Bruised and battered but painkillers working!
Well dear friend, what a day, what a day indeed. Real lows but incredible highs too. Boys dropped off at school and Jeans (our fabulous childminder, who is so much more than that) so on our way to hospital for the minor op to insert a portacath and have a CT scan. Incredibly, arriving at 9.15 you can get a parking space in the hospital grounds. Feeling the sun shining and confident that the car park ticket would be ample time I strode towards radiology. Water and snacks in hand, stomach full from my 5am porridge. Got to the department and was soon settled my very own cubicle. Fetching hospital gown that was rather last season soon adorned me and I got comfortable on the trolley bed with my kindle and water bottle. Nursing staff lovely and kept reassuring me it would be soon that the doctor would see me to sign the consent form. Well I waited and waited and waited. Did enjoy watching the comings and goings of the radiology department. Anyway to cut a long wait short I met doctor (Partridge, on the first day of christmas my true love sent to me…) and got taken down about 11am, an hour and a half later than expected. Then the fun started…
Jack, I shall call him because that was his name, attempted to stick a needle in the crook (great word) of my left arm in order to insert a cannula to get the antibiotics in after the operation. Well the reason I was undergoing the insertion of the portacath was because my veins are small and it really really hurts to have this done. He tried and tried, I cried and cried. Not the best start. Lots of conversation going on above me, which in itself is distressing, about my veins, syringes and alternatives. Doctor P then tried to get a vein, without success so agreed to do the antibiotics intravenously. Now this had been agreed I felt calmer but then all the op prep started, starting with me being covered in blue to keep me clean innocent of the procedure. To be absolutely fair he was a super doctor and did explain everything that he was doing and all that I should or shouldn’t be feeling but I just don’t handle lack of control. First of all lots of horrible stinging injections of local anaesthetic, then cutting, inserting of tube, inserting of portacath, then sewing, interspersed with lots more stinging injections. All of which was done with my head facing right, looking out beneath a cloak of blue, holding a nurses hand. She did take every opportunity to get the things the doctor needed in order to shake her hand out, I was squeezing very very tightly. Be warned that if you come to any occasion with me that your fingers will be bruised! Nurse Sue kept me going throughout. She was a lovely, lovely lady who kept talking about her family, her pets, her holidays in such a way that kept me distracted from the awfulness that was going on. I know so many people go through so much worse but when you are there, that is not what goes though your mind.
Chest x- ray then back to my cubicle after an hour and a half (nearly 12.30 by this time), longing for a cup of tea but no! Nil by mouth for the CT scan, except it wasn’t nothing it was a litre of aniseed drink, not my favourite flavour but it looked a damn sight more appetising than the milky liquid my fellow patents were downing. An hour to drink that, then oh joy of joys, a cannula need to be put in my vein in order to inject the dye for the CT scan to work. This I really did try for as I put it in the “the last time this’ll be done” box. Now someone else’s turn to try, the superintendent of the scanning. “Found a lovely one there” she said, “that’s a good one”. Need I say more , you know the rest of the story. Doctor P came back and tried again and did succeed in the back of my right hand. Paul’s turn (again) to have his fingers squashed, I think it was the opposite hand to last time!
The scan itself was fine, and over in seconds, although when the dye went in I did feel as though I had wet myself! And the room was really cool, it kept changing colour, which gave me something else to thinks about as I was predicting the next colour in the sequence. Finally I had the chance to have biscuits, tea and more food. Now it was about 2.15, 9 hours since my delicious porridge, and strangely enough I had not felt hungry at all. Even my stomach had shut down for the day! I. More than made up for it later with my dinner (fish and chips) and pudding (carrot cake, sent from Jean).
Dinner wash definitely a highlight, as was the post on my doormat. Clarey wins the “who can send Helen the most cards” prize. Defiantly cheered me up to hear about her supporting role in Kate’s marathon achievement. And, and, and not one but two parcels from Heather M, a beautiful scarf and a guardian angel in one and a fab blue wig in the other, watch this space for the photo! Thank you dear friends for all the cards and pressies, your inspiration to cheer me up is endless xxx
Now to bring you up to date. It is 11am and I plan to stay in bed as I find it upsetting not to be able to give my Samson a cuddle in case he squeezes too tight on my tender chest. I am being spoilt with cups of tea, chats to you and actually enjoying the prospect of doing nothing much of any use to humanity. Long long blog today so will be quiet tomorrow then fill you on on Monday after my next hospital visit (straightforward “flushing” of my new doo-dah). Looking forward to a normal week once the wounds start to heal before my C2 dat.
Keep the communication coming and let me know your news,
Have a good one!
Helen xxx