14.9.09
Two more sleeps..
What can I say? French-stylie hand flannel glove purchased (the French nurses can't handle square flannels), hand towels washed and ready (likewise they are incapable of handling a bath towel!), betadine presciption poised, hair dryer ready to rock 'n' roll. Most importantly of all TV set to record STRICTLY COME DANCING!! LOL! [insert grinning smiley here].
13.9.09
REALLY counting down the days now...
I had an eventful weekend trying to avoid contact with folk who may have been in contact with the pig plague. Saturday night we had a couple from the next village round for a bbq. I was pretty confident they would be "clean" but we spent most of the evening in the good old outdoors anyway. Far too much booze got consumed and I ended up with a very upset tum which meant I wasn't up to going out today to meet up with another couple and some family recently arrived from Blighty. Maybe in a sense it was a blessing. Folk from Blighty, recently arrived by plane, lot of potential for nasty germs. Still feel a bit dodgy even now. May be time for a medicinal Armagnac and a surf in beddibyes. Three more sleeps in my own bed. Gulp!
11.9.09
The gas woman
Well, well, well. Wonders will never cease! Firstly it was a very charming and very efficient young lady on the check in desk who checked me in in about 5 minutes flat and actually requested the private room for me then and there. Then along the corridor to the anaethetist. Filled in a quick form, no-one else waiting, straight in!
Blow me down, it was the nice lady anaethetist who had been summoned to explain why I'd had the burning sensation last time and she recognised me (not difficult - fat, British bird with dodgy hips!) I told her I still had no sensation in that area and she proposed a possible other method of pain relief post op. Yet again SHE won't be there so goodness know what I shall end up with!! I've opted for the full-on GA this time. It worked okay last time so why not?
The bloods were okay but she laughed when she took my blood pressure - 158/110!!! Crikey WAY WAY above my normal rate (I have a regular more or less monthly checks as I take thyroid medication). She said it was an "emotional" rise and just put lots of exclamation marks next to it.
Now I am counting down the days...once more!
Ooo one more thing. I didn't have a blood transfusion last time but I did have my own blood recycled and transfused back into me. Ewww how yucky is that? Still, safe in the knowledge I have no French in me! LOL!
Blow me down, it was the nice lady anaethetist who had been summoned to explain why I'd had the burning sensation last time and she recognised me (not difficult - fat, British bird with dodgy hips!) I told her I still had no sensation in that area and she proposed a possible other method of pain relief post op. Yet again SHE won't be there so goodness know what I shall end up with!! I've opted for the full-on GA this time. It worked okay last time so why not?
The bloods were okay but she laughed when she took my blood pressure - 158/110!!! Crikey WAY WAY above my normal rate (I have a regular more or less monthly checks as I take thyroid medication). She said it was an "emotional" rise and just put lots of exclamation marks next to it.
Now I am counting down the days...once more!
Ooo one more thing. I didn't have a blood transfusion last time but I did have my own blood recycled and transfused back into me. Ewww how yucky is that? Still, safe in the knowledge I have no French in me! LOL!
9.9.09
It's been a while...
But here we go again!
Sorry about the huge gap in between but needless to say, things went well from that point in. I've had physio with the rather gorgeous Alex who has such a fabulous, deep laugh. Girls it's a laugh to well...think Barry White!! I've got a treadmill at home and an exercise bike. I've bloody well put on weight not lost it despite doing loads of exercise. I was told to ditch the stick in week 7 post op and have been hobbling round like a goodun ever since. Speedy Gonzales, moi!
I've forgotten the agony - haha!! I've had my bloods done, seem to be disgustingly healthy and tomorrow I'm off to see the anaesthetist again with a view to admission next Wednesday. I wonder if it will be the same miserable old cow at the reception desk as last time?
At lest I know what should be going on and the "tricks of the trade" to enable me to get out of hospital as soon as possible. Get using that single cane asap!
Sorry about the huge gap in between but needless to say, things went well from that point in. I've had physio with the rather gorgeous Alex who has such a fabulous, deep laugh. Girls it's a laugh to well...think Barry White!! I've got a treadmill at home and an exercise bike. I've bloody well put on weight not lost it despite doing loads of exercise. I was told to ditch the stick in week 7 post op and have been hobbling round like a goodun ever since. Speedy Gonzales, moi!
I've forgotten the agony - haha!! I've had my bloods done, seem to be disgustingly healthy and tomorrow I'm off to see the anaesthetist again with a view to admission next Wednesday. I wonder if it will be the same miserable old cow at the reception desk as last time?
At lest I know what should be going on and the "tricks of the trade" to enable me to get out of hospital as soon as possible. Get using that single cane asap!
14.7.09
Monday - out of bed
Things are supposed to get better as each day passes, aren't they? The problem is when it's happening to YOU, you don't necessarily see it.
Thankfully with the arrival of the zimmer it meant at least I could get out of bed and avoid the dreaded bed pan. Also I now had a nice room to myself. I declined breakfast as it really wasn't worth having but that may have proved to be a mistake.
Nursey came for the dreaded toilette. It was a different set of nurses. They seemed a little less friendly than the previous lot. One reckoned I didn't speak good enough French considering I had lived in France for nearly five years. Well that was red rag to a bull and I all of a sudden became "fluent". She laughed and said I spoke great French when I was angry! To be honest, I really couldn't be arsed to converse much as I was tired, in pain and generally miserable.
I made my way to the bathroom and made the fatal mistake of trying to do my wash standing up. All seemed to be going swimmingly, Johnny popped his head round the door and kindly left me a newspaper. I'd more or less finished, had struggled into my own night attire instead of the horrible hossie gown when I felt ill. A drop in blood pressure, I felt violently sick and thought I was going to faint. If only I had got my trusty smelling salts!! I pulled to emergency bell and stood there. Fortunately there was a chair just in the doorway and I managed to sit before I actually fell over. The things going through my mind - I didn't want to fall and break something else, I didn't want to be sick.
The nurses seemd to take an age to arrive but when they did they rushed around and helped me back to my bed. A senior nurse came rushing in and took my blood pressure and it was pronounced my blood pressure must have dropped but was now nearly back to normal. I failed to mention I hadn't had anything to eat - oops and had stood up for the first time in 4 days! Double oops.
Thankfully with the arrival of the zimmer it meant at least I could get out of bed and avoid the dreaded bed pan. Also I now had a nice room to myself. I declined breakfast as it really wasn't worth having but that may have proved to be a mistake.
Nursey came for the dreaded toilette. It was a different set of nurses. They seemed a little less friendly than the previous lot. One reckoned I didn't speak good enough French considering I had lived in France for nearly five years. Well that was red rag to a bull and I all of a sudden became "fluent". She laughed and said I spoke great French when I was angry! To be honest, I really couldn't be arsed to converse much as I was tired, in pain and generally miserable.
I made my way to the bathroom and made the fatal mistake of trying to do my wash standing up. All seemed to be going swimmingly, Johnny popped his head round the door and kindly left me a newspaper. I'd more or less finished, had struggled into my own night attire instead of the horrible hossie gown when I felt ill. A drop in blood pressure, I felt violently sick and thought I was going to faint. If only I had got my trusty smelling salts!! I pulled to emergency bell and stood there. Fortunately there was a chair just in the doorway and I managed to sit before I actually fell over. The things going through my mind - I didn't want to fall and break something else, I didn't want to be sick.
The nurses seemd to take an age to arrive but when they did they rushed around and helped me back to my bed. A senior nurse came rushing in and took my blood pressure and it was pronounced my blood pressure must have dropped but was now nearly back to normal. I failed to mention I hadn't had anything to eat - oops and had stood up for the first time in 4 days! Double oops.
12.7.09
Sunday - don't bother visiting
I was very upset with what had gone on so far that Sunday, as with the whole weekend to be honest. I was in pain and confused and to top it all had to face the "toilette" thing again. This time I know what to expect only they threw a curved ball. The wound drain, which to be honest I hadn't realised existed, was removed - boy THAT stung! Then the epidural thing in my back was removed and the wound dressing changed.
I was free of everything that linked me to the bed the downside is I had to move...out of the bed...and onto a chair! A brand new zimmer frame appeared, as did a lovely commode. I was assisted out of bed and onto the zimmer then finally onto the commode where I was wheeeled into the bathroom and left to brush my teeth and "perform" in privacy. I managed the smallest of pees and the nurse sternly told me I was not producing enough and probably had an infection. Well I had news for her, if you don't drink and don't eat there won't be much to come out!
I did eventually manage to get onto my chair, modestly covered, bas hiding knees and gown covering most other things. Dr G arrived, did his usual, sternly told me it was the last day of rest as from then on we were going to work. I needed to be using one cane as quickly as possible.
I called hubby and advised I was up for visitors and he and faithful house elf Dobbie turned up. En route to where? The boozer of course, I have no doubt!! LOL! I forgot to mention, I had had one non-family visitor the day before, Johnny, who came bearing magazines and a lovely pot plant. Flowers were not allowed but the pot plant had it's own container and could be placed out of the way of nurses on top of the cupboard.
I was free of everything that linked me to the bed the downside is I had to move...out of the bed...and onto a chair! A brand new zimmer frame appeared, as did a lovely commode. I was assisted out of bed and onto the zimmer then finally onto the commode where I was wheeeled into the bathroom and left to brush my teeth and "perform" in privacy. I managed the smallest of pees and the nurse sternly told me I was not producing enough and probably had an infection. Well I had news for her, if you don't drink and don't eat there won't be much to come out!
I did eventually manage to get onto my chair, modestly covered, bas hiding knees and gown covering most other things. Dr G arrived, did his usual, sternly told me it was the last day of rest as from then on we were going to work. I needed to be using one cane as quickly as possible.
I called hubby and advised I was up for visitors and he and faithful house elf Dobbie turned up. En route to where? The boozer of course, I have no doubt!! LOL! I forgot to mention, I had had one non-family visitor the day before, Johnny, who came bearing magazines and a lovely pot plant. Flowers were not allowed but the pot plant had it's own container and could be placed out of the way of nurses on top of the cupboard.
Losing track of time and another scare
The Saturday post op passed in a bit of a blur. Hubby came to visit. To be honest I wasn't up to facing anyone - dressed in a skimpy hospital gown, in lots of pain and feeling very miserable. Breakfast was the cereal bowl of coffee, lunch was a very nice beef stew and very flobby tagliatelli, dinner was soup, and gawd knows what else. Most of the food was unrecognisable, cooked to within an inch of it's life and all the same colour! No I lie, the soup varied slightly in colour but tasted the same, every time! Good job I didn't feel hungry or thirsty for that matter.
I mastered the art of the bed pan but still felt a bit out of it and sleepy. A new weekend "night crew" came on duty. On the whole I couldn't fault the nurses. They were kind and attentive. The magic buzzer had them coming running.
There are various grades of staff on duty. For an outsider it's pretty hard to distinguish who is who as they all wear exactly the same uniform. White trousers and a white tunic with an iron-on name badges. I suppose if I'd looked closely I could have worked out who did what. Anyway there was the nice short blond lady who seemed to mainly be resposible for bedpans and a nurse more qualifified to dispense medication. The real "nurse" came across as very efficient, seemingly achieving every duty she had to attend to speedily. She rigged up new drips, telling me they would be disconnected the following day anyway, checked the pump (was there enough to last the night? Mmmm....). The night passed. A piddle or two on a bed pan and an extreme burning sensation once more in my left thigh. In case I haven't mentioned this before my operation was on my RIGHT hip and my left side should not have been affected at all, especially not changes in sensation.
Morning came, along with pain. I needed desperately to do a pee and pressed my buzzer. The nice lady came in, cheerily saying hello and opening the shutters. She bent to insert the bedpan in the appropriate position but I could not for the life of me raise myself up to get on it. Not without extreme pain anyway. She rushed out and called for the "nurse" who came in and rigged up a drip with pain relief. All seemed to be going well, I could see the medication dripping nicely, the nurses changed shifts and then all of a sudden I realised all was not right. My arm was swelling up like a balloon with the skin becoming tighter and tighter. OMG my arm is going to explode!!!
A nurse from the day shift arrived and told me not to worry, the "perfusion"was not going into a vein as it should be but into my arm! So much for that super efficient night nurse!! She said not to worry and she'd soon sort it out. At this point I was quite alarmed. She came back and removed the canula, which was a relife in itself, and put some red hot compresses onto my swollen arm and bandaged it up. What catalogue of disasters.
Breakfast once again and my kindly voisine shared with me some of the spoils her neice had brought in for her the previous evening - a nice, buttery croissant! She was discharged later that morning and also left a large bag of cherries her husband had brought in for her. I don't know what her name was but I am glad she was there.
I mastered the art of the bed pan but still felt a bit out of it and sleepy. A new weekend "night crew" came on duty. On the whole I couldn't fault the nurses. They were kind and attentive. The magic buzzer had them coming running.
There are various grades of staff on duty. For an outsider it's pretty hard to distinguish who is who as they all wear exactly the same uniform. White trousers and a white tunic with an iron-on name badges. I suppose if I'd looked closely I could have worked out who did what. Anyway there was the nice short blond lady who seemed to mainly be resposible for bedpans and a nurse more qualifified to dispense medication. The real "nurse" came across as very efficient, seemingly achieving every duty she had to attend to speedily. She rigged up new drips, telling me they would be disconnected the following day anyway, checked the pump (was there enough to last the night? Mmmm....). The night passed. A piddle or two on a bed pan and an extreme burning sensation once more in my left thigh. In case I haven't mentioned this before my operation was on my RIGHT hip and my left side should not have been affected at all, especially not changes in sensation.
Morning came, along with pain. I needed desperately to do a pee and pressed my buzzer. The nice lady came in, cheerily saying hello and opening the shutters. She bent to insert the bedpan in the appropriate position but I could not for the life of me raise myself up to get on it. Not without extreme pain anyway. She rushed out and called for the "nurse" who came in and rigged up a drip with pain relief. All seemed to be going well, I could see the medication dripping nicely, the nurses changed shifts and then all of a sudden I realised all was not right. My arm was swelling up like a balloon with the skin becoming tighter and tighter. OMG my arm is going to explode!!!
A nurse from the day shift arrived and told me not to worry, the "perfusion"was not going into a vein as it should be but into my arm! So much for that super efficient night nurse!! She said not to worry and she'd soon sort it out. At this point I was quite alarmed. She came back and removed the canula, which was a relife in itself, and put some red hot compresses onto my swollen arm and bandaged it up. What catalogue of disasters.
Breakfast once again and my kindly voisine shared with me some of the spoils her neice had brought in for her the previous evening - a nice, buttery croissant! She was discharged later that morning and also left a large bag of cherries her husband had brought in for her. I don't know what her name was but I am glad she was there.
11.7.09
Oh, the complete and utter indignity
I have mentioned I share my room with a nice French lady. She had had an operation on her ankle to remove a small spur of bone which was causing her extreme pain. She was a nice lady and took the time to chat and talk about nothing in particular.
Well I had witnessed her having to use the bed pan. The nurses were fairly adamant that no-one should attempt to get out of bed to go to the toilet post op. My neighbour was fairly succcessful in her attempts to go "pee pee". She merely had an ankle operation but try doing the same with after an operation to a crucial part of the anatomy when it comes to using a bed pan - the buttock and thigh. Jeez it was impossible to start with. At first I thought I wanted to go, well it was expected of me and post-op one of the things they make you do - a successful piddle. But I couldn't. It just wouldn't come. They tried a female urinal but with some nurse standing next to you shoving a plastic thing into your crotch it was NEVER going to happen!!
Eventually, I "mounted" the regular bed pan and the nurse left me alone and I managed, somehow, to produce a dribble. The sensation when using a bedpan is horrible. You can't really tell if your aim is true and you can feel the piddle go in places it does not normally go. Not nice. Then you have to balance on it to clean yourself. Well, mission completed at least.
It gets worse....
A nice nurse come breezing in - "time for your toilette" she says. OMG what is this going to involve? Well, a lot of gritting of teeth and thinking of England is all I can say. Those with a delicate disposition need read no further...
Toilette is the time when you wash. Whilst you are washing they take the opportunity to change be sheets etc. Well needless to say as I was attached to all sorts of tubes I was not going to be able to get out of bed so the bed was changed around me.
Also there is ZILCH privacy, no curtain nothing to separate you from your voisine....
The first thing Nursey did was untuck all the sheets, then took off my hospital gown. The she went to find my grooming equipment which does not bear up to her exacting standards. Only bath towels and no hand towels, no wash glove. She filled a bowl with water and proceeded to wash me, quite literally HEAD TO TOE. Believe me, no crevice went unwashed. And all this in front of my roommate and several other nurses.
The all time worse part was when they had to roll me on my side to wash my back (I had the epidural pump attached) and to put clean sheets onto the bed. That was scary and extraordinarily painful. Don't be afraid Nursey says. Easier said than bloody done. Breathe she says - how can I breathe when I haven't the foggiest idea what they are going to do next? Then I was rolled back onto my operated on side ARRRGGGHHHHH!!! PAIN!!!!
The bed was made around me. They decided I was too tall for my bed and wanted to move me further up the bed so 3 nurses all grabbed a bit of bedsheet and I grabbed the bar above my head and we attempted to "otch" up the bed with limited success.
I donned the now familiar hossie robe and then my poor tired legs were squeezed into the "bas de contention" - super strength support tights designed to help prevent DVT etc.
That day passed, dozing, waiting for a visit but quite pleasantly dosed up with medication.
Well I had witnessed her having to use the bed pan. The nurses were fairly adamant that no-one should attempt to get out of bed to go to the toilet post op. My neighbour was fairly succcessful in her attempts to go "pee pee". She merely had an ankle operation but try doing the same with after an operation to a crucial part of the anatomy when it comes to using a bed pan - the buttock and thigh. Jeez it was impossible to start with. At first I thought I wanted to go, well it was expected of me and post-op one of the things they make you do - a successful piddle. But I couldn't. It just wouldn't come. They tried a female urinal but with some nurse standing next to you shoving a plastic thing into your crotch it was NEVER going to happen!!
Eventually, I "mounted" the regular bed pan and the nurse left me alone and I managed, somehow, to produce a dribble. The sensation when using a bedpan is horrible. You can't really tell if your aim is true and you can feel the piddle go in places it does not normally go. Not nice. Then you have to balance on it to clean yourself. Well, mission completed at least.
It gets worse....
A nice nurse come breezing in - "time for your toilette" she says. OMG what is this going to involve? Well, a lot of gritting of teeth and thinking of England is all I can say. Those with a delicate disposition need read no further...
Toilette is the time when you wash. Whilst you are washing they take the opportunity to change be sheets etc. Well needless to say as I was attached to all sorts of tubes I was not going to be able to get out of bed so the bed was changed around me.
Also there is ZILCH privacy, no curtain nothing to separate you from your voisine....
The first thing Nursey did was untuck all the sheets, then took off my hospital gown. The she went to find my grooming equipment which does not bear up to her exacting standards. Only bath towels and no hand towels, no wash glove. She filled a bowl with water and proceeded to wash me, quite literally HEAD TO TOE. Believe me, no crevice went unwashed. And all this in front of my roommate and several other nurses.
The all time worse part was when they had to roll me on my side to wash my back (I had the epidural pump attached) and to put clean sheets onto the bed. That was scary and extraordinarily painful. Don't be afraid Nursey says. Easier said than bloody done. Breathe she says - how can I breathe when I haven't the foggiest idea what they are going to do next? Then I was rolled back onto my operated on side ARRRGGGHHHHH!!! PAIN!!!!
The bed was made around me. They decided I was too tall for my bed and wanted to move me further up the bed so 3 nurses all grabbed a bit of bedsheet and I grabbed the bar above my head and we attempted to "otch" up the bed with limited success.
I donned the now familiar hossie robe and then my poor tired legs were squeezed into the "bas de contention" - super strength support tights designed to help prevent DVT etc.
That day passed, dozing, waiting for a visit but quite pleasantly dosed up with medication.
The day after the night before
God that night was the worst of my life. The pain was almost unbearable. Dr G came to visit wiith his entourage (as he does) and I said I'd had a lot of pain at which point he flipped and the poor nurses got the full force of his wrath. Oh dear. One nurse was present who explained to the others what the pump was, how it functioned etc. Same old questions - can you feel your feet, do you have much pain....YES I BLOODY WELL DO! Also, a newly acquired sensation in my left thigh. A searing, buring pain. I had mentioned it before but no-one really took any notice.
Dr G moved on and the "breakfast" arrived. Good God I had forgotten how the French enjoy their breakfast. The kind lady came into the room and asked me what she could get me for breakfast at which point I said a cup of coffee. A smallish tray appeared with what appeared to be a cereal bowl...full of black coffee!! To accompany it, 2 bits of "french toast", a pat of butter and a tub of indifferent jam. I struggled to work the controls on my bed and managed to sort of lever myself into a positiion where I could at least drink the coffee, thought eating anything without major spillage proved more difficult.
Dr G moved on and the "breakfast" arrived. Good God I had forgotten how the French enjoy their breakfast. The kind lady came into the room and asked me what she could get me for breakfast at which point I said a cup of coffee. A smallish tray appeared with what appeared to be a cereal bowl...full of black coffee!! To accompany it, 2 bits of "french toast", a pat of butter and a tub of indifferent jam. I struggled to work the controls on my bed and managed to sort of lever myself into a positiion where I could at least drink the coffee, thought eating anything without major spillage proved more difficult.
10.7.09
So much for gold star pain relief....
The surgery all went well, post op blood pressure and oxygen levels all hunky dory, so much so that they decided I no longer needed my blood pressure medication which is good.
Dr G came to visit me and seemed happy. "Can you feel your feet? Can you move your toes?" Mm, where have I heard that before? Yes as it happens I can but I have a strange sensation on my left thigh. Odd. More on that later. He came and went.
My voisine enjoyed her supper and I lay there. I didn't feel like eating anything in fact. Just as well as the hospital food was, in a word, DISGUSTING!
I felt a bit drowsy and dosed off. Various nurses came to visit during the night and the dratted blood pressure monitor woke me up just as I dropped off. During the night the pain started to increase. A LOT. I called the nurses and they rigged up a drip above the bed but it seemed to make little impact. I pressed my button and tried to not think about it but by the time morning came I was in agony. Nurses had been in and out checking various drips but they had not checked the epidural pump which was hidden from sight under the sheets by my side. The drug had run out and I had in fact not been getting any pain relief at all.
The epidural pump gizmo it seems was a brand new peice of kit that no-one seemed to know anything about. In fact it was supposed to simplify the nursing staffs lives and give the patient some control. Oh dear NOOOOOO! I have never ever felt so much pain before in my life. At that point if someone had turned up with a gun I would have begged them to put me put me put of my misery. The whole idea was that the pain would be controlled but by God someone slipped up very badly and I was left suffering. No wonder I felt so bloody depressed. At that point I wondered why the hell I had bothered with the surgery. I was better off and in less pain before!
Dr G came to visit me and seemed happy. "Can you feel your feet? Can you move your toes?" Mm, where have I heard that before? Yes as it happens I can but I have a strange sensation on my left thigh. Odd. More on that later. He came and went.
My voisine enjoyed her supper and I lay there. I didn't feel like eating anything in fact. Just as well as the hospital food was, in a word, DISGUSTING!
I felt a bit drowsy and dosed off. Various nurses came to visit during the night and the dratted blood pressure monitor woke me up just as I dropped off. During the night the pain started to increase. A LOT. I called the nurses and they rigged up a drip above the bed but it seemed to make little impact. I pressed my button and tried to not think about it but by the time morning came I was in agony. Nurses had been in and out checking various drips but they had not checked the epidural pump which was hidden from sight under the sheets by my side. The drug had run out and I had in fact not been getting any pain relief at all.
The epidural pump gizmo it seems was a brand new peice of kit that no-one seemed to know anything about. In fact it was supposed to simplify the nursing staffs lives and give the patient some control. Oh dear NOOOOOO! I have never ever felt so much pain before in my life. At that point if someone had turned up with a gun I would have begged them to put me put me put of my misery. The whole idea was that the pain would be controlled but by God someone slipped up very badly and I was left suffering. No wonder I felt so bloody depressed. At that point I wondered why the hell I had bothered with the surgery. I was better off and in less pain before!
It's all a bit of a blur.....post-op 26 June 2009
The next thing I recall is waking up in the recovery room. I don't think I was alone. It seemed quite bright and warm. It felt like I was crying but I'm not entirely sure and have no recollection of any particular reason for me crying. It all seemed to be going smoothly, no major panicks, all calm, all okay.
The next part I am unsure exactly what order these things occured. Bear in mind I'd just had a GA, was in France, I am not a native French speaker. For all I know they could actually have been speaking English or my befuddled brain was enough "together" to understand French!!
I recall them trying to roll me onto my left side, presumably to insert the post op epidural for pain relief. At this point there was some agitation as it did not seem to go as planned and there seemed to be some fannying around trying to intert the needle into my back. I don't really know what was going on but I've always experienced problems whenever anyone has tried to insert anything into my spine or in the general region. I am very glad I was obviously not quite "all there"!! Anyway, they seemed to succeed and I was rigged up to an epidural "thingy" which administed pain relief. It administered a set dose but also there was a natty button to press for me to top it up if necessary. "Gold star" pain relief they said - ha ha (more on this later).
It was likely at this point I actually asked (again I assume in French) what time it was - 12:10 I was told.
Then the surgeon came up to me, muttered that it had all gone well and then he stroked the side of my face said he'd see me later. It transpired that was the only bit of "bedside manner" this man is capable of. He is good, he knows it, he's the boss and everyone, I mean everyone, deferred to him.
I was at some point put back into my own bed and given the intruction to hit the pain relief button and then wheeled back to my room, to be reunited with my lovely French voisine.
Back in the room I was rigged up to a blood oxygen monitor and an automatic blood pressure monitor that took measurements about every 30 minutes. Very annoying when you are trying to sleep!
Hubby arrived at some point in the afternoon - not sure when and I suspect I was't quite with it as I don't recall much.
The next part I am unsure exactly what order these things occured. Bear in mind I'd just had a GA, was in France, I am not a native French speaker. For all I know they could actually have been speaking English or my befuddled brain was enough "together" to understand French!!
I recall them trying to roll me onto my left side, presumably to insert the post op epidural for pain relief. At this point there was some agitation as it did not seem to go as planned and there seemed to be some fannying around trying to intert the needle into my back. I don't really know what was going on but I've always experienced problems whenever anyone has tried to insert anything into my spine or in the general region. I am very glad I was obviously not quite "all there"!! Anyway, they seemed to succeed and I was rigged up to an epidural "thingy" which administed pain relief. It administered a set dose but also there was a natty button to press for me to top it up if necessary. "Gold star" pain relief they said - ha ha (more on this later).
It was likely at this point I actually asked (again I assume in French) what time it was - 12:10 I was told.
Then the surgeon came up to me, muttered that it had all gone well and then he stroked the side of my face said he'd see me later. It transpired that was the only bit of "bedside manner" this man is capable of. He is good, he knows it, he's the boss and everyone, I mean everyone, deferred to him.
I was at some point put back into my own bed and given the intruction to hit the pain relief button and then wheeled back to my room, to be reunited with my lovely French voisine.
Back in the room I was rigged up to a blood oxygen monitor and an automatic blood pressure monitor that took measurements about every 30 minutes. Very annoying when you are trying to sleep!
Hubby arrived at some point in the afternoon - not sure when and I suspect I was't quite with it as I don't recall much.
9.7.09
Friday 26 June 2009
Well it's today. Nursey comes breezing into room at some unearthly hour (5:30am)and tells me I need to shower and get back into bed. I ask her if I need to wash my hair again, she sort of shrugs, it's still damp from the night before so we get away with it. Showered in betadine once again and slip into the sexy black number they give me then climb back into bed. Only I shouldn't have climbed into bed I should have laid on top of the bed. Oh well. How the bloody hell was I supposed to know?
No going back now. The preparation begins...more nurses arrive and try to insert a canula for the administration of drugs. Bloody hell THAT hurt. I am a brave little soldier and smile sweetly as the nurse struggles to find a suitable vein. I didn't mention but they had the same trouble yesterday when trying to take some blood samples. Allegedly I have moving veins habloodyha. Funny how at the local lab when I need my regular check up for thyroid levels they have no problem at all! Even I know it would be a whole lot easier if they raised the bed to a decent height and sat down to try to do it rather then being bent double hanging over me. I'm no nurse, what do I know? I am ending up bruised to buggery but thankfully for them (or they would all have black eyes) am fairly tolerant.
Well, I am rigged up to assorted drips, saline, antibiotics and am given a small pill. Pre-med I assume. Then yet another nurse comes in and swabs my right leg and thigh down with a much stronger betadine solution so my poor leg is bright orange. They put a small paper shoe on my "good" foot and a paper hair net affair for my hair. Very attractive I am sure!!!
My surgery is scheduled for 8:30 am and they come to wheel me away at 7:30 am. The whisk off my glasses so from that point on it's all a bit of a blur. They take me and my bed out down to the theatre. On the way out the nice lady in the next bed whispers "bon courage" and waves me off. Definitely no going back now!!
As I said, it's a bit of a blur but from what I recall I was taken down several floors in a lift then out to what seems to be a pre-op area. It was bloody cold and the nurses with me apologised. It was also at this point I left my comfy bed behind and had to "otch" myself across onto a sort of trolly to cross a small area then finally "otch" once more onto yet another trolley and into what I assume was the theatre. The trolly was narrow and very uncomfortable and they wanted me to lie flat with my legs straight which was horribly uncomfortable.
So I am there, in what appears to be the theatre itself. Lots of begowned and behatted folk moving around in an efficient type manner. Most alarmingly I could hear instruments being clanked around. I dare not imagine what it actually was. Black and Decker maybe?
So there I am, balanced on this trolley designed for a skinny, midget Frenchman. An arm stretched out each side crucifix stylie - blood pressure and blood gas monitors attached, EGC attached, modesty robe ripped off (yes I am still conscious at this point) but covered with a thin cotton sheet. Am I cold? Yes I bloody well am!! They drape a bizarre plastic thing over me and attach a hot air blower which reminded me a lot of those old fashioned hair drying hoods. I had to laugh!!
Then things started to go a bit awry. I had discussed the type of anaesthestia I wanted and what had been recommended was an epidural with a light sedative. Unfortunately, it was a different anaesthetist and not one of the details in my notes seems to have been followed. You're having a general anaethetic? That's what you selected, right?" Says this behatted bemasked blur. "No, I thought it was an epidural." Too late now!! Breathe deeply, breathe deeply...the last words I heard before I must have dosed off into Neverneverland.
Well I didn't have any dreams, no nightmares, no recollection of anything.....to be honest a GA worked for me!!! LOL!!
No going back now. The preparation begins...more nurses arrive and try to insert a canula for the administration of drugs. Bloody hell THAT hurt. I am a brave little soldier and smile sweetly as the nurse struggles to find a suitable vein. I didn't mention but they had the same trouble yesterday when trying to take some blood samples. Allegedly I have moving veins habloodyha. Funny how at the local lab when I need my regular check up for thyroid levels they have no problem at all! Even I know it would be a whole lot easier if they raised the bed to a decent height and sat down to try to do it rather then being bent double hanging over me. I'm no nurse, what do I know? I am ending up bruised to buggery but thankfully for them (or they would all have black eyes) am fairly tolerant.
Well, I am rigged up to assorted drips, saline, antibiotics and am given a small pill. Pre-med I assume. Then yet another nurse comes in and swabs my right leg and thigh down with a much stronger betadine solution so my poor leg is bright orange. They put a small paper shoe on my "good" foot and a paper hair net affair for my hair. Very attractive I am sure!!!
My surgery is scheduled for 8:30 am and they come to wheel me away at 7:30 am. The whisk off my glasses so from that point on it's all a bit of a blur. They take me and my bed out down to the theatre. On the way out the nice lady in the next bed whispers "bon courage" and waves me off. Definitely no going back now!!
As I said, it's a bit of a blur but from what I recall I was taken down several floors in a lift then out to what seems to be a pre-op area. It was bloody cold and the nurses with me apologised. It was also at this point I left my comfy bed behind and had to "otch" myself across onto a sort of trolly to cross a small area then finally "otch" once more onto yet another trolley and into what I assume was the theatre. The trolly was narrow and very uncomfortable and they wanted me to lie flat with my legs straight which was horribly uncomfortable.
So I am there, in what appears to be the theatre itself. Lots of begowned and behatted folk moving around in an efficient type manner. Most alarmingly I could hear instruments being clanked around. I dare not imagine what it actually was. Black and Decker maybe?
So there I am, balanced on this trolley designed for a skinny, midget Frenchman. An arm stretched out each side crucifix stylie - blood pressure and blood gas monitors attached, EGC attached, modesty robe ripped off (yes I am still conscious at this point) but covered with a thin cotton sheet. Am I cold? Yes I bloody well am!! They drape a bizarre plastic thing over me and attach a hot air blower which reminded me a lot of those old fashioned hair drying hoods. I had to laugh!!
Then things started to go a bit awry. I had discussed the type of anaesthestia I wanted and what had been recommended was an epidural with a light sedative. Unfortunately, it was a different anaesthetist and not one of the details in my notes seems to have been followed. You're having a general anaethetic? That's what you selected, right?" Says this behatted bemasked blur. "No, I thought it was an epidural." Too late now!! Breathe deeply, breathe deeply...the last words I heard before I must have dosed off into Neverneverland.
Well I didn't have any dreams, no nightmares, no recollection of anything.....to be honest a GA worked for me!!! LOL!!
Thursday 25 June 2009
Bag packed, nighties ironed, betadine scrub and towels ready, a couple of spare knickers all ready to go. All aboard the skylark bound for territory unknown.
We arrive at the hospital at the predestined time 15:00. The same miserable old hag is on the reception desk as checked me in and prepared my dossier the week before. Thankfully she did not recognise me. Did I get the single room I asked for? Did I buggery! Room 410, second floor, show the nurses this bit of paper when you get there.
We duly take the lift, find the pre-allocated room and look wildy around for someone to tell us what to do next. As ever there's no-one in the vicinity until someone turns up and waves us in the direction of room 410. We sneak in. Someone is already in the room, sleeping. My bed is by the window, not a bad view but it means I have to pass the other bed every time I want to use the bathroom and risk disturbing the other occupant. My loving husband then feels it is time for him to leave to return to work, much to my utter disgust, but there's little he can do so he leaves. I sit down quietly in the chair next to my allocated bed and wonder, wonder what to do next....
Evenutally a nurse type person turns up. She sits down and goes through a file - have I any allergies, do I take medication, what diet would I like (ha ha). Meanwhile the lady in the next bed gently snores off the after-effects of her anaesthetic. There's nothing left for it. I may as well start to read my book. Later an shortarse Frenchman comes in. He is an anaesthetist. He mutters something that he may come back later or see me in the morning then asks how tall I am. Odd question but I am considerably taller than you are matey!! Then the "chief" arrives. The man himself, Mr Ogre, the all knowing, all ruling SURGEON! He speaks to the lady in the next bed then comes over to me briefly. We discuss which hip his to be done (as if he didn't know alredy) then he vanishes, along with his entourage.
The afternoon becomes early evening, the "food" arrives (more on that later) and I wonder what to do next. When I am I supposed to take this betadine shower and will someone help? I tentatively press my sonnette. A nursey arrives and I ask her whento take the shower and will someone ehlp. No she can't help due to cross infection but if I can't manage all my bits she will help me with my second shower scheduled for the morning.
It looks like the time has come. The shower HAS to be done. I assemble the necessary gubbins and hobble off to the "bathroom". The shower is tiny with hardly any room to move. No shower curtain and the risk of creating a small lake follows. The betadine scrub is supposed to foam, yeah right! No it bloody well doesn't and no amount of rubbing would makes it get anywhere near foam so I squirted myself liberally with the stuff and rubbed away. There's no way in a million years I am going to beable to scrub my feet so I give them a liberal squirt and leave it on for a while.
Shower done. The tiny bathrooms is hot and humid and despite liberal rubbing down, with long wet hair,there's no way I am going to get dry. I ask the nurse folk if they can lend me a hairdryer which makes little or no impression so I give up. I do my best to slip into a long nightie but am sweaty and sticky and it's not a pleasant feeling. There's not a lo t else I can do apart from climb into bed, clean sheets, clean nightie and try to get some kip ready for the BIG DAY! GULP!
We arrive at the hospital at the predestined time 15:00. The same miserable old hag is on the reception desk as checked me in and prepared my dossier the week before. Thankfully she did not recognise me. Did I get the single room I asked for? Did I buggery! Room 410, second floor, show the nurses this bit of paper when you get there.
We duly take the lift, find the pre-allocated room and look wildy around for someone to tell us what to do next. As ever there's no-one in the vicinity until someone turns up and waves us in the direction of room 410. We sneak in. Someone is already in the room, sleeping. My bed is by the window, not a bad view but it means I have to pass the other bed every time I want to use the bathroom and risk disturbing the other occupant. My loving husband then feels it is time for him to leave to return to work, much to my utter disgust, but there's little he can do so he leaves. I sit down quietly in the chair next to my allocated bed and wonder, wonder what to do next....
Evenutally a nurse type person turns up. She sits down and goes through a file - have I any allergies, do I take medication, what diet would I like (ha ha). Meanwhile the lady in the next bed gently snores off the after-effects of her anaesthetic. There's nothing left for it. I may as well start to read my book. Later an shortarse Frenchman comes in. He is an anaesthetist. He mutters something that he may come back later or see me in the morning then asks how tall I am. Odd question but I am considerably taller than you are matey!! Then the "chief" arrives. The man himself, Mr Ogre, the all knowing, all ruling SURGEON! He speaks to the lady in the next bed then comes over to me briefly. We discuss which hip his to be done (as if he didn't know alredy) then he vanishes, along with his entourage.
The afternoon becomes early evening, the "food" arrives (more on that later) and I wonder what to do next. When I am I supposed to take this betadine shower and will someone help? I tentatively press my sonnette. A nursey arrives and I ask her whento take the shower and will someone ehlp. No she can't help due to cross infection but if I can't manage all my bits she will help me with my second shower scheduled for the morning.
It looks like the time has come. The shower HAS to be done. I assemble the necessary gubbins and hobble off to the "bathroom". The shower is tiny with hardly any room to move. No shower curtain and the risk of creating a small lake follows. The betadine scrub is supposed to foam, yeah right! No it bloody well doesn't and no amount of rubbing would makes it get anywhere near foam so I squirted myself liberally with the stuff and rubbed away. There's no way in a million years I am going to beable to scrub my feet so I give them a liberal squirt and leave it on for a while.
Shower done. The tiny bathrooms is hot and humid and despite liberal rubbing down, with long wet hair,there's no way I am going to get dry. I ask the nurse folk if they can lend me a hairdryer which makes little or no impression so I give up. I do my best to slip into a long nightie but am sweaty and sticky and it's not a pleasant feeling. There's not a lo t else I can do apart from climb into bed, clean sheets, clean nightie and try to get some kip ready for the BIG DAY! GULP!
So it begins
The decision was made, the date fixed, the bloods and multiple x-rays, ECGs and more all done and a ok. Will they or won't they? I have mossie bites. Will it be a site for infection will they say no? Well no they didn't say no and it went ahead. Whether it was a good thing or a bad thing I have yet to be convinced at present.....
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