Round Two!

 

I remember more this time.  I had my premeds after washing and preparing for surgery.  I went to sleep but they were later taking me down so I was a little more awake and with it. 

Waiting to go into theatre with the anaesthetists I laughed and joked with them.  They asked if I remembered the previous weeks’ conversation – no??  The enlightened me and I was mortified, I clearly like to talk!!!  Relief came when they put me under, best I don’t hear the rest!

The op was over.  It took about eight hours this time and I came out with a new chest drain and more wires.  I had a candula in the hand to administer morphine straight from a drip which I was glad about.  The hospital had rung Mark when I was through surgery and I awoke to find him looking down at me worried. I almost panicked; he seemed very distant, not his usual self but he smiled at me as I drifted in and out of consciousness.  I was glad he was there.  He later told me he was worried, scared knowing the implications of the second surgery were far worse and to know I had come round was sheer relief. 

When I eventually found myself back on N1 ward, I felt comfortable and reassured if that’s the right thing?  Wired to three monitors and with another epidural for pain relief, I was again confined to the bed with nothing but sleep.  I was incredibly thirsty and was allowed water; gradually as the evening wore on I was allowed a coffee and some toast.  Boy was I hungry! Toast had never tasted so good and although it was a little difficult to swallow food due to the fact I'd had  tubes down my throat for the best part of the day, it was worth the discomfort! 

The day after the surgery, mum and dad came to visit.  I wanted them to come over, I had an incredible need to see my parents, almost child like need in reassurance that everything would be ok; I didn’t want to be a grown up anymore with the worry and responsibility I wanted security of life when I was a child.  I was so pleased to see them.  I don’t think in any of the time when they came over I cried in front of them, I wanted them to see me as strong enough to get through all of this.   I never felt that I had done anything worthwhile in life to make them proud (after all, two marriages down didn’t constitute a success in anyone’s eyes!)  I always have felt like a failure as I didn’t pursue a career like my brother did, and I made myself a single parent, having to rely on their help and financial input ( to which I ALWAYS paid then back).  I didn’t want this episode to be a sign of weakness in any way.

In all of this time, people close to me and friends must have been worried immensely.  People always ask about the patient and rarely think about the carers of the family and what they have to go through.

 

Mark was my rock who contacted everyone after the operations and visits to give them an update, he even updated Facebook, even though he wasn’t sure about it!  People always ask about the person who is ill, but what about those who are also going through it, albeit not physically, mentally it is a worrying, scary time for family and I am glad I had such good friends and family for that support. 

Not the best look!