Orthopaedic consultation at Tallaght University Hospital; surgery scheduled for Friday

On Thursday morning, I set out to Tallaght University Hospital for my consultation with the orthopaedic specialist. Tallaght is a suburb to the southwest of Dublin city centre at the end of the Luas light rail tram red line, which takes about 50 minutes from Jervis Station a short walk over the Millenium Bridge from Temple Bar. Once outside the old city centre, the tram follows the Grand Canal passing by late 20th century housing developments, before turning more southward through a more commercial area with industrial buildings, car dealerships, larger box stores ”DIY” hardware / home improvement centres, etc.

Tallaght University Hospital was built in 1998 and the campus consists of multiple low rise, blond bricks buildings with green metal trimmed windows. The main hospital building is a laid out as a square grid of corridors, making it a confusing maze to navigate. I looked up a map of the hospital online beforehand, so I had a general idea of where to find suite 5 for orthopaedics. In addition to the permanent signage hanging down from placards on the ceiling pointing in all directions to various departments, there were computer-printed improvised signs and notices with highlighted instructions taped everywhere to the walls and doors of small examination rooms. The check-in spot for orthopaedics was an open door to one of these rooms containing a desk and carts of patients’ charts. It wad occupied by a thin woman in her late 50s with curly shoulder length blond hair and glasses who was juggling paperwork while talking on the phone. A couple of unframed photos of Elvis were stuck to wall behind her desk. A chair was positioned in the doorway as a sort of fence gate to keep patients standing outside in the hallway instead of entering the room.

After a few minutes, she finished what she was doing and turned her attention to me. I gave her my name, which she looked up in her computer and then explained that I eould need to obtain a chart since it was my first visit to the hospital. She gave me instructions on where to find outpatient registration — go down to end of the hall, turn left, then take 2nd left — but I didn’t find it on the first try and had to seek help from one of the volunteers at the main entrance. The registration area was tucked around the corner of an alcove. There wasn’t anyone in the small waiting area, so I was immediately able to take a seat at one of the windows. A woman of Asian descent greeted me and asked for my basic info — name, DOB, address, emergency contact. She then printed out some paperwork and manually assembled an official looking chart, a brown portfolio file with a few colour-coded sections, inserting the printouts to where they belonged, affixing bar-coded stickers inside and out, and making a few notations on a page with lines for dated entries. Once complete, she sealed the chart in an envelope (to deter patients from browsing the folder themselves) and handed it to me to take back to orthopaedics.

I found my way back to suite 5, handed my chart over to the registration woman, and took a seat in the waiting area. My name was called within 20 minutes or so, and I was directed into a small room where the doctor waited for me — I recognised his face from the bio photo I found on the Blackrock Clinic website. Dr. M was friendly, spoke clearly, and got right to the point. I needed surgery to reaffix the tendon, and they had an available slot tomorrow (Friday). He went over the details of the procedure, the associated risks, and a general outline of what recovery would entail: 2 weeks in a plaster cast, so no use of right hand / arm for that time, then a brace/splint for another 10 weeks along with physio therapy. Full recovery is expected within 6 months. I was prepared for the news and said I wanted to proceed. He also said that I didn’t need to wear the arm sling I had been diligently using since my initial visit to the urgent care clinic on Sunday — it would be better to stretch out my arm, which I was able to do slowly without much pain. Although I hadn’t needed to wear it for the past few days, I’m still glad I did as this gave me an idea what it would be like not to have use of my right arm.

With the decision made to move ahead with surgery, the doctor passed me on to his assistants to go through the pre-op steps. They performed a COVID test, marked my right arm with two arrows, and went over the check-in process on the day of surgery. I am to arrive at 7:00am and go to the 1st floor / 2nd level for outpatient registration. They could not give me an exact time when the surgery would take place, as it depended on who else was scheduled that day. Finally, they sent me to the hospital lab for some blood work. The lab was easy to find — it was at the far end of one of the major corridors. I checked myself in using an electronic kiosk and sat down for only a minute before being called into one of the blood-draw rooms. The phlebotomist was a typical Irish woman, probably in her 50s, and we started up a friendly chat about health care in Ireland versus the U.S. She mentioned she needed a hip replacement but the wait list was probably 1-2 years. Clearly the Irish system was efficient when it came to trauma and urgent care, as in my case, but elective procedures took much longer. I told her the story of a friend in California who broke her ankle a few years ago and received a bill for $19,000 (after insurance). This always gets a jaw dropping response from the Irish.

Marked for surgery

For the rest of the day, I was in planning mode. I took the Luas back to the city center and met up with my friend CJ to brainstorm on recovery strategies (grocery shopping, food preparation, etc.). Being my closest friend here in Ireland, both literally and figuratively, he agreed to serve as a point of contact and coordinate with other friends if I needed help with anything. I stopped by the locksmith to pick up a couple of extra sets of keys to my apartment in case they might come in handy. I signed into work briefly to send an update to my superiors, and one of the directors on my team gave me a call. Everyone at work has been supportive, and I hope that I can return to work at least in a limited capacity soon. I started some laundry and took out the rubbish/trash and recycling. In the evening. CJ and another friend B. came over to assemble the IKEA mattress foundation that had caused the injury in the first place. Finally, after living in Ireland for 18 months, my bed feels like a proper setup. Having the bed raised higher makes it so much easier to get into and out of, which will be especially important while I have the arm cast.

My bed with new foundation and new mattress

CJ and B stayed for dinner, which was a delayed Easter inspired menu of lemon thyme lamb steaks; couscous with currants, pepper and parsley; and roasted potatoes (cooked in the air fryer). The good company kept my mind off the surgery, and I appreciated the opportunity to use both arms to cook a nice meal for what will be the last time for awhile.

A delayed Easter dinner

Until next time….

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By Hugh