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 :)
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