Lockdown taught us many things. The biggest lesson it taught my husband and I is how difficult it is to entertain not one, but two toddlers when you have not got the luxury of soft play, play parks or swimming pools to entertain them - when they become bored with their toys or books and TV or Disney films just don't cut it. We ended up buying them a new slide and playhouse that spring, along with lots of new books just to keep them entertained. We taught them how to bake bread, to grow fruit, vegetables and how to plant flowers. Our house was also transformed that spring, in a spring clean to the max - almost every room was re decorated and the boys tried a hand at helping to paint with their dad - which ended up in chaos as you can imagine - but a lot of fun.
I spent my 30th birthday during the first national lockdown - we were meant to go away as
a family to Cornwall at a rented cottage with my parents, my
brother, and his fiancé. In fact, my brother and
his fiancé had just told me that she was six
weeks pregnant with our now nephew - they had not told our
or her parents and it was all a big secret - we
were planning ways in which I could drink her alcoholic drinks for
her without being noticed whilst we were away. About two weeks before we were due to leave, the owners of the cottage sadly
informed us we would no longer be able to stay there and then it was announced by the government that it would be frowned upon for anyone to travel down
south during lockdown; our week away was cancelled and I was
devastated. I felt guilty as I was devastated over a
holiday whilst thousands of people were losing their lives, but
I was thinking about all the events I had lost out on due to my
illness, all the time I had lost and just as I felt I had finally reached the point where I would be able to enjoy my birthday, our trip
was taken from us too. However, as I've already mentioned, I ended up having one of the
best birthdays I've had; we spent the entire day in the garden -
my husband handing me a bucks fizz upon request (what a guy!)
, splashing about in the hot tub and then a romantic candle
lit BBQ dinner with fairy lights all around - it was perfect. We
dressed up as if we were going out for the evening and sat on the
decking until late with champagne - I could not ask for
anything more.
As I said, I was due to return to work the day after the first lockdown was announced - when then, my return became a return to work from home - I quickly adapted and eased back into my job role and learning how to join the many zoom meetings that at first felt strange and impersonal but now feel like second nature a year later.
Lockdown eased towards the summer and we were able to socialise in small groups whilst the weather was nice, we even managed to go camping. Nothing will compare to the boys seeing either set of grandparents for the first time; It was incredibly exciting to be reunited. Everything seemed as though it was getting easier - I felt healthier - but the pain in my back was still there and was getting worse - I put it down to leaning over the laptop whilst working from home and didn't think much more of it.
In August 2020, I was invited
back to the hospital for a routine MRI scan - It had been
six months since the last operation and my surgeon wanted to check my
progress. I felt sick walking to the hospital from
the car, just seeing the hospital I stayed at, bought back feelings that made
me feel panicky and want to cry - I
had just celebrated a year since the first operation and I was keen to get the
scan over and done with so that I could put it behind me.
I want to state here that I hand on
heart, genuinely thought that the results would be all clear - it had been six
months and although I had lower back pain, I felt normal - no gut feeling and
no concern. I had even arranged a phone call with my surgeon, instead of
travelling up to the hospital to get my results, as I thought it would be a five minute
conversation confirming no further change. As soon as I answered the phone, I
knew something was wrong - he seemed more serious, even guilty, in his voice and
he just said 'I’m so sorry'.
He reported that the MRI scan
results showed that another tumour had been found and it needed to be removed
straight away. As soon as he said that it would mean another stay in hospital -
similar to the first operation but worse; this time, a full coccygectomy. I just saw my husband's head fall. Straight
away I worried about what this would mean for him, for my children, for all my
family and close friends that had rallied around the first time. I felt
devastated and guilty that I was putting them through it all over again.
We had naïvely booked a holiday
to Santorini, all the way back in January and we were due to go a month or so after the appointment - it was supposed
to be my recovery holiday, ironically and the trip was to be held over our wedding
anniversary. I made it clear that I had every intention to go ahead on the
trip, if my surgeon was happy for me to. Of course he was, the same guy that expected
me to go on my hen weekend only four days after major surgery! He said he had
contacts out in Greece should anything happen and that I was to enjoy my
holiday before another round of surgery - even recommending places and things
we should do whilst we were out there.
I made the dreaded phone calls to
my parents and close friends about my health - all of which were as devastated as I was and I
made the call to my bosses to deliver the news that I would once again need time
off for another round of surgery. They were, as ever, extremely understanding
and supportive and just wished me better. One of my bosses called me and said
that I was still part of the family, the amount of empathy made me feel
emotional and incredibly thankful, but I felt like I was affecting everyone
around me.
Around this time, lockdown was at
its best – or as best as it could be and I tried to arrange socially
distanced BBQs and quiet drinks with close friends as a last 'hurrah' before
going through it all over again – but my body was failing me – I was getting
more and more tired; a bit like when I didn’t realise I was pregnant until I
knew I was pregnant in Las Vegas four years before - now I knew I was very
unwell again, my body was slowing down and I was craving rest, sleep and quiet.
Santorini was everything we
wanted it to be – we steered away from conversations regarding my upcoming surgery
and focused on eating Greek salads, Feta cheese and drinking cocktails.
Unfortunately our ability to explore to the fullest was taken away due to my
exhaustion, but we had booked a beautiful room with a private pool, overlooking
the sea; along with a couples massage, private dinners and pre booked lunch at a
five star beach restaurant, to avoid crowds and queues with the knowledge that
my immune system was declining and so we needed to be even more cautious of the ongoing
global pandemic, despite the fact the numbers in Santorini were low. On the
last day we visited Oia and I treated my husband to a watch - because he's
my husband, it was our anniversary and he deserved it– I figured a pretty gift
was all he deserved after pulling the short straw with a sickly deteriorating
wife over the last year and staring up her bum for the majority of it- (and not in
a good way!) don’t be fooled – I also treated myself to a gorgeous aquamarine
diamond ring which also cost a penny or two – I wanted to look at it during my recovery
and remember that moment in Santorini to focus on how my life will be
again – I may be spending the next few months bedbound in pyjama's but I will do it with
a diamond or two on my hands damn it!
The surgery date came around
quickly – 5th October 2020 – nearly two weeks to the day after landing
safely back in the UK after quarantine. I spent those two weeks staying closed in,
working until the end, spending as much time with my boys as I could possibly
squeeze out and creating the illustrated story book for them. I had already by
this time been told the risks of yet another surgery and was worried that I wouldn’t
be coming home, that my children would be left without a mother and just my terrible drawings
as a memory – it was a terrifying time.
A couple of days before the
operation I was called into the hospital for various tests and preparation; I
had a Covid test, a MRSA test, blood tests and urine tests. I was marked up for
a colostomy bag should it be needed and I was given the many details of what
was to come my way. I was also sent home with bowel prep (three surgeries on –
it doesn’t get any easier to get down) and an injection full of blood thinner
that my inexperienced husband was to stab into my stomach the night before the
operation.
It took about five attempts to
stab that needle in – punctured with me announcing ‘Ok, I’m ready’ and then ‘no
no no no wait!’ each time. The injection was also incredibly painful (I later
found out throughout my stay in hospital that the injection is generally and
increasingly painful each time you have it, he didn’t just bodge it up) and I
spent from lunchtime onwards in my bathroom due to the effects of the bowel prep.
As I said, it doesn’t get any easier – It tastes like acid – not that I'm a
regular acid drinker – but what I would believe acid would taste like; metallic,
pungent and hard to keep down, but ‘lemon’ flavored. ‘OH!’ said my husband, ‘don’t
worry, it tastes of lemons’ – lemons my eye, I’d rather drink a vat of blended
lemons and chew a side of lemon peel compared to the TWO LITRES of what I had to
drink.
That night, with my bag packed
and zipped (including a lovely little care package from my mum of new cosy pyjama's, fluffy socks, chocolate and a photo of my boys) I
had nightmares and broken sleep. Nightmares of surgeries, being awake and cut
open, people grabbing me and wheeling me away – it was awful. I will say now
that those nightmares continued way after I arrived home from hospital, I had
dreams of nurses waking me up to take my blood pressure and stabbing me with
needles (which happened every night) – a sure sign of PTSD – It took me a long
time not to wake up between 12 – 3am without a panic attack.
The hours rolled by and soon we
were in the car driving to the hospital, knowing what to expect made it worse
and it was made even worse than that to know that my husband couldn’t come in
to the hospital to wait with me or see me off into theatre like he had the two
times before that. I felt alone, vulnerable and afraid. I hated the idea that I
had no support in the hospital room, no friendly face to wake up to, no one to
watch over me whilst I was unconscious in an unfamiliar setting and I felt ridiculous,
as a thirty year old woman, needing my hand held but I needed that security. I
had been through this already, it was unfair I was going through this again and
that my body was against me and during a global pandemic whereby I couldn’t have
the support I desperately needed.
We reached the hospital and my
husband gave me the biggest hug, I was escorted into the hospital by security
and taken to have my temperature read, as a Covid regulation, in order to access the hospital ward.
I’d only really just entered my hospital room when there was a knock at the door. Escorted my security, in walked my husband
with the most smug grin on his face – I didn’t care where, why, what or who he
had to sleep with in order to get there but the tension from my shoulders just
melted away. I had someone there to distract me during the minutes that were
going to tick by incredibly slowly otherwise.
Amongst my blood pressure, temperature, blood tests and questionnaire's, the nurse in charge came in to say that my husband had been allowed in by the member of staff in charge that had just returned from annual leave – the person in question wasn’t up tp date with the current rules of visitors in the ward and that my husband wasn’t in fact actually allowed in. She kindly said he would be allowed to stay until I was taken to theatre but that we would need to keep our voices down and he would be escorted out to avoid being seen by any other patient. As scary as it was, that he wouldn’t be here when I woke up, I was just grateful I wasn’t going to be alone at that moment and was appreciative of her kindness. I knew I had a long week ahead of me but at least I wasn't going into theatre alone.
I could have died of embarrassment.
Comments
Post a Comment