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).
The opp is tomorrow I’m staying tin a travel lodge tonight. The wards look comfy (thanks to 13 years of labour tule methinks) and the nurses seem nice. The room i’m staying in tonight however smells of cheap perfume and doesn’t have enough pillows or tea. It’s also cold. I had to have a canular put in so they can pump me full of drugs tomorrow and its really annoying. Oh yea, and I am really tired.
cant sleep. worried. tired.
I cannot believe that tomorrow I will finally be going into hospital. Today I had to remove my files ext. form my school bag and put my pyjamas into it. There was something incredibly final about all that. Yesterday was my last day in school, I felt incredibly loved, having been given 3 cards, two boxes of maltesers, a chocolate plaque, and a pair of pyjamas by varios classmates (the last item a gift from my entire form.) I’m scared of corse, but I am incredibly glad that this is nearly over.
Today I had a phone consultation with my wonderful spinal surgeon Mr Vermah (probably completely F’d the spelling on that name ). He thinks that he only needs to fuse the top of my spine and the rest of it will follow. I will take his word for it since he is the expert but I am worried that it will not have the result I want. I realy really really want an even waistAs the date of my operation draws closer I worry about it more and more and I just want it to be over.
Thanks to my mothers wide ranging friendship circle i have a vast collection of religious people who will be praying for me whilst I am on the operating table. Despite being an atheist I am hugely greatful to all these people. The fact that anyone would take time out of their day to care about me is fantastically heartwarming. The fact that I matter to so many people is definitely helping me through this time.
It is possible that my mum suffers more from my scoliosis than I do. Todays he spent hours taking me to Ikea getting me a double bed for after my opp. She has been emotionally put through turmoil watching me go though the stuggles of scoliosis, gotten up in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep in a back brace (F.Y.I waste of time) and spent too much money and time making me more comfortable. I know I could never get through this without her-despite the fact that she often gets the brunt of my stress.
As for my siblings. I have recently become “the situation at home” in the form of letters to thier varios schools. The ten-year-old has managed to convince himself that he too has scoliosis, the seven year old has burst into tears wondering who who will look after her whilst my parents are up in MAnchester with me and the fourteen year old being forced to do school runs whilst I am in hospital. its difficult not to feel like the source of all angst in the family – and its about to get worse. Oh dear.