Hospitalised

I took a notebook and pen into hospital with me. I needed to have an operation. I was 59. 

Thursday. . . . Nearly time for my operation. I am sitting in the ward next to my bed waiting for my turn to go to theatre. Someone, a woman, has just been in to monitor my heart rate. She stuck some patches on my legs and chest, attached some wires, listened on her machine for a minute, then took them off. I said, 'does it seem normal?' She said, 'not allowed to say, I'm just a service'. She was very quick, no pleasantries. 

Irene gave me a lift here. She picked me up at 7.30am, we came straight to the hospital. Ward 28. She waited till I got changed into my gown, then left. Then some more people came to see me, ask questions, and fill out a lot of paperwork. They tell me their names, but I immediately forget them. I am not very good at remembering names. 

Then a familiar face arrived, the consultant who I have seen twice before. I still cannot remember his name. He is very nice, quite funny, I like funny people. He is going to do my operation and he explained what is going to happen. I have a large cyst on my right ovary. When they put me under he is going to examine it and decide whether to cut me horizontally or vertically. He says probably vertically. He wants to get it out in one piece without damaging it, so he needs a large opening that won't restrict access. Also, when he gets in there he can have a look around. He says it is most certainly benign. Then he will remove my ovaries, fallopian tubes, and womb. 

There is another lady on this ward with me, six beds but only the two of us. We had a quick chat, now she has gone to surgery. Her operation is more minor than mine, and they are doing hers from the inside. She is the first to go, then there is someone else, then it is my turn. I wish I was first, the waiting is the hardest part.

Something really odd happened earlier on while we were settling ourselves in. I was talking to Irene, just general chat. I mentioned that I had tried to do a number 2 but only managed a bit. Then we talked about enemas and colonic irrigations, she used to be a nurse, and how they put it on the telly now. There was an electrician in the room and he must have been listening. He came over to us and said he heard us mention colonic irrigation. He said his girl friend does it for a job. He was a young chap. He showed me a card with his girlfriends details on it. She works at a shop in Brigg. We were amazed that he was so cheeky touting for business for his girlfriend. I just made light of it all. At first I thought it was just a joke, but he was serious. I wonder if he had done that before. Why would he carry his girlfriends card around with him?

The woman in the bed opposite has been gone half an hour now, I wonder how she is getting on. I see there are some brand new magazines on the ward, I wonder if they change them regularly so as not to bring germs in. 

Later. . . . . Well I'm back. I got whisked off to theatre. They put loads of tubes into you then the room starts spinning and you drift off to sleep. It feels like you are becoming more drunk. They keep talking to you while you are going under, asking you things to encourage you to talk. Then they put a mask on you, say it's oxygen, and keep asking you questions. You try and talk back but it's hopeless so you give up and go to sleep. The next minute you are awake again and being put back into bed. 

Friday. . . . . .I have slept a lot today, still very tired. The lady opposite said I can sleep for England. I suppose I am making up for all the nights when I am on the computer till after midnight, then getting up at 6am. I might as well make the most of it now I am in hospital. The nice young nurse got me out of bed and sitting on the chair.She fetched me a bowl of water so I could have a wash. That was quite difficult to do with one useable hand. I did as much as I could reach. Then I brushed my teeth. Heaven. My mouth tasted terrible, it has been so dry since the op, with gungy stuff around my lips. Guess what? I can't cough to clear my throat because it hurts my stomach. I daren't do any jerky movements, no laughing, no sneezing, and I have terrible wind. 

I am attached to a pain killer tube. I have to press a button to get a dose. I also have a catheter to take away my urine. That is strange, not going to the toilet. I have just discovered it is painful to burp, which is a nuisance because I need to.

I had a nice surprise, my friend David came to see me. He said he might come but I thought it was going to be a Saturday visit. We had a good chat, he is a good friend. He said he wants to go and see a Tina Turner concert in March in London. I said I would love to go with him.

I was tired after David left at 20.15 so I lay back on my bed and fell asleep. The ward went quiet. I wanted to lay my pillows flat so I could go to sleep for the night but I couldn't reach the metal backrest. I wanted a new sick bowl because I thought I might be sick, but there was no one around to help. The lady in the next bed to me was in pain and she didn't have a nurse alert button, so I pressed mine. Eventually someone came but she was in a flap. Apparently they were very busy with someone who was very poorly. Then a doctor came in briefly. I eventually laid down about 22.30pm. 

Not a very good night. I woke at 3.30am feeling sick. So I pressed the nurse alert button. I don't know how far she had to come but she took a while. She said she would get me an anti sickness tablet, and take my catheter out. 45 minutes later she came back and gave me the tablet, but didn't do the catheter. Then I woke up at 5.30am and was sick again. She didn't seem to know what to do. She took my catheter out and I got a bit more sleep. 

Then breakfast came round. I said I had been sick and didn't know whether to have any or not. The nurse said it is entirely up to you. I decided to just have a coffee which was thick and black. I could only drink half of it. I think I had better become a bit more mobile today, because it looks as if I have to do everything for myself. My friendly nurse who helped me wash yesterday is having a day off today. She deserves it after working ten days on the trot. 

I went to the toilet to have a wash, and my first pee. I can walk about but slowly. I went to the day room to use my mobile phone. The waitress came and told me lunch was being served. I shuffled straight back to my bed. I needn't have bothered, it was awful. Baked potato, no butter. Cauliflower cheese and brussels sprouts. I couldn't tell the difference between them. They didn't taste of anything. More tablets to take. I felt a bit tired and laid on the bed to rest while I wait for Anna and Bryn to arrive. They came about 2.40pm. They like the caravan park where they are staying. They left at 4pm. I laid on the bed and went to sleep. Everybody in the ward was quite. One young woman had gone home. I'm not sure what the others are in for. 

Teatime came. Mushroom soup was horrible, beans on toast ok. Then ice cream which I saved for later. I can't find any magazines to read. I had a little walk to the day room and read The Scunthorpe Telegraph. I got into bed early and dreamt all night, but kept waking up. 

Sunday, I am hoping to go home today. Had breakfast, Bran Flakes, read some magazines. The doctor came round and said it would be better if I stayed in another night, because I hadn't done a number 2 yet, and also there is blood in my urine. She said that was normal because they had taken my cervix out, there was bound to be a bit of bleeding. I rang Anna to tell her I wouldn't be out today. She said they will come for the night visiting. 

I managed to get a bath and wash my hair. I got the nurse to take the drip out of the vein in my hand. It was causing me discomfort. I wasn't able to fully immerse myself into the water because of the dressing on my wound, but I managed a pretty good wash. I put my tight stockings on again. They are horrible but I have to wear them.

Monday morning. . . . Anna and Bryn came last night. They like the caravan park they are on. Very quiet, nice village. Guess what, success, I did a number 2 this morning at 7am. I had a restless night, went to the toilet three times for a pee. Maybe that was because I drank some fruit juice before I went to bed. I kept dreaming, more like trucking nightmares. Awful. Not finding loads, getting lost, losing lorries, looking for delivery points. 

I was glad when morning came. Toast and coffee for breakfast. Paracetamol and another tablet, they dish them out like smarties here. I feel bloated but that's because the food is not right for me. I am used to plenty of fresh veg and some fruit. Can't wait to get my own food at home again. The pains I have had with wind are nearly all gone, but I feel bunged up. I must try and go to the toilet again. Success, I have been twice more. Now 11.30am. Waiting for the doctor to come and see me. I should be able to go home today. I've read all the magazines, now all there is to do is wait. 

I got half an hour of free telly this morning. I was listening to Radio 4 on the patient line gadget, and it changed to Channel 3 television by itself. It was the morning magazine programme. Then it disappeared after half an hour. A notice came onto the screen to buy a card if I want to carry on watching. Very crafty I thought. Give you a sample then ask you to pay. It's gone quite. Most of us are in our chairs, sitting looking at each other. I wonder if this is what it's like in an old folks home. I would walk out. I can't imagine what life would be like without my mobility and my faculties. I suppose one day I might find out. 

I was discharged and went home. My sister came to help me around the house for a few days. I was 59 and five months when I had this operation. One of only three hospital stays in my lifetime. I had a letter several weeks after the operation. They had found no signs of cancer in what they took out. 

I wanted to go back to work after 12 weeks off, but my company was closing the depot and there was no work for me. Getting to 60 was a relief. Now I can live my life on my terms. 

Have a good weekend. Live your life, on your terms. Best wishes.   ilona