On Monday 2nd November, I woke up in a bit less pain and the nurse encouraged me to sit out in a chair. This took a lot of help from nurses to get me sitting up, swinging my legs around and flopping into the chair. It was thought that this would help to get the bowels moving as I had been very static for 5 days. It didn't help hugely but it did give the nurses the chance to give me a better wash and to change my bed properly without having to roll me around.
A bed had been found for me on the recovery ward and so I was due to move later in the day. Having not had any sign of bowel movement, I took the plunge and agreed to an enema. This is not a pleasant experience and all dignity goes out of the window! After having the enema, I felt 'movement' quite soon after. The nurses bought out 'the chair' (a commode)... unfortunately, not much happened - I just lost the enema juices. This is just delightful isn't it!! Only telling it like it was!
Shortly after, I was moved to the ward. This is where we get to mum's favourite bit...
I was lying in bed having just got to the ward when the magic happened. I farted. We were all absolutely delighted and no one more than myself! I let everyone know and didn't hold back. Then it carried on. And on. And on. It went on to the point where I was no longer laughing but was starting to panic that it might be more than just a fart (it's very difficult to tell when you're on an air mattress)... I had to try and calm mother down so that she could get the nurse to come and check. Again, dignity was half way across England by this point!
The first nurse that I met on the ward was the lovely Sophie. She was about my age and very softly spoken and gentle. She was also very efficient. One of the first things I had asked when I got to the ward was if I could have my hair washed. After the trauma of the fart incident, Sophie made sure that my hair got washed which made me feel a hundred times better. As someone who tends to wash their hair almost every day, waiting 5 days to have it done was torture and it felt heavy and disgusting. Not only that, but the bright blonde was well overdue for a touch up but that wasn't quite something the hospital staff could stretch to!
During the day, I managed some small bites of food but I had a problem that not many people seemed to understand. My senses felt completely overwhelmed, particularly my sense of smell. This meant that I was really sensitive to smells and flavours. Any perfume that was being worn was too much, hand creams were really strong and food was just a step too far. All I wanted was plain rice and no-one could quite comprehend this! The first food I asked for was late in the afternoon and I requested weetabix with hot milk and a bit of sugar. Even that was too strong smelling and also too hot so by the time it was cool enough, it was just a stodgy mess that had gone slightly sticky... not the greatest success. Caius bought in some of the microwaveable rice packets for me and that was exactly what I wanted. The nurses and catering staff were completely befuddled by this and kept trying to offer me gravy or sauce to put on the rice. Nope, plain rice was all I wanted.
Later that day, I was visited by the physio team who showed me a technique for getting out of bed and with an arm on either side for support and someone pulling my drip stand around, I managed to walk the 10 yards to the toilet. This was a major achievement and I was thrilled to have done it.
Having been in bed for 5 days wearing the very attractive hospital attire, I had requested a few nighties so that I could feel more myself. The position of the scar meant that pyjamas were not really an option as I was so tender.
This felt like a day of progress and I finally started to feel as though recovery was going in the right direction.
Keep Smiling :)
Wednesday 27 January 2016
Friday 22 January 2016
Intensive Care
Intensive care is one of the most incredible places to be. Obviously it's not somewhere you would electively request to go, but as far as being in hospital goes, they are amazing units.
I spent 5 days in intensive care (partly because there was no space for me on the recovery ward) and whilst those days are rather fuzzy for me, I do remember how high tech everything was. I was hooked up to lines that fed me, gave me fluids and made sure that my glucose and insulin were balanced. I also had my pain relief. This was a drug called fentanyl. This was administered as a continuous dose with an additional PCA - patient controlled analgesia. I was given a button to press each time I felt that I needed some pain relief.
At the heart of all this incredible high tech equipment were the staff. It takes a special kind of nurse to work in intensive care. I must have been a relatively straight forward patient to look after. My surgery although major, was essentially elective and takes place on a fairly regular basis. I had no complications with my surgery and I was generally lucid during my recovery. However, I could barely move and could do very little for myself. The nurses who looked after me were the most caring and patient people I have come across. I remember not being able to properly ask for things and often gestured for things like water and for my lips to be looked after as they were unbelievably dry. The nurses also had to wash me and keep me moving. Above all of that, they had to put up with my inane ramblings and keep me company. Every single one of the nurses on the intensive care ward gave an absolute 5 star service and I have never felt so well looked after.
My first full day in intensive care was, according to mum's notes, a bit of a painful one. The PCA was a godsend. I also had a visit from a very good friend who came in with the most adorable card...
We had a good long chat and I think I thoroughly enjoyed our catch up but I honestly cannot remember anything I said. All I remember is that we sat together and had a really good chat. I think I also recorded a message for Abi on this day but my memory is very fuzzy!
I spent 5 days in intensive care (partly because there was no space for me on the recovery ward) and whilst those days are rather fuzzy for me, I do remember how high tech everything was. I was hooked up to lines that fed me, gave me fluids and made sure that my glucose and insulin were balanced. I also had my pain relief. This was a drug called fentanyl. This was administered as a continuous dose with an additional PCA - patient controlled analgesia. I was given a button to press each time I felt that I needed some pain relief.
At the heart of all this incredible high tech equipment were the staff. It takes a special kind of nurse to work in intensive care. I must have been a relatively straight forward patient to look after. My surgery although major, was essentially elective and takes place on a fairly regular basis. I had no complications with my surgery and I was generally lucid during my recovery. However, I could barely move and could do very little for myself. The nurses who looked after me were the most caring and patient people I have come across. I remember not being able to properly ask for things and often gestured for things like water and for my lips to be looked after as they were unbelievably dry. The nurses also had to wash me and keep me moving. Above all of that, they had to put up with my inane ramblings and keep me company. Every single one of the nurses on the intensive care ward gave an absolute 5 star service and I have never felt so well looked after.
My first full day in intensive care was, according to mum's notes, a bit of a painful one. The PCA was a godsend. I also had a visit from a very good friend who came in with the most adorable card...
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| As a crazy dog person, this is just the card I needed! |
Day 3 (October 31st) was apparently more of a painful day. In some respects, I'm thankful that I can no longer remember the pain that I was in but in others, I wish I could so that I could try and convey the full experience. I remember that there was an awful lot of pain but I can no longer recall where it was or liken it to anything which is really frustrating.
I did have a visit from my lovely cousin Hannah on this day. We had a good long talk about her time in Hong Kong and how her course in tropical diseases was going. Mum, Dad and Caius were also with me nearly all of the time and by this time I was beginning to pick up on some kind of routine that visitors had to do. Before coming in, they had to wash their hands and put on a plastic apron to prevent infections being spread.
I started to drink small amounts on Saturday but still wasn't eating and had no desire to. This is unheard of for me. Bear in mind that my last meal had been on Wednesday night and it was now Saturday! Food has always been important for me - mainly because before the transplant, it had so much of an effect on me. Eating the wrong things had often put me in hospital and with diabetes I had to try to keep control of my diet. I also like to keep as healthy as possible through eating the right things. As well as that, the dose of steroids I had been on had an impact on how much I wanted to eat!
This, I believe, was also 'cheese and prunes' day. As a bit of a Michael McIntyre fan, I always crack up at his 'cheese/ prune' sketch and if you haven't seen it, I suggest you take a look - it's from the 2012 'Showtime' show. To give you an idea, here are my 'Cheese' and 'Prune' faces:
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| CHEESE! |
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| PRUUUNES |
Day 4 (November 1st) was another painful day. I think this was the day when I was moved into a semi private room in intensive care. The pain was causing me to cry out quite a lot and this was possibly disturbing to other patients. I think it was on this day that I was surrounded by doctors, probably about 5 or 6 in the room talking about how they were going to proceed with my care. I remember being in agony; whimpering and calling out, not making any sense. Most of the doctors were talking and seemingly oblivious to the fact that I was in pain. At this point, I remember one of the younger members of the team stopping everything to say that before anything else could happen, they needed to get my pain under control. This was one of the first times that I felt as though the doctors were doing something that would help. Before this, they had generally been poking and prodding and to me, it seemed as though they were doing more harm than good! I have never thanked anyone as sincerely as I thanked that doctor. Finally, it seemed as though someone was on my side and that they were going to do something about the pain.
I remember the nurse on this day. She was amazingly reassuring and when I didn't have visitors in, she was by my side holding my hand and reassuring me that every patient went through a really bad day before they started to improve. At the same time, she was also firm and ensured that I was working hard to get myself better. This included trying to cough which was absolute agony!
I remember the nurse on this day. She was amazingly reassuring and when I didn't have visitors in, she was by my side holding my hand and reassuring me that every patient went through a really bad day before they started to improve. At the same time, she was also firm and ensured that I was working hard to get myself better. This included trying to cough which was absolute agony!
The other small problem I was facing was poo. Or lack of. I had had no bowel movement at all since before surgery. Apparently they don't like to send post-op patients to the recovery ward without some evidence of bowels waking up. After such major surgery with large quantities of anaesthetic and considerable nerve damage, doctors like to make sure the body is waking up again but it seemed that mine was being a bit slow!
One of the other things I noticed around this time was my smell. I felt like I absolutely reeked and my breath and mouth felt disgusting. I was given another bed wash and had my gown changed which feels more lovely than I would have imagined. I was also given a mouthwash which was not so pleasant. The nurses used these sort of lollipop sponges to dampen my mouth when I wasn't drinking and also soaked them in corsodyl to clean my mouth. If you have ever used this stuff as a mouthwash, you will be fully aware how disgusting it is! I was reassured by those around me that I didn't stink but have to say, I still remember feeling horrible even after being cleaned up by the wonderful nurses. Again, they are not paid enough for what they have to do!
Keep Smiling :)
Wednesday 6 January 2016
Wakey Wakey...
First of all, an apology. This hasn't turned out to be quite what I'd hoped it would be. I had hoped for a detailed recollection of all that I went through with the transplant and recovery but have left it far too long for that. Instead, what you will get is a lightly fuzzy, sometimes second hand account of my time at the Royal Free.
Secondly, I would like to emphasise that this is an account of what happened to me. The transplant experience and recovery process is different for everyone so whilst I hope this can provide some information about what to expect from recovery, each and every person will respond differently.
I was woken up from surgery at around 7pm on Thursday 29th October and was taken to Intensive Care where my parents were finally allowed to see me. I cannot imagine the sense of relief they must have felt to see me having not quite made it to the hospital before I went into surgery. Personally, I don't remember any of this evening so what you read is taken from notes made by Mum.
Apparently, though massively doped up, I was awake, telling jokes and singing... One of my favourites was spurred on by Caius' frequent sighs of 'ay, ay ay'. This led to the following little ditty:
Ay, ay, ay, ay
Si, si senora,
My sister Belinda,
She pissed out the window
And filled up my brand new sombrero
This was of course recited at the top of my voice. Thankfully at the time, my vocal volume wasn't what it usually is!
I also liked to remind people that I was a little glow-worm... (a glow worm's never glum, 'cos how can you be grumpy when the sun shines out your bum).
It appears that I also wanted to remind my mum how much I loved her and kept saying 'I love you mummy'.
As I have said, I don't remember any of this. When I came out of surgery, I was pumped full of a variety of painkillers which were being administered through lines in my neck. I was hooked up to machines which constantly monitored my stats such as heart rate, oxygen level and loads of others. I also had an oxygen tube up my nose, lines in each of my arms and a catheter in. I'm pretty sure I went to sleep fairly early despite having been asleep all day!
The following photos may be difficult for some people to view as they show the lines and monitors that I was hooked up to. I do feel however, that it is important to show everything that the transplant procedure entails.
Secondly, I would like to emphasise that this is an account of what happened to me. The transplant experience and recovery process is different for everyone so whilst I hope this can provide some information about what to expect from recovery, each and every person will respond differently.
I was woken up from surgery at around 7pm on Thursday 29th October and was taken to Intensive Care where my parents were finally allowed to see me. I cannot imagine the sense of relief they must have felt to see me having not quite made it to the hospital before I went into surgery. Personally, I don't remember any of this evening so what you read is taken from notes made by Mum.
Apparently, though massively doped up, I was awake, telling jokes and singing... One of my favourites was spurred on by Caius' frequent sighs of 'ay, ay ay'. This led to the following little ditty:
Ay, ay, ay, ay
Si, si senora,
My sister Belinda,
She pissed out the window
And filled up my brand new sombrero
This was of course recited at the top of my voice. Thankfully at the time, my vocal volume wasn't what it usually is!
I also liked to remind people that I was a little glow-worm... (a glow worm's never glum, 'cos how can you be grumpy when the sun shines out your bum).
It appears that I also wanted to remind my mum how much I loved her and kept saying 'I love you mummy'.
As I have said, I don't remember any of this. When I came out of surgery, I was pumped full of a variety of painkillers which were being administered through lines in my neck. I was hooked up to machines which constantly monitored my stats such as heart rate, oxygen level and loads of others. I also had an oxygen tube up my nose, lines in each of my arms and a catheter in. I'm pretty sure I went to sleep fairly early despite having been asleep all day!
The following photos may be difficult for some people to view as they show the lines and monitors that I was hooked up to. I do feel however, that it is important to show everything that the transplant procedure entails.
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