now transferring from my chair to bed and back again, which I’m really pleased about because I’m doing something after 6 weeks that the surgeon in the UK had said would take me 3 months. My mobility exercises still need a counter-balance but the weight has been reduced from 2kg to 1kg, which indicates an increase in the strength of the muscles in my shoulder. Ergo is actually more difficult than you might expect and my therapist Elise works me very hard, but she’s doing a great job and the benefits became apparent really quickly.

12:00 is lunch time and from Monday to Friday and is taken in a restaurant area, again light and airy where we are all served by the Soins Attendants, at weekend all food is served in the rooms because most people go home for the weekend. Lunch is four courses, an entrée, plat, fromage et dessert, with plenty of bread and ends with a coffee.

13:30 is time for Kinetherapie – physio – and that is a gruelling session! My physio is a French lad called Jerome and he is brilliant but heavens does he put me through it! My mobility will always be impacted by the physical restrictions of the reverse shoulder replacement but within a few weeks I was able to get both hands under the tap, so making washing and shaving so much easier. As physio progressed so did my ability to dress my top half and now I’m able to get my shoes and socks on and off without worrying about tumbling out of my chariot – I’ve done that once and really don’t want to repeat it. I was told that with lots of hard work I’d eventually be able to get my arm at 90 degrees to my shoulder. When that was measured last week I made 55 degrees with my arm out in front and 65 degree with my arm out to my side. Progress will be slow but progress there is. The main thing I’m pleased about is that I can now transfer on and off my chair to bed. Stanmore said that would take three months – I’ve done it in six weeks and have had no adverse reactions nor pain from the shoulder. What’s left of my right bicep gives me some grief where the tendons are stretching but nothing that a paracetamol doesn’t sort out.

At 16:30pm we get a cup of coffee and a biscuit or cake, delivered to the room and then at 18:30pm we get dinner, again in the room and again four courses. Given my burgeoning waist I’ve been giving this a miss and have actually lost a couple of kilos.

All the food is prepared and cooked in the kitchen, so is always fresh and a menu is posted for a two week period so I know what to expect every day.

I’m always ready for bed by 20:00, sat in my chair in just my joggers and gown, trying to make it as easy as possible for the staff in here. Most of the patients in here are elderly ladies who have had new knees or hips and some of them take some attention. Of the blokes I’m the youngest and conversation is limited but my French is getting better every day so I engage more and more with people on a daily basis.

The bulk of my care is performed by the Soins Assistants, men and women, who clean up my messes, wash and dress my bottom half. I’m usually in my chair by 10:30, giving me enough time to wash and dress in good time for Ergo at 11:00. The nurses’ dole out the drugs and check the state of my skin for pressure sores or my toes for ingrowing toe nails – believe it or not ingrowing toenails are a real problem for people in my condition as the weight of the bedclothes on your toes can easily cause them. I had one for a couple of weeks but they got a podiatrist in and he soon sorted it for me. The doctor pops in to see me to check my general well-being every now and then but they are usually always available on the ward or at the end of a phone for a quick summons. Fortunately I’ve not needed her. A rehabilitation specialist comes across from another hospital once a week – and this week she had good news for me – I get my ‘Get out of Jail Free’ card on Friday 27th April – yee haa!

I have had some problems though, mainly those bodily functions I have no control over. I thought I had a bladder infection (I didn’t) because my waterworks got a mind of their own. Upping my catheters from every six to every five hours sorted that out. The worst of it was (is) my bum. I got a dose of the galloping squits for a couple of days which required medication to stop. They didn’t really want me to take it because it can bung you up, which it promptly did! I went five days without a poo, even though every meal included greens and prunes, and last night (19th April) there was a result, and then another result was waiting for the Soins this morning. Yes, I know, many of you reading this have always thought I was full of shit – well guess what – not right now I’m not, but who knows what tonight will bring? The absolute worst thing about being a paraplegic is incontinence (it’s not really but I have to try to remember I’ve got a family audience and a gorgeous wife). Pooping and peeing in trousers or, as I’ve now had to resort, man-sized nappies is so degrading it has actually has me in tears. Depression is a constant nagging bastard sat on my shoulder and I still struggle with it, almost daily. The staff here are great, and there is always a comforting word or gesture from them. One of them, Mathieu (a six foot ex-boxer, thirty five fights, won twenty odd of them, eleven by KO), lends me a massive shoulder to lean on when necessary. The others are all just as supportive but Mathieu and I clicked immediately and he’s become a good mate.

The other constant throughout this is my darling wife Karen. She’d be here every day if Iet her but I’ve tried to make that every other day. It’s a good 35 minute drive each way, easier than when I was in Clermont-Ferrand, but still a drag for her and it’s not like when I was in the Royal London and literally on deaths door. Once Karen was happy I was being well looked after she relented and I persuaded her to go back to London for a weekend to spend some time with her daughter, my step-daughter, Leighann. I was still breathing when she got back so then I started on Plan B.

When I’m at home Karen looks after me 24/7, there’s absolutely no let up, and to be absolutely honest (and I’ll probably get a good telling off for this) the strain was beginning to show on her. Karen has to do everything and in the winter that means lugging loads of wood in everyday for the fires – it was no wonder she was getting worn out and I recognised she needed a proper break from it all. Karen has been friends with Francoise and Michel, who live in Nantes for well over 30 years and Francoise lost her Mum in January and was struggling with her loss and the demands put on her by her Father, himself dealing with his own pain. Right, thought I, get yourselves booked in somewhere nice for a week or two, leave me here and relax. She took some persuading but she relented and off she drove to Nantes, itself a 6 hour drive, on Friday. Saturday was spent relaxing and then on Sunday they girls drove to Quimper in Brittany for a week of relaxing and pampering French style. The next Sunday it was back to Nantes, Monday was another relaxing day and Karen drove home on the Tuesday. When I got to see her next on the Wednesday she looked really refreshed and my (almost) 2weeks of loneliness had proved a price worth paying. It wasn’t that bad as I had, and am still having a supply of visitors – French friends of ours and Dolf (my physio when at home) so I wasn’t that lonely. I’ve now got to try to figure out how to get her away for a rest again, which will be a challenge, but I can’t afford for her to collapse under the strain so needs must.

I’m going home this weekend, Saturday 21st and Sunday 22nd April, for some home comforts and enjoy the presence of Ann and Pete, Karen’s sister and her hubby. They’ve flown over for a couple of days and we’re off out for some posh nosh and a bit of a show. They have been amazing since the accident, visiting me in hospital in London from up North and getting over here as often as they can. Pete drove the van over when we upped sticks back in 2016. They are a great boost to our morale, help out with everything and then pop off back home after barely having time to unpack! Visiting us can never be a holiday for anyone as the demands my condition put on us means we don’t really have time to stop and put our feet up, if indeed I could, so each and every visitor mucks in. We do try to make the most of meal times though – good company, good food, good wine and plenty of conversation.

I’ll be back in here early on Sunday evening and then it will be back to the routine, but it will only be for a couple of days and then I go home, to resume physio with Dolf. I’ve got 3 months of that, joy of joys – but I’ve come this far so there’s no letting up at this stage.

So then, how do I rate the French system? Put simply it’s bloody brilliant! It’s a great little hospital, big enough to have all the facilities, small enough for it not to be impersonal. All the staff are marvellous, friendly, attentive and highly professional. What’s not to like?

I’ll sign off for now but will post again when I get home.

Take care of yourselves.

Jem