I'm free!
Well, it's been a while since I've last posted, and most of you know why. Far be it from me to do something simply.
I went into the hospital on Wednesday. I'd convinced Rich to not go to Dubbo, and I'm really glad I did. I just really wanted him to be there - just in case. Just in case what, I'm not sure, I just know that I really wanted him to be there.
So we went in bright and early on Wednesday morning, checked in at 7am, and then began the sitting around in the waiting room game. I went in at about eight, and that was me out for a couple of hours. I woke up at about two (expecting it to be about nine, since it was only a half-hour procedure) and in a lot of pain.
My surgeon (gyno-oncologist) sent in the camera, and could see pretty quickly that it was cancerous. The tumour was in my right ovary and was quite self contained. It was a fairly simple procedure to take it out, but surgeons can't do anything like that without a patient's consent. Since I was comatose, it was time to make some calls...
Rich had gone to the park to wait while I was under. Dr B called him, explained what she wanted to do and pretty much demanded (not asked) permission. There really wasn't much choice. Rich panicked a little, and said that they should really talk to my mama. So Mama was rung (instant heart attack material - telephone call on the mobile from your daughter's surgeon), and she agreed to the procedure. Basically, if we didn't do the procedure then, we would have done it in about four weeks anyway and I would have had to go through the whole thing again, only it would have had time to grow in the interim. So it was all systems go.
Dr B cut me from navel to pubic bone (quite neatly) and went in and removed all the tumour. She took out all that was visible, and then took biopsies from the left ovary, uterus, liver, and probably a whole bunch of other things. She then sewed me up quite neatly and I began the waking up process.
And boy, was it unpleasant. I was in pain when I woke up. People would come and speak to me, but the only thing I could say was "pain". I started saying it to people who were just walking past. They put me on fentanyl pretty quickly. Does anyone remember the chapter from my first journey on fentanyl? Yeah. Well. Fentanyl doesn't work for me. I don't know why, but we have officially confirmed it. Fentanyl DOES NOT WORK. My first day out was extremely unpleasant. I had a constant agonising pain in my stomach. I'm not good at describing pain, it all seems a bit cliched to me - my stomach was on fire, it felt like a rod of red-hot steel - none of it really describes it. It just fucking hurt. I really could think of nothing but the pain. Dr B tried to explain what she'd done - nope, completely uninterested. All I could think about was the pain and making it stop. Eventually the pain management team came and I was eventually switched onto morphine (apparently they don't even stock pethidine at the hospital). Things settled down a bit after that and I could think about something other than the pain. Richard could explain what had happened and I could take it in then.
Poor Richard. It was so hard for him to see me in such a state - he said it absolutely terrified him to see me so helpless. Once I came around I was stoned to the hilt as well, so definitely not my usual self. I think he really struggled to sit around and just be, with nothing he could do to help except be there. Brad came at about three, and I think that really helped Rich, just to have someone else who cared to just sit around quietly with. I vaguely recall telling Brad he could hold my foot. I remember it being nice and peaceful, with people who loved me there, but not making demands, so I could just drift in and out of consciousness. Jacqui came after work, and stayed with me while Rich went to pick Mama up from the airport (she booked the first flight she could down). They came back to the hospital late that night, so I could see Mama before I went off to sleep. It was so good to see her - it doesn't matter how old you are, there are times when a girl needs her mama, and being cut open is definitely one of those times.
I had a bad night - I was still in a fair bit of pain, and I had one of those nurses who really shouldn't be in the profession. She wasn't unpleasant, or mean, or anything like that, just - indifferent. No real interest in what she was doing or the people she was dealing with. Never smiled. Indifferent. And because I was fresh meat on the ward, I had "observations" (obs) every half hour or so - blood pressure, pulse, temperature. The change of shift at about midnight were quite nice, and a couple of nurses stayed for a bit of a chat when they noticed I wasn't really sleeping. I continued to drift in and out all night but didn't really get much quality sleep at all.
The next morning, something wonderful happened - the nurses came to give me a shower. It was awkward, it was painful to move - but oh, it was wonderful! The hot water! The clean feeling! Just bliss. With all my tubes and connections, it was awkward and difficult to negotiate, and it was definitely painful to get out of bed and move around quite so much, but it was lovely. Never have I enjoyed a shower so much. I then sat up in a chair for a couple of hours and felt like a proper big person again. (I then spent the rest of the day in bed, dozing, but hey, it was a start.) The day before, I had had no food. I didn't really notice that I was particularly hungry, but it felt a little strange to not be eating. Thursday, I started my clear fluids diet. Yum. Not. Vegetable broth and green jelly. I was so excited at the thought of getting fed that I didn't mind. Come chicken broth and red jelly for dinner, and I was less excited. Friday's tomato and rice broth with green jelly and I was OVER it.
Interesting thing about abdominal surgery. They pump you full of gas and move all your intestines around. They need to be sure that your digestive system is working again. And how do we tell this? When all that gas they've pumped you with makes its way through. And they won't feed you till it does. Yep, no farty-farty, no foody foody. Nice. And EVERYONE asks if it's happened yet. So, I got real food on Friday :)
I was feeling pretty good on Friday. I got my catheter taken out in the morning, and was doing well with the pain management, so I got my IV line taken out in the evening. I was free! Dr B came to see me, said I was doing good, and said I could go home the next day - on one condition. I was to do NOTHING. I was to lie around being waited on hand and foot by Rich and Mama. I agreed quite enthusiastically.
Today (Saturday) was frustrating. We knew we could go home, but still had to wait for the hospital pharmacy to give me my drugs. It took till 1.30 this afternoon, but the moment they came, we ran. I am free!
I am not allowed to walk anywhere until a full week after the surgery. No lifting, bending, stretching for four to six weeks, the longer the better. Normally people who have this surgery don't leave hospital for about a week, but my philosophy is that if others are doing it, then I'll do something completely different, thank you very much. There are some benefits to being young, fit and healthy when it comes to major surgery.
So, here comes my week of lounging on the couch, reading and watching movies! Jacqui is bringing me a box of Enid Blyton-style childhood books, which should keep me endlessly entertained! I am healing well, feeling quite good, and most importantly, I am home again.
Much love,
Jessie xoxo
I went into the hospital on Wednesday. I'd convinced Rich to not go to Dubbo, and I'm really glad I did. I just really wanted him to be there - just in case. Just in case what, I'm not sure, I just know that I really wanted him to be there.
So we went in bright and early on Wednesday morning, checked in at 7am, and then began the sitting around in the waiting room game. I went in at about eight, and that was me out for a couple of hours. I woke up at about two (expecting it to be about nine, since it was only a half-hour procedure) and in a lot of pain.
My surgeon (gyno-oncologist) sent in the camera, and could see pretty quickly that it was cancerous. The tumour was in my right ovary and was quite self contained. It was a fairly simple procedure to take it out, but surgeons can't do anything like that without a patient's consent. Since I was comatose, it was time to make some calls...
Rich had gone to the park to wait while I was under. Dr B called him, explained what she wanted to do and pretty much demanded (not asked) permission. There really wasn't much choice. Rich panicked a little, and said that they should really talk to my mama. So Mama was rung (instant heart attack material - telephone call on the mobile from your daughter's surgeon), and she agreed to the procedure. Basically, if we didn't do the procedure then, we would have done it in about four weeks anyway and I would have had to go through the whole thing again, only it would have had time to grow in the interim. So it was all systems go.
Dr B cut me from navel to pubic bone (quite neatly) and went in and removed all the tumour. She took out all that was visible, and then took biopsies from the left ovary, uterus, liver, and probably a whole bunch of other things. She then sewed me up quite neatly and I began the waking up process.
And boy, was it unpleasant. I was in pain when I woke up. People would come and speak to me, but the only thing I could say was "pain". I started saying it to people who were just walking past. They put me on fentanyl pretty quickly. Does anyone remember the chapter from my first journey on fentanyl? Yeah. Well. Fentanyl doesn't work for me. I don't know why, but we have officially confirmed it. Fentanyl DOES NOT WORK. My first day out was extremely unpleasant. I had a constant agonising pain in my stomach. I'm not good at describing pain, it all seems a bit cliched to me - my stomach was on fire, it felt like a rod of red-hot steel - none of it really describes it. It just fucking hurt. I really could think of nothing but the pain. Dr B tried to explain what she'd done - nope, completely uninterested. All I could think about was the pain and making it stop. Eventually the pain management team came and I was eventually switched onto morphine (apparently they don't even stock pethidine at the hospital). Things settled down a bit after that and I could think about something other than the pain. Richard could explain what had happened and I could take it in then.
Poor Richard. It was so hard for him to see me in such a state - he said it absolutely terrified him to see me so helpless. Once I came around I was stoned to the hilt as well, so definitely not my usual self. I think he really struggled to sit around and just be, with nothing he could do to help except be there. Brad came at about three, and I think that really helped Rich, just to have someone else who cared to just sit around quietly with. I vaguely recall telling Brad he could hold my foot. I remember it being nice and peaceful, with people who loved me there, but not making demands, so I could just drift in and out of consciousness. Jacqui came after work, and stayed with me while Rich went to pick Mama up from the airport (she booked the first flight she could down). They came back to the hospital late that night, so I could see Mama before I went off to sleep. It was so good to see her - it doesn't matter how old you are, there are times when a girl needs her mama, and being cut open is definitely one of those times.
I had a bad night - I was still in a fair bit of pain, and I had one of those nurses who really shouldn't be in the profession. She wasn't unpleasant, or mean, or anything like that, just - indifferent. No real interest in what she was doing or the people she was dealing with. Never smiled. Indifferent. And because I was fresh meat on the ward, I had "observations" (obs) every half hour or so - blood pressure, pulse, temperature. The change of shift at about midnight were quite nice, and a couple of nurses stayed for a bit of a chat when they noticed I wasn't really sleeping. I continued to drift in and out all night but didn't really get much quality sleep at all.
The next morning, something wonderful happened - the nurses came to give me a shower. It was awkward, it was painful to move - but oh, it was wonderful! The hot water! The clean feeling! Just bliss. With all my tubes and connections, it was awkward and difficult to negotiate, and it was definitely painful to get out of bed and move around quite so much, but it was lovely. Never have I enjoyed a shower so much. I then sat up in a chair for a couple of hours and felt like a proper big person again. (I then spent the rest of the day in bed, dozing, but hey, it was a start.) The day before, I had had no food. I didn't really notice that I was particularly hungry, but it felt a little strange to not be eating. Thursday, I started my clear fluids diet. Yum. Not. Vegetable broth and green jelly. I was so excited at the thought of getting fed that I didn't mind. Come chicken broth and red jelly for dinner, and I was less excited. Friday's tomato and rice broth with green jelly and I was OVER it.
Interesting thing about abdominal surgery. They pump you full of gas and move all your intestines around. They need to be sure that your digestive system is working again. And how do we tell this? When all that gas they've pumped you with makes its way through. And they won't feed you till it does. Yep, no farty-farty, no foody foody. Nice. And EVERYONE asks if it's happened yet. So, I got real food on Friday :)
I was feeling pretty good on Friday. I got my catheter taken out in the morning, and was doing well with the pain management, so I got my IV line taken out in the evening. I was free! Dr B came to see me, said I was doing good, and said I could go home the next day - on one condition. I was to do NOTHING. I was to lie around being waited on hand and foot by Rich and Mama. I agreed quite enthusiastically.
Today (Saturday) was frustrating. We knew we could go home, but still had to wait for the hospital pharmacy to give me my drugs. It took till 1.30 this afternoon, but the moment they came, we ran. I am free!
I am not allowed to walk anywhere until a full week after the surgery. No lifting, bending, stretching for four to six weeks, the longer the better. Normally people who have this surgery don't leave hospital for about a week, but my philosophy is that if others are doing it, then I'll do something completely different, thank you very much. There are some benefits to being young, fit and healthy when it comes to major surgery.
So, here comes my week of lounging on the couch, reading and watching movies! Jacqui is bringing me a box of Enid Blyton-style childhood books, which should keep me endlessly entertained! I am healing well, feeling quite good, and most importantly, I am home again.
Much love,
Jessie xoxo
posted by Jessie at 6:50 pm
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home