Post Surgery

I had a dream while I was in surgery, and I’ve been told this is a rare thing to happen. Which made it feel like a long time, and it was. I went into surgery at 2pm, and was in the ward at 6pm. I was in recovery for 15mins before being moved. That made my surgery about 3.5 hours when we were told 2-2.5. The only thing I remember about recovery was being woken up with the feeling I had been sleeping for hours, and the nurse asking if I needed to use the bedpan or if I could wait for the ward.
I could most defiantly wait.
They wheeled me up to the ward that I shared with another lady. Before my family could come in and see me I was made to go to the bathroom. At the time I was thinking I didn’t need to go, but it turns out I did. I don’t usually drink that much, and as a result, I don’t go to the loo that much, but over those 24hours I went soo much. And I was in pain too, so I didn’t want to, but I had to. Damn stupid drip. Getting out of bed wasn’t easy when I had to try and push myself up without using my arms.

After going to the loo and getting back into bed my entourage was allowed in. Abby, mum, nana, Ethan and Geoff. And dad was on his way. Thank god they weren’t too strict about the 2 person visiting rule. Abby brought with her the video camera so I’ve had a look back at the footage and oh-my-fucking-god. I was so out of it and spacey. I mean, I THOUGHT I was fine, but woah. I’m glad she brought it in, I told her to, I wanted it all recorded. We had a chat, and the entourage left just as dad arrived.

Dad left about 7.30pm. My TV wasn’t working (I didn’t know how to work it) so I read, and dozed, and sent dozy text messages. I couldn’t reach my bag with my iPod so it was a rather quiet night. I slept TERRIBLY. What with the nurses coming in every hour to take blood pressure, temperature and pulse and then sleeping in a weird place in a bed that’s not my own on my back when I’m used to being face down in my pillow. Between 1am and 2am I read until I finished my book, and then I dozed in and out for the rest of the night.

When I woke the next morning I didn’t feel that great. My breakfast was brought which I didn’t eat, and then the nurse came in to help me bathe. I was feeling nauseous. A reaction from the anesthetic, but one that took a while to manifest itself. I felt like crap. When Nana and Mum arrived I looked as white as the sheet I was lying on. Nana told the nurse I wasn’t feeling well, and the nurse gave me a couple of shots in my iv line for the nausea. Nana had to leave that day so she said goodbye and left. Mum stayed and I felt bad for having her there and just sleeping so I tried to stay awake. The doctor came in and said that I could be looking at heading home today. I thought she was crazy. I looked and felt like utter crap. Mum had a mini freak out, but more because she hadn’t cleaned the house.


Even under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have cared.

I just had surgery, I cared even less.

After she said that I went to sleep for an hour. When I woke mum said she was going to go home and tidy and to call her when I knew if I was going to be discharged or not.

I slept for the rest of the morning. Lunch came but I didn’t eat anything. I was still feeling funny in the tummy and not up to eating. And the food frankly didn’t smell that appetizing. So I slept some more. Around 2ish Bronwyn came to visit. We talked for a bit, and then she went out to pick me up some REAL food. Pizza, ok, not real, but sooooo much yummier than the production line hospital food I had been forced to eat so far. The doctor came around again and discharged me.

To be honest I was worried about this decision, but the nausea had passed and I hadn’t used the morphine pump since that morning. That and I’m not a doctor. She never came very close to me at all, in fact she had an appalling bedside manner, but she did think I was fit to go home and I’m not a doctor myself.

While I was waiting for mum to arrive and for the discharge papers I really needed to go to the loo. I shared a bathroom with the room next to me and on our side it had been showing locked for a good while now. I couldn’t wait any longer so poked my head out the door to see if there were any other loo’s close. Nope. There weren’t. I was starting to dance around now with 2 thoughts on my mind.
1) I need to f@#$%^ go NOW and 2) I hope they’re ok in there, what is taking so long?!

In the end Bronwyn went down the hall to the nurses station to ask if someone could check up on them. I didn’t want to walk out looking like a mental patient with weird swelling. And oh yes, I had weird swelling. The nurse unlocked the door and checked for us. Turns out, whoever was in there last had accidentally locked it behind them, goddamn.

When I finally had a good look at the boobs I now possessed I was worried.  The right sat unnaturally high and stuck out to the side, and left, lower and to the side. They were hard with all the swelling, and frankly I was mortified. No one was going to see me until they settled down. After a couple of days they were down, thank fuck. One is still a little larger than the other, due to excess swelling. When the bruising came up my boobs were yellow for a couple of days. The right defiantly had more work done to it.

I was discharged the day after the surgery. I got home, and went to bed and slept again for another 2 hours.

I’ve been feeling rather good. Hardly any pain at all. More discomfort. I can’t do my hair yet, or hold my hands up for long. I tried to drive today (11days after) and it’s still hard. I drive a manual with no power steering. It was a mission to drive BEFORE the surgery. Fingers crossed we can have the manual with power steering fixed before I go back to work. Otherwise, it could be difficult. I still have no strength in my arms to do anything like that, and I’m worried about pulling a stitch. I have a post-op meeting on Tuesday.  Hopefully the bandages can come off and I can shower properly.


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