Monday was surgery day. Admitted at 7am and seen by anaesthetists and surgeons before going into theatre around 8.30. I thought I was going to be a nervous wreck but I was actually really calm and excited about it. Probably because I was completely unaware of the post-op horror that was to come. I had a spinal block anaesthetic thing, with some spinal morphine, and a sedative – I was very adamant that I would have no idea what was happening to me at any point! I did wake up at one stage, had a wee chat with the anaesthetist while he put me back out, as I listened to distant hammering noises which I was vaguely aware was to do with what they were doing to me. Didn’t bother me at the time though! Woke up at the end before they had taken me out of the theatre and thought I was alright... I wasn’t in much pain at all.
This stage was deceptive.
As the spinal morphine wore off, intense pain, nausea and dizziness spread through my system. I felt HORRIBLE. On Monday night I wanted to die. There was lots of morphine because of the crazy pain and such. To be honest I don’t actually remember much of Monday. I’d rather forget. It’s all some kind of hellish blur. But I spent the night in the Special Care Unit not sleeping.
Tuesday was not much better. People wanted me to move and every time I did I swear a fairy died. An unpleasant trainee nurse bathed me badly and I think I was equally as unpleasant back. I had an x-ray to check that my joint was in the right place – this involved being forced to get myself off the bed and walk with crutches about three steps to the other bed. It hurt so bad I screamed and cried. My saving grace through my time at the SCU was a nurse whose name was Lisa. She reprimanded anyone who was too tough with me and held my hand, came with me to x-ray and generally had my back. That woman was an angel.
Having thrown up during the night and then again following my poor attempt at breakfast, I wasn’t feeling my best for my move to the Surgical Orthopaedic Ward. I don’t even really remember that afternoon. By this time I had given up all embarrassment at people having to lift my ass to slip a bed pan under me, and then taking my pee away. I even got a reputation as having an impressive bladder capacity that I’ll admit to being a little bit proud of. I loved my visit from my Jessie Potato on Tuesday. Had my Mama Bear and Dad in, too. They came in every day, providing me with general awesomeness.
Wednesday I got up for the first time since the x-ray, walked myself to the toilet. I even had a shower, which greatly improved my frame of mind. This coincided with them taking me off morphine. Subsequent pain from inferior drugs did not improve my frame of mind. Emma came to see me with James, who had great fun with my grabber thing. To anybody that visited me: you made hospital far more bearable. Thank you!
Thursday was a bit great in many ways. Despite still struggling with pain and nausea, I had lots of visitors: Aunty Rozi, Tina, Jono, Dad and Irene, Jessie and Jordyn, and my Ma. Also managed to get myself out of bed, to the toilet and back into bed without any help. I never thought at 22 I’d be so proud to pee unaided.
On Thursday I also got to stop using the bloody foot pumps. I hate those things with every fibre of my being. They are these things they wrap around your feet which puff up every few seconds to stimulate blood flow in your feet to prevent blood clots from not moving. I understand the necessity of something like this, but they are horrible. I had terrible pain right up my legs from cramping or DVT or something, and every time they went off it would shoot this pain up my leg. I blame this for a large part of the reason I barely slept in hospital. Had visits from Occupational Therapists and Physios who got me moving around and trying new things - painful but productive. OH ALSO Jean arrived on Thursday. What Joy! A Bright spark in an otherwise dim world... *cough*. Thursday night was my first night without foot pumps and HOLY JESUS I SLEPT SO MUCH BETTER.
And Friday – home! Dad and Irene were amazingly accommodating and had set up the back seat for me to lie my leg out straight, as well as figuring out the least bumpy route home. They gave me gifts and had baking and cooking for me - I was so spoiled! So good to be home but things are much harder here than they are in hospital. The nurses’ job was to run around after me, but it isn’t my mothers. She is wonderful, despite being sick, and does everything I ask her to but I feel bad and am doing as much for myself as I can (probably for the best anyway, and challenging my problem solving skills at times!). Things aren’t as handy here but I’m managing. My other hip is getting worse as it’s put under so much pressure from taking all my weight as I become increasingly mobile. I can’t wait to have it done and for this to be all over, but I’m not looking forward to a repeat of the difficult week I’ve had. It has been harder than I could have imagined. Worth it in the end, I know, but seriously... This whole thing will make me a stronger person I have no doubts!
Stuff that's tops: sleeping in my own bed, postal gifts from my brother and sister in Aussie, my entire family and friends for being amazing.
Stuff that's dumb: the difficulty of trying not to let your pants fall down to your ankles when you pee so that you can pull them up without breaking the rule of not bending over, not being able to get comfortable in bed.
Stuff that's tops: sleeping in my own bed, postal gifts from my brother and sister in Aussie, my entire family and friends for being amazing.
Stuff that's dumb: the difficulty of trying not to let your pants fall down to your ankles when you pee so that you can pull them up without breaking the rule of not bending over, not being able to get comfortable in bed.
Gabs, glad you are trying to be independent, but my job at the moment IS to run around after you, so just call on me whenever you want xxx
ReplyDelete