Furry friends

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

hospitals and more hospitals

What an exhausting few days. So much has happened in a short time and right now, I feel totally spaced out.

So Sunday, I still felt rough, but managed to get going. Took all my meds, managed to eat and got the train to London. I dont usually sleep on the train, but within 10 minutes of sitting down, I was dead to the world, and didnt wake at any of the stops, until people started getting off Euston.

The sleep must have done me good as by the time I got to the hospital I felt a million times better. I must not have sounded it though as the nurse attacked me with nebulisers within 2 minutes of getting through the door. Perhaps it was the heart rate of 135 that sent him a little anxious. Either way, I slept all night, changed wards once the staff changed over,got ready for theatre and then slept all morning till about 1pm.

Went down to theatre about 2pm. Nothing special really, had a natter with my surgeon as we discussed the uselessness of the hospital and such, exchanged the usually banter with the irish male nurse dude who is to easy to wind up and then off to sleep.

Upon waking, things didnt feel right. I knew it wasnt right, everything was aching and I was using my accessory muscles to breathe. I tried telling them what was wrong, but I was to spaced out to coordinate talking. Time plays tricks on you in there, but I know I saw a series of people. From the recovery room doc, to my anesthetist, to my surgeon to another anesthetist, xray and a few more besides. We think that my upper airway had swelled more than normal,which was making breathing hard. After an extra hour or so in recovery,lots of yummy meds and some extra painkillers as my muscles were so sore I thought I had run a marathon, I was finally sent back to the ward, to be closely monitored.

I needed the loo, so my nurses said, i know you dont like to be hassled so i wont get you a commode as we are supposed to, just let me know if you feel ill. haha. and that was the end of my monitoring.

Everything passed uneventful. My surgeon said things are looking good, but we are still going to keep treating it aggressively with monthly admissions. And I got the train home the next morning.

And that is where the fun began.

I had had my painkillers increased but when I got off the train, I was not due any for at least an hour, so decided it would be good to run some nebs and have a nap. When I awoke, I felt really hot and sick. Took some anti nausea medication and then ran the loo as it wouldnt stay down. Over the next 4 hours I spent the most of it throwing up. My mouth was so dry, I couldnt even use medication that dissolves in your mouth. I was so dehydrated, but I couldnt do anything about it.

So, once my dad got home from work, it was off to A&E. Mum couldnt take me for obvious reasons and so poor dad got stuck with it after working a 12 hour shift. Sat in A&E for 4 hours before seeing a doc, again i spent most of it in the loo. Finally got an IV going and sent off bloods and got some IV anti sickness stuff. At this point the stuff made me go a little loopy and I kept talking absolute crap and losing my thoughts mid sentence.

I sent my dad home as he had to be up at 5am and it was already 1am. So more xrays, more fluids and more tests. by 4:30, they decided it was my chest playing up and the stuff off my chest upsetting my stomach. Pushed through some more IVs, let me sleep a little and then made me drink loads. As what I drank stayed down for a few hours, they declared me fit and discharged me.

I got home at 8am this morning. and yeh. Exhausted still shaky and sick, but tryin to keep fluids up. Apprently the doc could see a lot of scaring on my xray, but that will all be dealt with by my chest consultant. And right now, I am trying to run a load of nebs as my chest i think has more fluid in it right now than my blood stream heh.

And that was my night. Watching and laughing at some of the dramatics in A&E. Such as one lady screaming in pain in her abdo, and over dosing on her inhaler to get rid of said pain. Not sure how that one works as the inhalers only go to the lungs, but I guess it would shove her pulse rate up enough to get some attention. Plus she only seemed to scream when there was a nurse about. And the guy walking around clutching his chest, looking like he had heart burn or indigestion, but all the while, drinking an acidic fruit juice. on my and these people actually go and sit in A&E.

I look like a scruff as I have not washed, and have tape marks up my arms from bloods and gases and lines and what not. but its all good as I dont plan on seeing anyone today and may just push to having a bath later.