[Originally posted on Thursday, August 11, 2011]
Hello all, first off thanks for all the kind thoughts and good wishes. You have no idea how much it means. Thanks also to my good friend Juls for keeping the blog going and taking such good and patient care of me (I do ring that cow bell a lot)
I am so happy to be home and in my own bed I can’t tell you, although I do miss my morphine drip quite a bit but one has to sacrifice. How was it? …… we it bloody well hurt if you want to know the truth. Oh yes, they are all smiles and welcome to the surgery unit as if you are the latest member of this exclusive country club. Draw some blood, sign a form, take your temperature….give you little booties and a warm blanket. Then they whisk you up onto a gurney and you glide slowly through empty halls and into and out of elevators as if you are queen of the parade on your very own float. Up up you float into pre-op. What a jolly lot they are in there too. I have to say some of this jolliness does help tp douse the flames of fear that lurk below the surface of my calm, almost jovial demeanor. First off the IV ,I always heard that those in the back of you hand hurt like hell…..not a thing did I feel, bloomin marvelous. Before long I am being wheeled into surgery where my Dr B is waiting, sans mask, with a big smile and a “how’s my favorite patient” I didn’t even get to count back from 10.He sat on the side of the operating table (actually sat on the operating table!) and held my hand and one minute we were talking the next Peter was standing by my bedside telling me it was all over and everything had gone well. Although I come to find out 61/2 hours had passed (a lot longer than the four it was supposed to take) in the blink of an eye.
OK, so far so good, then you try to move your body, Ha ….not so fast missy. I think I spent the first two nights clutching that little morphine button to my chest and pressing the life out of it again and again. It then seemed to me that the catheter must not be working because I had all sorts of pain down there as if my poor old bladder was going to burst. So they took it out…..great, accept and please remember this if you are ever in the same situation. When it’s out you are on your own. Now I had to get myself out of bed and go to the bathroom. Ha bloody ha ha ha. I tried to work on the drop and roll technique that Henry the night nurse had taught me but man, was that hard. I pushed all the buttons on that damn adjustable bed but could not seem to get it in a good position to roll off. Then they take away your drip….that feels a bit like a baby having mother’s milk yanked from your grasp….No, no please bring it back….I promise to be good. Alright, slight exaggeration but you know what I mean.
So now I’m home under the excellent care of Julie (nurse Ratchet) and Peter. I don’t have much of an appetite (everything tastes like metal) and my diet is extremely limited so I’m sure I’m not much fun to look after but Julie is as patient as a saint and Peter, well he has the name of a saint………
I’ll sign off for today and tomorrow I’ll tell you all about my illeostomy