Patiently Waiting

So, continuing…

I came round from my anasthetic at about 12.30 on the Tuesday to the realisation that I couldn’t feel my arm, nor could I move it. Mild panic, of course, kicked in and I started to thrash about, very disorientated, trying to get the oxygen mask off my face. Apparently they’d injected Leftie with local anaesthetic so therefore Leftie was going to be a useless appendage for a few hours. It actually came to be amusing when I flopped upon the reality of it all. I was also luxuriously painfree for my first few hours of alertness.

It was in an attempt to look at my arm that Leftie fell of the bed and Rightie had to pick it up by the wrist to retrieve it. It was bizarre and somehow, forgetting its uselessness, when being asked to slide over to the transfer bed, I tried to use Leftie again and almost fell off the bed.

Me and the arms got back to the ward eventually, beautifully drowsy but unable to sleep. I made it to visiting time (2-4pm) and got a visit from my parents. I didn’t cover up Rightie, my other scarred arm. This was the first time they’ve seen and apart from a few peering looks, we seemed to get over that hurdle I’d built up over the years. I decided I didn’t care anymore. It’s been a relief. How else could I get my mum to fasten my bra for me!? Anywhoo, they’ve seen and they’re just pleased that I felt able to, as am I, but mainly for the reason that this heatwave seemed to take a pew in our ward. At first we were allowed the windpows open to minimal benefit (but benefit nonetheless!) but yesterday they closed them as management had said that the air con wouldn’t work if they were open. Maybe their offices cooled, but we certainly didn’t.

By the time my parents arrived I was sytarting to get in pain and, as the doctors had advised, I asked for pain relief before it got too bad. I waited for an hour for paracetamol and codiene. Let me take a moment to scream PARACETAMOL! I’ve never been one for responding to this drug, which my parents tried to explain. Also this combination is the equivilant of tylex which I take for headaches (when stolen from my dad), I wasn’t about to believe that surgery could be treated with this combo and it certainly wasn’t. Eventually they added diclofenac which helped a little. With both my other surgeries (tonsils and toes) I was exactly the same with pain andwas given morphine on both occasions. This is what I needed.

While my parents were with me I got my mum to help me get dressed – I was still in my huge hospital gown – so here’s me watching neighbours once they’d left with my poor Leftie;

You can see where they operated, the port where they’re going to fill it is near my elbow and my upper arm is swollen. Sore, it is.

I spent the first night with my buzzer asking for pain relief. Each time anyone on the ward buzzed (you could hear the buzzer until they were turned off at your bed) there was a waiting time of about an hour and I’m serious. When my mum and sister visited on the second day, the old dear, who was opposite me in my bay, was stuck in the toilet for an hour by which time she attempted to get back to bed and was told to go back and wait. Don’t ge me wrong, different shifts had different nurses and different standards of care. Some nurses were amazing and some were dragon ladies.

On the second day one of the nice nurses came and asked me if I should have my arm elevated. She went to investigate and apparently it should’ve been from the start, oops on their part. Here’s me with my sling in the loo;

And my bagged up self when I insisted that they let me get in the flaming shower;

And again I’m taking another time out for a rest.