Surgery 2

 

The day before my second operation, one of my twins came down with a stomach bug. 

My husband popped to work in the morning and the twins were having breakfast whilst I lie on the sofa waiting for him to return. All of a sudden said twin stood up and projectile vomited all over the table and floor - it was everywhere - all over his pyjamas and even his hair. During the split second that I was deciding on what to clean, remove and scrub first - whilst comforting my crying toddler and trying to stop the other one from playing with the vomit - the doorbell rang. 

The doorbell?! now?  I leapt to the door and answered covered in fluids and breathing like I had run a marathon to a Vodaphone engineer. Our WiFi hadn't been working for several weeks and we had been chasing them for an engineer to come out and help, to which they had said that so close to Christmas they couldn't ensure the assistance- but they had come though, well and truly and during chaos. 

So I invited the gentleman in, to the river of vomit, crying toddlers and kitten who had made disgusting footprints after inspecting the mess. 

He spoke to me in deep breaths and I could tell he was trying not to gag but I was too busy dealing with the vomit flood and smiling through gritted teeth saying 'I'll make you a cup of tea in a minute if you want'! needless to say, he politely said no. 

Twenty minutes or so later, house disinfected and both children (and kitten) cleaned and comforted, my husband walked through the door, commenting on how clean the house was and proceeded to have a good old chat with the engineer whilst I lie in distress on the sofa, struggling to breathe and willing to curl up and die. I was already worried and anxious about the big operation the next morning and the timing could not have been worse - If I wasn't so out of breath I would have laughed (or cried). 

By lunchtime we had full signal, husband was back at work and my child that had thrown up a few hours before was complaining on how hungry he was - and declining my offers of gentle foods such as dry toast, seemed to be back to full health running around the room with his brother. My lovely friend Katy came round that afternoon (fully warned of vomit gate) and was due to look after our twins the following morning whilst we travelled into London to the hospital. It was a relief to have her help and distraction from the following day. She kindly stayed that evening and my friend Hannah came round with a Thai takeaway and a bottle of mulled wine. 

Even though due to my non-existent appetite I could eat little and drink even less - it was nice to have some sort of festive celebration that year and to feel almost normal - I'm thankful to them both for distracting me when I needed it the most. 

I had missed my office Christmas party that year, due to an MRI scan that fell on the same day. The funny thing was when we were driving through the city to the hospital and happened to drive past my office, to see my fellow colleague's all walking from the office to the nearby tube station or hailing down taxi's to travel to the Christmas party over in the west end. It was just a reminder on how unfamiliar my life had become; that very time last year it was I that had been jumping into a taxi to our office Christmas party that I had organised - so blissfully unaware on the direction my life was to turn. 

The next morning came around quickly, my husband drove us to the same hospital where I had my first operation. We were quickly taken to the ward and I was due to have the operation that morning. I was now familiar with the waiting process before the operation and my husband was aware of how anxious I was and was chatting away to me to distract me. 

After a quick catch up with my surgeon and anaesthetist; I was escorted down to theatre with my husband once again waiting in the hospital room for my return. 

The anaesthetic process hadn't become less terrifying for me the second time around (fyi - it hadn't the third time around either) and I was again convinced that I would be wide awake whilst being cut open  - yes again, face down with my body arched and my bum in the air with an audience - would be better unconscious wouldn't it? did you think it was the pain I was worried about?! 

However, the drugs did their job, as they do before millions of surgeries, operations, procedures and murders across the globe every day and I woke up in a different room, very sore and disorientated. The man sitting with me was lovely (he worked there as a nurse - not a random man) and was passing me cups of water whilst making small talk about Christmas and new year. 

He mentioned that he was going to go and talk to the anaesthetist to check whether I would be ok to go back to my hospital room and see my husband and walked out of the door next to me. I sipped some water and shuffled around to check how sore I was when suddenly said nurse came storming through the doors - I asked if he was ok and he said that the anaesthetist was a rude word (begins with p ends in rick) and that he had been 'shooed' away by the anaesthetist as he claimed he wasn't yet ready to come and see me to check me over. The nurse was muttering away on how the guy was on a power trip I just couldn't stop laughing, it was just what I needed, so refreshing from everyone talking to me in medical terms and telling how serious everything was and I had this flamboyant gentleman calling the anaesthetist a 'p****' in the most aggressive fashion, it just cracked me up - and I think because I was laughing, he was laughing and it was nice to share that moment, forgetting I was someone's patient for a few minutes. 

He had a point though, the anaesthetist held out for a long time and my nurse did chase him several times in between - whether he was genuinely  busy on on a power trip I have no idea, but by the time he finally did come and see me, the situation just seemed so comical that I was trying really hard to keep the giggles in. 

 Eventually I was given the go ahead to be wheeled to my room - being wheeled through the hospital always reminds me of something out of 'Casualty' or 'Holby City' - people look at you as your wheeled through and every time, no matter how groggy I am I always feel like I should smile as I'm being taken through - with all the drugs I am on I must look like a right state - all drunken eyed and wide smiled - that's probably why they are staring. 

 I slept for most of the day and woke up early evening to my husband making the most out of the hospital menu, feet up on the bed and clicking through the channels on the room television. He ordered me a cup of tea and I was soon being checked over by my nurse with my husband being told on how to care for my new open wound. 

The surgeon came in to discuss the operation at the end of the day and said how this time my bowel had thankfully not been damaged, but there had been a lot of septic fluid released from the cavity where the wound had healed over. I would need to be on a high dose of antibiotics for two weeks to keep my infection levels down; along with another set of high painkillers whilst the now open wound re healed. I was also offered to stay in hospital overnight, but with the lonely memories after the first operation I declined - Christmas was near and I wanted to get back home with my boys as soon as possible. 

We drove home from hospital and my husband suggested getting a fish and chip supper on the way back; my appetite that was non-existent for a month was back well and truly and all of a sudden I craved everything on the menu. We got home and I ate my dinner - plus half of my husbands and two helpings of 'Ben and Jerry's' ice cream as if my body knew the infection had gone, it no longer had to use all its energy and resources fighting it and was making up for lost time by consuming everything in sight. 

I knew Christmas would be difficult, with my body needing to recover during the festivities and that I wouldn't have as much energy, nor would I be able to drink alcohol or eat some of the foods I would usually. But I was home and alive and after everything I had been through that year, that was the most important thing.