I came round from my operation in a complete daze. Apparently the first thing I said was “how is he labour party conference going” then I went on some sort of political rant about how much I love the NHS and how I was angry that the Tories (for those reading abroad- stupid, out of touch conservative politicians, who at this point in time are somehow in power) where planning to destroy it.
I spent the first 3 days in HDU. The land of things that beep. I struggle to understand how the adults who sat by my bed slept at all I’m not entirely sure what went on then as it is essentially a blur of not wanting to eat, being sick when I tried to sit out on bed, pain and becoming infatuated with one of the nurses. The blurring effect was mainly due to the cocktail of dugs I was being given through tubes in my hand, which included morphine and hose tranquilliser I do remember some of the people who visited me my siblings, who brought me a box of chocolates and a giant penguin (which I have named morphy) and a huge box of chocolates (which, despite being severely depleted now I had no desire to eat at the time). I was also visited by my wonderful ‘spine sister’ Vicki, who brought me a beautiful card and a cuddly Dalmatian which I named “ketty” Children’s hospital culture was rife- if you stick rods in someone’s back they aren’t in “discomfort” nor are they “sore” they are in pain.
I was then moved into ward 78. It’s a lot quieter there. I was quickly weaned off morphine and given Kodamol and Paracetamol instead the tubes in my arms and leg disappeared (weird fact: taking tubes out of your hand doesn’t hurt at all). After the morphine was gone I didn’t toss my cookies again and my apatite has been slowly returning, although I didn’t eat anything accept fruit and crackers till Friday.
The whole time I was in hospital I was stunned senseless by the nurse’s wok ethic. Their shifts lasted from either 07:30 in the morning till 8:00 in the evening (or visa versa), and many of them worked overtime. The ones in the High Dependency Unit didn’t even take breaks. The whole time they where polite, attentive and quick to respond to anything that beeped. How the hell do these people stay alive?
Bit of an ordeal to get home but that warrants its own blog post. Sorry I didn’t update until now, a day-by-day of life in hospital would have been better but I wasn’t even well enough to watch telly till Thursday (my Dad had to read the Guardian to me).