This all started late in 2009 when I was telling my doctor about my constant bouts of diarrhea and abdominal pain. We monitored things for a little while and early in 2010 he had me do a Fecal Occult Blood Test, which for the lay person means, “Is there any unseen blood in your poo?”
The test returned a positive result so the next step was to book in for a colonoscopy. I had this on 16 March 2010, incidentally a week after I was retrenched from my job. The colonoscopy found a mass in my colon which the doctors could not identify so I was booked in for a CT Scan that Friday. Both these tests require you to be empty inside, so with a combination of fasting and vile medications, I had only four full meals between Monday and Friday lunchtime.
Two weeks later I was at The Alfred Hospital talking to a colorectal surgeon who said that I had a large “mass” located in or near my appendix which required an operation called a right hemicolectomy, which means they remove the right ‘ascending” part of my colon and then join my small intestine and colon back together. Simple really, like plumbing… or leatherwork.
I was designated a Level 1 patient which means that I should have my operation within a month. I ended up going into hospital on 22 April 2010.
The day of the operation I got to the hospital in good time, did all the required bureaucratic things and was wheeled into pre-op. After a little while looking at the ceiling and trying to remember if this is what being in the hospital nursery was like when I was born, at 2.00 p.m. I was wheeled into the operating theatre. This is where the fun started. I am “blessed” with weak veins. Trying to find a viable vein for a needle to enter and do its work is a struggle. They tried four times on two arms for my CT scan and it took three goes to get a line in so that I could get anaesthetic for my operation. The next few hours were a blur, thankfully.
I woke at a little before 8.00 p.m. The surgical registrar has a very brief chat and told me that what was supposed to be a two-hour operation ended up being a little short of six as the mass was quite large and had perforated the wall of my small and large bowels which made things a little more complicated. The result though, was that the operation was successful and I went to the ward for recovery.
Take it from me, people, hospital is not a place to go to have a rest. This is why they want you home as soon as possible. The first night was a blur of morphine, hourly “obs” (when they come and take your blood pressure, and other signs of life) and a cute nurse I would have flirted with if I hadn’t been catheterised (ask your mother). Surprisingly, post-operative pain was fairly subdued, and I didn’t use the morphine (I had a little button I could press for a bump) nearly as much as the nurses though I should. The tactic is the get ahead of the pain, instead of treating it as it appears, so I was on regular pain medication. Surprisingly, the favourite pain medication is paracetemol, morning, noon and night, with something else to provide a little kick.
Even after a night of little sleep, Friday was quite active. I actually had something to eat for breakfast. At my pre-operation consultation, I was put on a protocol which involved giving surgical patients additional high-carbohydrate energy drinks to see if they assisted in post-operative recovery. This continued after my operation and I had a choice of rather artificial-tasting drinks which I was supposed to drink twice a day with my meals.
Hospitals are also concerned that patients don’t contract pneumonia and deep vein thrombosis. I had to do regular deep breathing and coughing to clear my lungs and every patient gets to wear special compression stockings to help prevent DVT. They also said that I had to get out of bed so my circulation did not get sluggish in areas where it shouldn’t. So on Friday, I was temporarily unhooked from the various drips and lines and catheters, stood up and took a few steps. I then quickly lay down again.
Other than eating and having your blood pressure and temperature taken, there was not a lot more to do while in hospital. I had brought some books to while away the 5 or so days I would be in hospital. I had considered some of the more literary books that I had bough and had not yet read, like The Lovely Bones and The Corrections but I decided that my brain would probably not be up for metaphors of death and the complications of a dysfunctional family. So I brought along some Patricia Cornwell Kay Scarpetta crime thrillers. These are the books I read during my stay:
- Cause of Death
- Unnatural Exposure
- Black Notice
- The Last Precinct
- Blow Fly
- Predator
At the first autopsy scene I realised that these may not be the most appropriate books for a recovery from surgery, but it was them or 1998 editions of New Idea so I persevered.
Friday afternoon and I was sitting up in a chair reading. My morphine was taken away (sniff!) and I was put on oxycontin. The afternoon dose was fine, but the night dose cause me all sorts of problems. Every time I closed my eyes I started hallucinating. I would see things crawling out of the ceiling, strange monsters at the margins of a jungle, all the usual—or unusual—terrors. So I lay there, terribly tired from no sleep the previous night, but terrified to close my eyes. I should have called the nurse but as usual, I did not want to be a bother. Luckily, eventually sheer exhaustion took hold so when I closed my eyes, I went straight to sleep.
To be continued…
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