Arriving for surgery

I arrived at the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford on Tues 19th August. Since knowing I was due to have the operation, and that I would be out of action for a few months afterwards, I had wanted to get the most from the previous months.

I had plenty of evenings and weekends rock climbing, running and cycling. Worked for a couple of weeks running mountain courses at Plas y Brenin - where Mo & I could get out climbing in the evenings and weekends too.

In July I went to the Alps for a couple of weeks with my best mate - dodging thunderstorms and doing some climbing and mountaineering.

I had made the most of the summer, and tried to ready myself psychologically for the op.

I was nervous, I won't lie. I had never had an operation before let alone a very big one like this.  The surgeon Mr M had been very good at explaining the whole process with the options to me, and answered my questions honestly, but that was in May when it all still seemed a long way off. Now it was real, and felt more intimidating.

In my heightened emotional state, I was probably more sensitive than I should have been - and my first impressions on arrival at the Cardiothoracic ward (CTW) were a bit disappointing.  I considered not including the following story, as my care in general was excellent and I have no desire to paint the staff in any other light - they all did a great job and I was well cared for after the operation. 

Having said all that, the following is a very honest illustration of how vulnerable I felt at the time and hopefully expresses what that felt like:  

(All names are made up)

I'm scared and angry.
I arrived on time at the ward, pressed the buzzer but no answer. I press again a minute or two later, still nothing.
Heading back to reception I check my letter to see I am in the correct place, I am.
Returning to the ward,a nurse is leaning against the door, pressing the buzzer repeatedly. "Come on!" she grumbles. A few minutes later a silhouette appears on the other side: "You need to push the buzzer, have you pushed the buzzer?"she inquires helpfully.

"About ten times!"the nurse replies.

The silhouette says she will find some one to open the door.

The nurse acknowledges me, "Are you here to see someone?" 

I am having an operation tomorrow I reply. She nods, then returns to leaning on the door.

It finally opens, the nurse trots inside briskly, I wander in, then head to the nursing station. Admin staff and nurses are busily doing various jobs, the door pushing nurse is in conversation with a colleague. People glance up at me, as if contemplating whether they should ask me anything, but then go back to their work.
"Hello...anyone?" I say, a small rucksack in one hand and a plastic bag of medication in the other.

"

Who are you here to see?"inquires one girl?

"I don't know...I am having an operation tomorrow." 
"What is your name?" I tell her.

"Oh you need to see Jenny"she decides after glancing at the whiteboard, and nods towards the nurse I first saw jabbing at the door buzzer. She glances up from her conversation: "I'll be with you in a minute."

I ask if I should come back later, she agrees distractedly, as a friendly nurse appears and shows me to a room.

"You'll be in here for tonight, Jenny will explain everything to you properly later. Did you bring an i-pad or something with you?"

"Err no, the letter said not to bring any valuables". She seems not to register this.

"Yes but people often bring a computer or something to watch a film".
We agree I will come back in an hour, someone says they will press the button to let me out. I get to the door and push. Locked. "Ok?"I call out. A buzzer is pressed, I leave, feeling unimportant and annoyed. All I wanted was someone to be proactive, smile, acknowledge me and give me enough of their attention to say,"we know you have arrived, we know this a big deal for you and we will chat and answer your questions or concerns later."
Why is this so hard to do?