Hi all
No, see, I haven't deserted you all. It's just that 10 weeks on from the op and its the first time I can actually sit down on both bum cheeks. Not what I'd hoped or expected when I set foot in the hospital for my op. Yesterday was the day I started my chemo as well so all in all, you could say a good week.
I did actually almost chicken out of continuing this blog as I am really so positive a person and the last weeks have really seen me sink very low. But as I do feel human again now, I hope anyone else feeling down will see if they read this, that eventually things do for most of us turn around and get better. And before I even get going here, I'd just like to thank everyone for their love and support and best wishes which I have even received from people I don't know very well.
I will catch up with all my progress to date over a few more posts so that its in readable bites rather than like the unabridged edition of "War and Peace" . So on with the show.
31st March 11. So 7.00 am saw me being shown to my ensuite private room (rather than a bog-standard cubicle) in Ward J3 to await surgery. My smugness soon changed to concern as it was pointed out this was because I was getting an enema and needed my own loo. It was a very surprised nurse who listened to my rant about how sick the last enema I'd drunk had made me and who then obviously thinking I was probably mentally challenged remarked that I must have meant a laxative as enemas went into the other end and if in fact I had drunk one then I would have been very sick indeed. Oops!!
Boring boring wait. Saw a registrar, my surgeon briefly and had a chat with the gas and air lady who was lovely. I opted for a spinal injection rather than an epidural which may or may not have worked and was a lot more hassle. Finally at 2.30 I was on the trolley ready to go. Did the "Ow you Cow" bit and then oblivion. Came to about 7.30 and felt quite good and ended up in the ward an hour later.
Now if you think that sleeping is an option overnight in hospital in a ward then forget it. Despite still being drowsy I spent most of the night listening to snoring, a lady crying in pain, nurses dealing with her, buzzers calling for attention, drip alarms and the incessant post-op hourly demands to do blood pressure so by morning I was exhausted. Perhaps I could risk a cat-nap but no the nurses arrived to whip us into shape for doctors rounds. I had a bed wash, sheets changed around me, hair brushed, teeth cleaned and a clean pink hospital nightie. I was even shown how to change my bag which to be fair I'd hardly noticed.
Footsteps in the corridor and there poised in the doorway was the first of the "Chief Poo Bears". This was all so "Carry on Doctor" . The assembled mass of medical students and lower doctors in training gathered around the end of my bed while the "Chief Poo Bear" asked a few questions to which notes books were filled in by the chirping crew at the end. A quick inspection while necks were craned to get a good look at my war wounds and then as fast as it happened the whole entourage moved on to the next bed. Not one person had commented on my sexy pink hospital nightie. Is there no justice in the world? What really made me laugh is that over the weekend when the "Chief Poo Bears" don' t work then those same junior doctors do the rounds with their chests all puffed out and look very self-important.
Now how it worked in the ward was that when you were mobile, the ladies who could move around would come an help put things within reach, stop by for chats, offer useful tips and were great company. As they left and you reached the mobile stage you would offer the same service to the newly operated on. Great ad for the sisterhood. I must say that while 3 out of 7 of us were bowel cancer patients the other ladies had crohns, ibs or diviculitus and I have so much admiration for these chronic sufferers. Many had undergone ops as bad as mine and been living with pain etc for years along with stomas etc.
Anyhow by Saturday the nurses were trying to get my out of bed. Now my bed mattress had been swapped for an amazing air mattress which made unscheduled movements giving an impression of sea sickness and then made sounds like a wind blowing through the trees, really bizarre but comfy. Trouble was I was still throwing up everytime I took morphine and just about every other pain killer and I was still not very keen. Eventually on Sunday I did sit for about a minute and even the nurses admitted that paracetamol was not enough of a painkiller 3 days after major surgery. So we tried another drug and I was given after lunch a very strong anti-nausea pill to go with it and OMG I was certainly not on this planet. It was definetely a happy pill and just in time for visiting hours. Mark and my daughter Carly arrived and I'm sure I could only give the odd hm or yeh but then a friend arrived who proceeded to accidently knock out my stopper from my mattress. Suddenly according to the many eye witness reports as there were a lot of visitors, I, like the Titantic disappeared below or at least sunk under the bed bars. I'm sure I heard Carly ask Mark "Where's my mum gone" as she returned to the bedside. As for me, I think I thought it was all part of the amazing pill I'd just taken. Later a nurse did tell me I should probably not of had it. Spoilsport.
So eventually up and out of hospital on the 5th April and proudly sat on my borrowed blow up chair in the car. Things were great for a while. The bag hadn't given me any problems and I was definetely more mobile and then one morning, I noticed one of those smells that shouts infection and the District nurse called in the doctor. Sure enough things got worse and on Friday afternoon 14th the doctor called an ambulance to cart me back to hospital.
Bummer.
Love
Sue xxxxxxxxxxx
PS: My cheque is being posted this week.
