the one thing that i remember most from this surgery as opposed to my last one, is that just the standard of care seems so much better… i dont know if thats just cos i was so much more stressed and sick last time, or out of it most of the time anyway that i didnt notice the nurses – but here the care just seems better – its nice to feel looked after, especially by people youve never met before.
I went to visit my cousin in hospital a few weeks ago when we were in the area, and the hospital there was horrific!! We were there for 20mins, and the phone rang off hte hook, there were patients buzzing, and there were NO staff – NO nurses, no reception, no doctors that i could see – we walked in and out 4 times and i did not see ONE staff member belonging to that oncology ward. My previous surgery was not like that, and this certainly wasnt either, because I was completely horrified at that scene.
Its amazing how good food tastes, even hospital food, including the vegetables a’la cooked-so-much-they-have-no-nutrients, when youve not eaten for over 12hours, forced. You of course know that its the very reason that youve been TOLD not to eat that makes you so aware of your hunger – but thats of little consolation when youre starving.
So I got to eat.. and it was good.
The rest of the day was spent resting, no tv cos i couldnt be bothered turning it on, and I think i instinctively knew it would keep me awake and distracted from healing sleep. Dad came back to say hi, and then when he went out to chat to mum and I awoke just as he leant over to kiss me goodbye… I woke occasionally as the nurses came to check my blood pressure and stats… I did not need nausea medication, but hte new staff nurse left the canular in just in case because in her words “knowing my luck i will take it out and you will vomit everywhere”…
They kept asking me if I was experiencing pain and on a scale of 1-10, what it was.. they never once asked what my reference for a 10 was, so I made sure I told them – “compared to a bone marrow test, with no sedative, this is about 3!” I have a high tolerance for pain – or maybe that should read that I have a high experience of pain… and whilst I understand this is there way of trying to test a patients comfort level, and a level 8 for anyone is bad whether that be compared to a bee sting or giving birth as someone’s high level of experienced pain, its still a practise that needs some further definition.
I slept, visualising all the healing energies from friends and loved ones around me, and it truly helped – even if I was hallucinating or imagining it, I personally see nothing wrong with knowing and feeling that you are loved.
Because it was the Christmas period, there were people in that ward, who normally would not be sent to that ward – so there were some interesting exchanges we heard from my room – I wont go into them, but two of hte funniest were listening to the dude next door arguing that he wanted to go home and when the nurses refused, he only wanted to go outside – and that was fine with the nurses so long as he was back by 8.30pm otherwise they would call security to go find him – there went HIS idea of sneaking off home!!
The other one I only heard, but apparently it was accompanied by a bare black bottom flashing across the shared room across the hall – a lady calling out “jack”? But it sounds fairly like “fuuuuck”? A bit sad I know, but in my muddled brain it was hilarious!
By about 4.30/5pm we decided to let me have dinner in hospital and then we would go home… dinner came and went, and the resident doctor was called to come and check me and give me some meds to take home just in case… I think around this time my blood pressure, which is normally quite low dropped to something like 85/90? or something? I will ask Nic, cos Im sure he would remember – the nurse was NOT a happy camper about that and my prospects about going home.. but I drank more, assured her it was ok and by about 8pm the resident finally rocked up and I was given a script for anti-nausea pills (same as my break through tablets last chemo round) – and the canula was taken out and I was finally allowed home at about 9pm, or 10pm?… yay!!!
Made it downstairs, and to the car, despite my mothers attempts to make me sit down and wait for my husband to get the car and to pick me up (not even 500m away)… Its all about being able to do stuff for myself whilst I feel up to it
One thing Ive learnt, and I have to keep reminding myself, is that its ok to ask for help – I get that, I really do (family, stop rolling your disbelieving eyes right now!)… BUT I know when to ask for help. I know when I need it and I know that for my own sanity, I NEED to be able to do things for myself – even if that is walking down those steps, or picking up that box, whilst I feel able. Because I was raised to be self-sufficient and able to do things for myself, and Im proud of that. I am not about to sit about and expect others to do everything for me because thats not who I am.
Yes I am proud and stubborn and pig headed sometimes – but I am determined to get through this with as much self-dignity as possible, so please just make it a bit easier for me by understanding why I get frustrated when you insist on helping. I appreciate help, I just dont appreciate being treated like I am incapable of conscious and reasonable thoughts and decisions and actions.
This is still my life, and this is how I choose to live it.
