Woke up on Saturday morning feeling a little sore. Wow, that sounds like the first line of a bad country and western song. It is not uncommon for surgery patients to feel really good the day after an operation and then have a flat time the next day. Of course, having bowel surgery interrupted and traumatised some pretty basic bodily functions and the registrar did say that it may take a few days for things to get “moving” again. Meanwhile, I was starting to feel like Mr Creosote (look him up, young people) and most of my pain was from rolling stomach cramps as my system tried to kick start itself.
I mentioned this to one of the nurses, and she decided that it was time to get things going—two days after my operation—and so she “prescribed” me a “mild” laxative. A couple of hours later, and things did in fact, start to move… but not on a good way.
You haven’t felt so let down by your own body as when you go to the toilet, do the business, then look down and see a bowl full of blood. (OK guys, I concede, when you can’t get it up counts as the worst) I started to panic, so the doctors ordered another blood test on top of the one I had every morning and I had some extra monitoring until things settled down. Unfortunately, things did not settle down until Sunday morning, by which time I was feeling more panicky, weak and very feeble. And even more tired.
Luckily no damage was done, although I learnt later that my blood tests did cause some concern among the medical staff.
The next three days pretty much consisted of obs, reading and eating and the occasional “turn” around the ward corridors, much like Miss Bennet and Miss Bingley in Pride and Prejudice. By Monday, I was able to go downstairs, grab a coffee at the cafe and sit in the sunshine. I have to say that The Alfred Hospital food was really delicious. I think the secret is not to go for the meat and three veg options which invariably get overcooked, and go for things like moussaka, lasagna, frittata and the like. That you get a choice of meals is an added bonus.
The nursing and support staff at The Alfred were generally wonderful. Their job is a thankless one and they have to do things as part of their jobs which are truly beyond the call of duty. Similar the surgical team was great, telling my clear what had happened and listening and answering my questions in terms even I could understand.
I was released on Tuesday and my best friend, Ailsa came to bring me home. She is great and does and says everything a best friend should do. We collected my cat, Marge, from her holiday at the local cattery and I was relieved to hear that she was very well behaved and they loved having her. She was less happy to see me and I knew the next few days at home would be, how we say… challenging.
At this point, my instructions were to stay home, rest, don’t life anything too heavy, and basically let my body recover from what, they keep reminding me, and I keep forgetting, was major surgery. I was relatively pain free and was advised that I should continue with, you guessed it, paracetemol to deal with postoperative pain.
In the greater scheme of things, it was kind of fortunate that I did not currently have a job as I would have felt it necessary to go back to work probably too soon. Of course, I still did not know just what that mysterious mass was. The histopathology would take up tot two week and I was booked in to see the surgeon then. So commenced the waiting.
To be continued.
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