Adhesive Plaster 1- 0 Thigh Hair

Day One:

I had everything packed but I was stalling for time the morning of the surgery. My mum and brother had arrived to help me with my things but I said I hadn't finished packing. Must remember teabags. Must do the washing up. Must remember to hang the laundry. Stall for time. My partner couldn't leave work early to come see me before I left. He did try. Had to wait for email confirmation before he could leave the office. Before lunchtime, no chance, everyone else on the other end washing their noses in salad boxes. He was stuck waiting. I was stalling. It'll be okay. I am coming back in a few days. Right?

There is always a feeling of uncertainty when you go for an operation. But I wasn't worried about the risk of not being here anymore, I was more concerned about trying to console everyone else. Anyway, if something did happen they all knew Dr Ignorance's number and a horde would descend upon him if he fucked up.

I was late getting to the hospital for my 12:30 check in. But I wasn't bothered because theatre didn't start until 2pm and I had been told the week before a lady was due in before me, as her surgery would take less time and I was a special case. When I arrived, I was called in first to take my details. My mother wasn't allowed to come with me or wait in the reception area. I thought this was very strange. The nurse there informed me I was due in surgery first today and since I was late everything had to be hurried along. So I said my goodbyes to my mum and rang my Partner to tell him what was going on. So hurried and it felt wrong being rushed like that.

I was taken to a 'pod' which was basically a cubicle with a chair, a set of draws and a table in it. I was asked to disrobe and put a gown on. Seemed odd again. Told her my info and asked if I would be having a consultation and to sign a consent form. She was quite rude and said all that will be done after I got dressed. Seems a bit backward if you ask me. What if I changed my mind or something came up in my medical history that meant it wasn't possible to operate on me at the time? She left me to it. Didn't answer any of my questions. Talk about making you feel sure and confident.

A different health care assistant came in called Lisa. She was lovely and did answer all my questions and made me feel at ease. She went through all my file with me, typical hospital bureaucracy. It came to my allergies. No latex for me thanks. Oh this may cause a problem since the theatre is already prepared. I glance down and on the front of my file is a post-it note from the pre-assessment nurse last week saying I have a latex allergy and can the theatre be prepared accordingly. Hmm someone missed that bright pink note on the front of my file then? Lisa went away to inform someone. Came back 10 mins later.

"They're going to send the other lady in first since they need to change the room for you"

"Well yeah, I was already told I would be second in line today at my pre-op, for that very reason"

They had me waiting for about 2 hours. Urgh that bloody dragged. I could have been out in the waiting area with my mum and partner, who had finished work by then. So I called him instead. Had the olde 'typical NHS' banter conversation. They even left my file on the table. So I had a neb.

They had my old GP information from 7 years ago as the current one. Yet, had been sending results and reports to my new GP practice. No wonder stuff gets lost. They did have, however, a note from the last time I was in hospital, my allergic reaction to latex. Le sigh. What's the point of inundating medical professionals with record keeping if they can't be arsed to read them when it matters? Howweh man.

Next I met the anaesthetist. A small Indian gentleman, very pleasant. Had a bit of a heavy accent, but that wasn't the problem. He talked waaaay too fast. I only caught a few words. Started to get nervous again when he said the anaesthetic would only last as long as the surgery, about half an hour. Erm? What? Hip Arthroscopy takes about 2 hours plus they have to repair a possible labral tear. Have they got me confused with the first patient again? Ffs.

Then, in comes my favourite person, Dr Ignorance, who is sometimes Dr Complacent. But NOT TODAY! Dr Gameface, went over the consent form I couldn't help but mention making sure its all filled out properly. I still blame him for the MRI arthrogram incident. He didn't fill the form out properly so I never got the anaesthetic I was promised. Thus felt the needle being jabbed into my hip joint. Not. A. Happy. Bunny. He still hasn't said sorry nor thinks it was his fault. So this was my chance to let him know, I still blame him. I'm confident the form is in order and he leaves.

Lisa comes back in to keep me company. Presents me with a rather glamorous stocking. I tell her I'm not a fan of Dr Gameface. She laughs and asks me why I'm going through with this with him?

" I don't have to like him, as long as he does his job properly, I don't have to like him at all. If he fucks up a second time, they'll be hell to pay. " From her reaction he was probably still just in ear shot. I don't care. He clearly doesn't care about me as a person, I'm just another number. Hopefully a number in the 'success' column nonetheless.

My memory is a bit shoddy when they take me into the anaesthetic room. I do recall being very agitated at the anaesthesia nurse guy sticking things on me and talking while Chatty Anaesthetist is trying to ask me questions, and I can't understand a word he's saying. He jabs me with a large needle. That's the line in. Then injects me with, I'm assuming the sleeping drugs. They never tell you what they're injecting you with.

Useless buggers.

"Here we go" Zzzz

.

.

.

Laughing. Why is everyone laughing? There's some banter going on in the Recovery Room. There's a lady beside me, letting me know where I am. That it's all over.

Must have passed out. When did my Dad get here? I'm in a different room. My Beardy Warrior (my partner lol) is here too! It's so good to see them. Lots of words were passed over my head, about me but not to me. I was sooo damn tired. And thirsty. What the hell have they done to my throat? See you tomorrows and kisses. I would cry if I physically could. Keep pumping in fluids but no luck. Need sleeeep.

That's how broken up my experience of afterwards was. Couldn't tell you want the recovery banter was, but I was laughing too. The nurses kept coming to check my blood pressure and then told me to rest. Totally couldn't. They gave me Tramadol, which keeps me awake. Told them this too but they wouldn't take my word for it. Had to take it.

I was expecting to be in much more pain than I was. During surgery apparently they gave me seven shots of morphine. Nee wonder I was feeling sick. I react badly to that too. Couldn't keep water down, but couldn't produce saliva to eat or be sick properly. Needle in my hand killed. They had me in my own room but they didn't close the door, so I heard everything. I was the youngest person on the ward amongst the golden oldies getting their hip replacements, knee surgeries etc. TV's were loud, some poor lady was being sick all the time, and the woman opposite me, was hallucinating. Singing in her sleep. The acoustics of the hall and our open doors meant when she started snoring: it was like she was in the bed next to me :'(.

No Sleep. Make Kee a dull girl.

Well an extremely tired girl. Not having any sleep seems to amplify your pains. Urgh. Every time I felt those zzzz catching up a buzzer would go off or I would need to pee. All those fluids from earlier had to come out sometime :( kept asking for my dressing to be changed too but apparently it was fine...

Cheeky

One good thing about the silence and nurses assuming that I was asleep or assuming I knew more than I did. I found out I was due to be discharged the next day once the doctor and physio had been round to see me. I knew I had to get my muscles moving if they expect me to support myself. I had already researched what physio I would get after surgery. So I wriggled, arched and flexed just to loosen up and start the process.

It was about 4am when I gave up fighting the tramadol and just read a book my friend gave me. 'My sisters' keeper' not sure if it was the best thing to take into hospital with me but it was a pleasant distraction.

Day Two:

7:20am. Morning wake up call. Whole place stirs, night shift handover to morning shift. More blood pressure taken. My dressings finally changed.

Then about 9:30...

" Good morning, can you tell me your name and date of birth please?"

"Hello, who are you?"

This guy looks at me like how dare I have the audacity to ask him, his name! Of course it's the doctor but it's not Dr Ignorance or Gameface. This guy is Dr Incredulous. Informs me about the surgery I was in for, this I obviously know, why else would I have agreed to it? He doesn't really tell me what they found or if they repaired anything. Just that they removed the bump. I'm to be assessed by the physio and sent home once they are satisfied. Excellent.

It wasn't long after that I was given a nice pair of crutches to become my extra limbs for a good few weeks.

I have to say being back home is a godsend. I missed my sprung memory foam mattress. And Sleep. Couldn't sleep straight away though. I had both sets of parents arriving at different times to see me. Ingo (my partner) has been wonderful since I got home. Taking very good care of me. He even brought the bed downstairs, a necessary luxury for recuperation don't you think? Our house bunny seemed to think so...

Captain Kismet

I'm on to day 7 now and I haven't been in any pain apart from a slight strain in my lower back, but we all knew that wouldn't magically go away. Only time will tell if this has been a success. I haven't received an appointment for this intensive physio I was supposed to have nor any kind of check up since I was discharged from hospital. Cut and shut jobby?

Now this is all done with I can concentrate on my articles, stories and reviews I wish to share with you.

Take care.