Roland's Revenge: Chapter8

I lay back in my bed feeling very sorry for myself. If the truth be known I would have jumped off the roof if I could have got up there. Never depressed – the black dog was certainly overstaying his welcome. But then I looked at Eleanor’s get well soon card and thought of the new arrival. I was on the way back!

The entourage came in at the usual time. “I hear you had an adventure in the night but you must not let it hold you back.”

I tell the doctor that while I am extremely impressed with the bowel side of surgery he doesn’t seem to give a toss about either my back pain or my wound pain. “I’m not having that” he says. “You are having it because it’s true! My wound is getting steadily worse. I can’t sit because of either my wounds or bad back. I keep wetting the bed which is so upsetting and all you do is tell me that I must show more resove and get through the pain barrier. My pain killers don’t work. All you think is I am a bed blocker! Do you ever consider what has been done at the back? I am being treated like a normal bowel surgery patient with just a little scratch on my arse!”

The registrar responded “That’s not the case at all.” “That is the case. I have asked for a catheter – not because my bladder sphincter has gone lazy after the anaesthetic but because I have a urine infection. I had over a week dry and this has only just happened.”

“We better get a urine sample.” The sister interrupted. “We have taken a sample and he does have an infection. Antibiotics have been ordered.”

“Well you are still not getting out of bed!” Again I tell him he is missing the point. “I can’t get out of bed without wetting it. I cannot sit because the skin is so sore from being bathed in urine and my back pain is chronic. My pain control is not working.!”

Again the sister interjects, “Mr. Wilkie is often out of bed with his zimmer.” There is a sagacious but non-committal nod. The entourage moves on.

My first visitor was a member of the pain management team who reviewed all of my drugs and altered my medication so I could have regular tablets and top up tablets as required.

Next a back specialist came and examined me. He told me he would arrange a series of scans.

Then the plastic surgeons team arrive. I assume ‘the position’ and they have a good look and decide to remove the peripheral stitches. I tell them it feels infected but they say it looks good.

I just finish lunch such as it is, when the staff nurse asks if I mind a nurse and trainee remove my stitches. Not at all is my reply and for the next hour I am ‘in the position’ while 240 stitches are removed. Never felt a thing!

While my derriere was being unpicked the physio Gestapo turn up. I tell them that I am not getting out of bed and the big Geordie lass (who is actually a Mack’emtack – from Sunderland ) walks off calling me mardy.

Quite a busy day – and things were looking up. I had lost some freedom with the catheter but it was so mu7ch better knowing I wasn’t going to mess the bed.