This article is part of a series of contributions.
I assumed I had reached the pinnacle of idiocy when I was told that sterile gloves were not needed when inserting the bladder catheter. And then, miraculously, I had a germ down there. The theory was that it had come from the hospital and had only just been noticed. Hm, but no one from the hospital touched my dick, remember? I paid 7,000 euros for the care you were allowed to give me.
And then, during the next comparable activity, the landline phone rang and was answered with sterile gloves. The nurse's subsequent comment - quote - "Well, the phone is clean". If I were a believer, I'd fall away from the faith. And I once planned to hang up a sign saying that you should wash your hands after taking a piss. But if I start with such provocative measures, where do I stop, please?
Phew, there's still a long way to go. Or maybe not. I don't know whether different cultures and mentalities might not clash irreconcilably here. What am I supposed to do in a discussion with someone who sees homosexuality as a disease? Or explain to me - and this was really the tip of the iceberg in terms of hygiene standards - the tubes of the stomach tube and the bladder catheter are both clean, you can fix them together, what could happen?
I ask for a photo. I can't believe my eyes. I don't let on and ask for the photo to be sent to me. Although I claim to want to use the picture for my care instructions, which would be a compliment, I am refused documentation by photo. So someone knows very well that you don't do that. But then I ask myself why they do it anyway, in my case.
I would therefore have to recreate a photo from my memory log with friends. Even if the existence of eidetic memory, especially in adults, has not been proven, my brain does not forget such images. Admittedly, it is not only such images that yours truly does not forget.
I think my parents still have a crisis when they think back to my Abitur. How they asked me a week before whether I shouldn't study slowly for my Abitur. And I was of the opinion that I would start reading the summary books for the exams tomorrow or the day after, and that would have to be enough. Which it did. I'd better not say with what cut. Otherwise I'll turn new haters against myself here. Stochastically, however, highly interesting. Keyword: good-looking - sporty - intelligent. A separate article on this is in the works.
Be that as it may, the photo has burned itself into my long-term memory like the greasy remains of animal carcasses on the grill after a barbecue. Ooh, potential for more haters. So back to nursing, where I involuntarily become a hater. Only yesterday I asked my girlfriend if I was too demanding. As if shot out of a pistol, she replies that I have always been very demanding. Yes, that may be so. Is that a bad quality of mine? No, I don't think so. I have always achieved a lot in my life. My standards are correspondingly high. I'll sign that right away. There's just one catch. We are talking about the absolute basics of preventing infections. Which obviously didn't work twice in a row within less than two months. I have taken more antibiotics in the past four months than in my previous 43 years of life. I seriously wonder where that leaves room for discussion. And I don't find it funny either, laughter is out of place here.
So what does all this have to do with the original question? It was actually about the tracheostoma, the cannula. What does that have to do with what I've been getting so worked up about for the last few pages? Everything and nothing.
Nothing. In nothing should the professional quality of my carers affect my decision for or against the cannula.
All. Everything calls my decision into question when someone then has to nurse and clean a direct access into the trachea, which I have drawn above.
