The Dark Days

As promised, I've gone through my notes and hereunder you will find my version of the days following my surgery.Some of the notes and thoughts I had at the time will stay with me , I don't want to be charged with sexual harassment !! but I will try to retain as true as I can to my recollections .
Waking up time - I don't know when I began to wake up, everything was very hazy, but my first thoughts were that I had woken up so I must have survived the op.I remember thinking that my brain is working ( theres always a first time for everything ) and my hearing is OK. I guessed that I was in the High Dependency Unit because that's where I had been told I would go but I had very little movement. I thought my head was in a brace because it would not move from side to side or backwards and forwards ( found out later it was because of the swelling ). I could see as far as my eyes could move which meant that I could see my toes on my left leg ( which I was expecting to be in plaster ) and could see the plaster on my right leg, I was very hot and sweating profusely, so much so that my eyes were filling with sweat which made them very sore and I couldn't move to wipe them. The HDU nurse allocated to me was very good and told me what was going on, where I had drains and tubes and what she could do to make me comfortable. Regrettably, I couldn't speak and , at that stage hadn't worked out the ability to write, so I was very uncomfortable having to close my eyes tight to squeeze out the sweat. There was one further concern which I suppose those of you with more experience of these things will realise was ridiculous, but , at the time !! . I knew that I would have a caffetta fitted, but had never seen one before. My brother Mick had had several during his many ops and always said it hurt like hell when they pulled them out. I was prostrate on the bed, legs akimbo and at the extremities of my vision, I could see the 'caffetta '. I could see that it came from my groin area and discharged into a large box thing on the floor. The pipe was a good 3 inches in diameter. Now I knew that despite my many boasts, this was going to hurt when it came out. This thought remained with me until Lynn arrived. We had pre-arranged signs for writing, yes and no, and I managed to get her to understand how hot I was. She had a word with my HDU nurse who checked all my readings and then slowly removed the heater hose which was blowing hot air into my groin area - that was a big relief in more ways than one.
It transpires that my heart had given some cause for concern during the op and it was agreed to put me on a 24 hour monitor- stickers on my leg and chest and wired up. I still had no movement except for my right hand and my left toe but there was nothing in my body or my head.I was aware of unsuccessful efforts to save an old chap with heart problems in the next bed. I had no idea how close he was to me, or even how close the beds were or if they were in a ward system or in rows, I just couldn't see beyond my feet or either side.
Whilst I lay there with drips in. drains out,oxygen being pumped into my traccy hole, I did wonder whether this was going to be worth it, whether I would recover at all or at least enough to lead half a life. I suppose the thing that kept me going was that it was financially considerably more worthwhile for me to retire than die in service, so at least if I kept going until 31st October, Lynn would be much better off.
As the night progressed, I developed gunge in my mouth which I tried to cough out. The only decent relief was the 2 hourly change of traccy pipe which I could see was always covered in blood when it was changed. I would probably last 20 minutes after the change before I started coughing again, but laid on my back,there was no getting away from it.
I doubt if I got any sleep during the night, but I had become stable enough to be moved to the ward. There was a 3 hour wait from the decision to take me up until someone came to fetch me, it seemed like an eternity.Then came the transfer to the ward bed. This is where I felt absolutely useless and very guilty, There were 4 very slightly built young nurses trying to move me from the HDU bed into the ward bed. I can certainly understand why nurses get bad backs. I couldn't help at all and they were trying to move 14 stone dead weight, complete with drips, drains and monitors.It took a while but when I found I had movement in my left leg I was able to screw myself across and up to the ward we went, me and a gorgeous sweet nurse called Danielle, who had had the misfortune to be allocated to me for the first couple of days - boy, was I lucky. She was everything a nurse should be, and more, she spent time with me, she made sure I was comfortable, she had a wicked sense of humour but she was very thorough and professional throughout..
Even though I couldn't move much , I could raise my thumb and occasionally write, when I could get folk to understand that was what I wanted to do, but my handwriting was not good because I couldn't see what I was writing, it was only when Simon came in to see me that he noticed that and arranged for a prop devise so I could see what I was writing, from there it got much easier, I could communicate and people could understand me.
My worst time was the night of the Arsenal game, I had been struggling throughout the day with a build up of phlegm in the traccy and as night fell it got worse. I wrote to Lynn to speak to the night staff before she left, which she did and they did call and see me more regularly. However, about an hour after the game, I started a coughing fit which got worse and worse. I couldn't get my breath and as much as I coughed, I couldn't get rid of the phlegm in my traccy. The night doctor replaced the traccy but it didn't help and he watched while I got more and more uncomfortable and I could feel myself snuffing it. All of a sudden, out of the corridor burst the night sister, a lovely, well built west indian lady, she burst into the room, ripped the traccy out pulled out the inner, barked at the doctor to get some saline and started to operate the suction machine. She spent a couple of hours effectively sucking out what she could and diluting the phlegm. Eventually, she pulled out a piece of solid waste which looked like chewing gum, that was what was blocking the windpipe. I'm convinced that without her intervention, I wouldn't be writing this. That night I felt really rough but I suppose that that was the spark which fired off the recovery. The previous nights events had been circulated around the ward and amongst the medical staff before breakfast and there became a more urgent need to get out of the Hospital. I decided to do everything I was told and seek hints to improve my chances of an early release.
It really is surprising how much extra help and advice you can get if you show a positive attitude to your circumstances and I genuinely believe that this helped me get out early. so there you are, those were the darkest days. It all gets brighter from there, but I will continue to blog for the foreseeable future, theres always more to come.
Bye for now.
Chris