Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Home, at last. I say at last, because that felt like one of the longest stays ever, that includes the one month addmissions.I feel stressed and tearful, which I hope is exhaustion, but is probably the post surgery moods I seem to get.
Good news, bad news, which to say.
ah the delightful feeling stressed. Im going to go from the time I woke up after the op. I am not exactly a beigner when it comes to surgery, but waking up, was one of the most scary things I have had in ages. Usually by the time my memory and ability to know what is going on kicks in, I am in the recovery, pumped full of meds and what not. Not this time. I was still in the theatre, I could see people around me and something wasnt right. Breathing was such effort. I wanted to tell them something wasnt right, but it took all the strength I had to move my eyes. I literally could not move, yet I knew what was going on. I remember the journey down the cold hall to recovery. I remember trying so hard, to lift a hand or scream or something but I couldnt. By the time I got to recovery, I had screwed my face up and was fighting back tears of fear. I think they assumed I was in pain and soon doped me up with morphine, which sedated me a little and dropped my desire to breathe. And yet the fear was still there. Thinking back, the same sort of thing has happened the last two times as well, though not as server. I remember being awake in the past yet unable to move. I can honestly say that was one of my top 10 scary moments and it wont leave my head today.
Im sure you can imagine, that I was pretty stressed by the time I got shipped to a ward. The morphine made me itch like crazy so I asked for some piriton, which I got about 2 hours later, though I also asked the doc to change me off tramadol as that also makes me itch, but I dont think he was listening.
I was then offered something to eat to which I said yes, but two hours later there was no sign. At this point, I was more awake and watching the time. I was on my own and knew mum would be anxiously awaiting a call or text to say I was out.I always text her as soon as I get back. But my bags hadnt been bought to the ward, so I asked for them and was told they would get them. After an hour, worrying about mum, I asked if I could use the phone, to let her know, which I did do. While I was also standing at the nurses station I asked about my bag, to which I was told it must be locked on the day ward and I would have to wait till 10 am the next day to get it. At this point I did kick up a fuss. All my medication was in it, including my anti rejection meds, so I refused to let it lie. In the end they were trying to get hold of security to go open the ward to open it. I asked if I could get some food as I hadnt eaten in almost 40 hours and could feel myself shaking, to which I was handed the menu and told I could pick out my dinner for tomorrow (bear in mind this 10 pm) Then, I was flicking through my charts, as you do and noticed they all had my normal ward written on them, so I asked if it were possible my bag had been sent up there.
Heres the best bit. Im sitting on the end of my bed waiting, and I see something run across the floor. I thought nah, im seeing things. I know that lack of sleep and morphine both make me hallucinate so I thought nothing of it. Until I saw something else run across the floor and behind the door. At this point, I thought, Im going to check that out. So I creep over to the door and behind it, peering up at me, is a little fluffy mouse.
I went down and asked the nurse if he knew that there were mice on the ward, to which he kinda went oh errm yeh, what bay are you in. Ok, so you know there are mice and yet you have patients in the ward! I asked him about food and as I had mentioned the mice, he couldnt get me food quick enough. About 20 mins after this, my bag turned up, on the other ward and so I was able to take my meds and go sleep, with my bag and all belongings on top of the locker.
They wanted me to stay longer on the ward the next day. I gave them till dinner time and then refused to stay any longer. I had to get out of their. I hate the effect morphine and exhaustion have on me but all the other things where building up too and I felt like screaming.
So, the good news, well kinda.
My surgeon walked in and the first words he said were, when are we going to sort your airway out. I just laughed and said, thought that was your job to tell me. My airway is still a mess. I literally get a maximum of 3 days out of it before it starts declining again. So he wants to have another go at an open rescetion, with skin grafts and a trach and a stent again. He wants to work slightly lower this time, in hopes of dragging it open more. So I have agreed with that. He says I will only be in for a week, but he has said that on both the long addmissions. At this point, I say I dont care as long as there are no mice about.
So he asked if I am busy early January, to which I said no. So, in 2 weeks, I will be going back to theatre, for resection number 3.
Probably not what most people would say is good news, but it is, it gives hope once again. It shows that I am not over reacting when I say its not improving, its getting worse. Hopefully 3 is the magic number.
Though Dad says I have to go back in 2 weeks anyway, as I have pet mice down there to take care of.
Alas, I know I should complain and I am disgusted that they have mice on a ward. But then comes the whole, will it effect my treatment. blah