my heart sinks
as your lips touch
glass
another sip
a tongue poisoned
hurt
words slur
as eyes roll with
sadness
surrounding faces
bitten tongues holding
regret
tempers bubble
in the place of
love
these are the times
you will never get
back
Sunday, 19 June 2011
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!
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!
Wednesday, 25 May 2011
Getting it off my chest
I am having a 'life is unfair' and a 'why me' moment.
I have been trying to be upbeat and positive about Derek the stupid f***king cyst for the last 8 weeks, keeping my head above the water, cracking on with work and remaining strong. But now I am feeling angry, upset and extremely fed up and wondering when I will actually get a break from the crap that life keeps on throwing at me. I get described as resilient a lot, yes I bounce back, I keep going and I will work hard to get things done and to achieve what I want to, but every now and then, I just want a break and I want to be able to sit back and have a head full of nothing other than the positive and lovely things that are happening in my world. Don't get me wrong, there are lovely things happening but at the moment, they are over-shadowed by my ever-increasing stomach.
I am uncomfortable, in pain, my legs hurt with shooting pains, I am tired and I am absolutely shitting myself about the operation. Three weeks ago, I was at a 40% chance of having ovarian cancer… and told I could end up having a hysterectomy.
Yeah life goes on and I WILL be ok but I am scared, I don't want either of those things but I am fearing and preparing for the worse. So another two weeks of waiting and thinking about it all is going to be hard.
I am so upset that I won't make the Isle of Wight Festival, I have been looking forward to it for months now - being there and hanging out with some amazing friends (most of which are all thanks to Twitter) and seeing my sister at her first festival. I wanted to be singing to the Kings of Leon as the Sun went down, drinking beer and sharing laughs and experiences with my friends.
Instead I will be in a hospital bed with tubes and wires and a lovely big scar drinking crap tea and eating mush.
I will stop moaning now. I have spent a good couple of hours sobbing and feeling sorry for myself.
I now have it out of my system and I will focus and look forward to having a healthy summer. I might just have to have a mini-festival in my garden. I do know that I will be having some lovely trips away and I will be organising a big party in August as a 'goodbye/good riddance Derek - 1st birthday of my business - thank you to all my friends & family for support over the last 12 monist' party.
Now that IS something to look forward to.
And @ljattrill, @CarlTheGeek, @TheLongTallAlly, @SisterLedge, @DiaryofaLedger and all the other twitter friends who are going... think of me when this is played please..
Tuesday, 17 May 2011
Sunday, 15 May 2011
Sunsets
The end of the earth was happening as we hit the motorway. The sky to the west flaming with vibrant yellows, pinks and burnt oranges. The clouds disguised as smoke as the sun set fire to the horizon.
We headed north on an adventure, leaving the doubt to burn with the sun.
Friday, 6 May 2011
The next step
This morning I have been to see Mr Metcalf at Princess Anne hospital to talk and discuss the next steps of Derek's life inside me. I didn't know what to expect so hadn't really prepared myself or thought of any questions. Mum came with me, as did my lovely friend Peta who is in her 3rd year of medical school; I am so glad she came.
I was first seen by one of the consultants who basically said I was having to make a choice - whether I wanted a hysterectomy to remove it all or to do it in stages. I wasn't prepared for that. He asked me my age to which I replied "29", to which Peta responded "No you're not", I have no idea why I said 29; I am 31 but it broke the ice a little and we all had a giggle at my nervous stupidity.
I said that I do want children and that I would like every chance so for the procedure to be done in stages. I didn't like him, he seemed to not know much and scared me. I talked to the cancer support person from Winchester who sits in on all consultations. She gave me her card and said I can call anytime with any concerns.
We were then taken to see 'the Boss Man', Mr Metcalf who will be doing the procedure. Again, we talked about wanting children and whether I give him permission and will trust his judgement if he opens me up and feels that both ovaries and my uterus should be removed. If I had thought I would be asked these questions, I would have given it more thought. But as my mum said, my health comes first.
Mr Metcalf had a feel Derek and we discussed that it *could* be endometriosis as many of the symptoms are the same. But, he won't know this until they see it. So the plan is that if will get is colleague - Adam Moors who is a specialist in endometriosis to be with him when I go into surgery (lucky me I get two surgeons!!) I will have a lapraoscopy with a camera to see if it endometriosis, if it is Mr Moors will continue with the procedure and if it isn't then Mr Metcalf will take over, open me up and remove Derek who has eaten my right ovary. If the left side is looking troublesome, he will not remove but will wake me up first so that I can discuss fertility options - harvesting eggs etc and I will then go back to have the rest removed.
All a lot to take in. If it isn't endometriosis (en - do - meat tree - oh -sis, for the purpose of my mum who can't say it properly) then the risk of it not being malignant is 60 / 40. The odds are still pretty close and we got the impression that they still have no real idea as to what it is.
At least I have a date to work towards which means I can plan work, get my hair cut (because I want to look my best) and fill myself with positive vibes. I am keeping my fingers crossed that it is endometriosis but I won't know until I come round from the anesthetic and whether find a scar or not.
Monday, 2 May 2011
Silence
Another Friday and another call from the hospital.
I am still an 'uncertain' and a 'borderline' case.
It is easy to deal with when I have something to take my mind off things, when there are friends who keep me busy so I don't have to think.
But when they go home and the silence surrounds; I think.
The what ifs, the maybes and the what will I do thoughts consume
All I can think is that in life, there should be no regrets.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)