Wednesday, 15 June 2011

A week on

It seems a little surreal that it was this time last week I was lying in a hospital bed waiting for my operation. It seems like yesterday but at the same time it seems longer ago.
This time last week I had sent my support team home (who had been complete rocks all morning keeping my spirits high) and I was snoozing on the bed in the Day Surgery ward waiting for 'my turn' with the knife. I was so tired I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the hard plastic covered pillow; I woke an hour later by producing a massive snore that not only woke me up but also meant that as I opened my eyes, the ladies on the other beds and nurses were staring at me.

At 2pm my turn had arrived. I was wheeled into a room where three people got to work on me straight away. One squeezing my arm to get my veins up, the other putting in a cannula and another attaching heart monitor pads. I remember facing two double swing doors which were the entrance to theatre; I felt like I was on a ghost train waiting for the ride to start. The nurse squeezing my arm asked me what I did for a job, I replied and that was it. I was under.

The next thing was me coming round, or trying to. I remember screaming with pain and shouting that it hurt. I knew then that I had not had the keyhole surgery but the open tummy surgery. The room was spinning as the nurses worried about my response levels. I was told my mum was upstairs refusing to go home until she saw me and that I had been in recovery for 5 hours because of respiratory problems. I pushed myself to come to in order to see my mum.
They took me up to the ward around 9pm, I saw mum and Flossy, told them I loved them (apparently my eyes were huge due to the morphine) and then fell asleep.

It wasn't the best night sleep. My obs were done every 15 minutes to start with so was constantly giving an arm and pushing my morphine button. My tummy felt sore and my muscles were agony. All day Thursday I felt as though I have done thousands of sit ups. Mr Metcalf came to see me and explained they had not been able to continue as keyhole because Derek was so big so they cut me open, removed the critter along with my right ovary and took a series of biopsies including one from my left ovary as there is something suspicious there too. A nurse then gave me a wash and made me get up out of bed which was almost impossible due to feeling sick and dizzy. That was enough for the day.

My visitors came and I cried when they left because they were all to the Isle of Wight festival and I should have been going with them. Instead I was stuck, in pain and feeling helpless.
Friday I came off all my drips but I was as white as a ghost. I scared myself. Two blood tests later and I was confirmed anaemic. Generally your blood level should be over 100, mine was 67. Mr Metcalf was a little baffled as apparently I hadn't had a 'massive' bleed during the surgery but I was losing blood from somewhere. That evening I had two units of blood transfused into me. I felt like a vampire.

Saturday morning I could have bounced out of bed. I had colour and I was excited that I felt so much better. The blood had done the trick. The girlies came to visit which was a highlight and I felt as though we could have been in a Sex and the City, or Friends episode - the giggles and conversation from the Day Room were awesome, although I was exhausted by the end of the day.

Sunday, the doctors were happy with my recovery and progress and let me home. Amazing to think after major surgery I was going home after only 72 hours in hospital. What they do is truly amazing.

Being a patient is going to take some getting used to. I am stubborn and I hate sitting still. I find it awkward being looked after and fussed over and even having company for a whole day freaks me out a little. My family and friends have been amazing and I love them all very much.

I am so looking forward to being healthy and back to myself for the summer - bring it on!

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